#these specific moments were very sexy of him

[catabasis]

Crowley in 1941

[saintobio]

the perfect boyfriend, feat. l&ds xavier.

pairings. xavier, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. petnames (bunny), jealousy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slight dom/sub play, same timeline!xavier notes. he’s still my l&ds main until july 15th just kidding :’D i love xav sm he’s literally so bf material to me

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who had a hard time expressing his feelings the first time he met you. he used to be a man of a few words—or, as you liked to put it, a very nonchalant guy. it’s not that he’s disinterested. in fact, every small interaction he’d had with you lingered on his mind all night. you’re all he can think about until he finally had the courage to confess to you one day, after saving you from a bunch of wanderers, and thinking he’d almost lost you. again. he just couldn’t let that happen.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who always responds to your texts and calls right after you press send or hit the ring button. he values your time and doesn’t want you to feel ignored after that one particular incident… when he fell asleep the entire afternoon and his phone conveniently died, only to see a number of missed calls and text messages from you the moment he woke up. he felt really bad at how worried you got, so he made a promise to always keep himself available for you.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who enjoys hotpot, and has made it a habit to suggest dining at his favorite hotpot place after a successful mission. it’s not just the spicy broth that he loves about that place; it’s also your care in serving him and arranging ingredients in his bowl. you were such a dream girl to look at.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who gets very jealous whenever you’d talk about another male colleague of yours. he wouldn’t say it out loud, but the signs are there when he starts showing that cute, grumpy face. he becomes very competitive too, asking questions like, “so, did you enjoy your time with him?” or “do you usually talk to him a lot?” and you figured that the best way to cut him off during his fits of jealousy, is to squeeze his cheeks and give him a soft, tender kiss, swearing to him that you are his and his only.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who makes it a routine to take note of the way other couples interact. and he’s specifically observing the man more than the woman. he has a journal called, ‘how to make my girlfriend happy’ where he writes about what he would notice guys typically do to make their girlfriends smile and laugh. one time, while he was walking downtown, he passed by an arcade place that had a row of new claw machines. the guy managed to get his girlfriend a stuffed toy, and in seeing how much the girl liked it, xavier invites you the next day for a claw machine date, promising that he won’t stop until he gets you the bunny plushie you wanted.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you call him ‘xavi’, both casually and… sensually. there’s something so sexy about hearing you say “xavi~” into his ear, especially when you’re leaning way too close to him that he can smell that sweet scent of yours.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier whose mind is as vast as the known universe. he enjoys talking about the cosmos, the galaxy, and the stars alike—sometimes, he’d even be poetic about it. and that’s why he got the nickname ‘galaxy kid’ from you. there are nights where you two would go to the rooftop, watching the stars while lying next to each other. for xavier, there’s nothing more peaceful than stargazing with the girl he adores.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who was extremely nervous on your first night, because you were his first the same way he was yours. he doesn’t want to seem inexperienced in the sex department, so he tried gathering learning resources prior to you spending the night over at his apartment. in his head, he had mental notes, a very explicit and detailed one, of the things he had to do to please you: 1) kiss you, stroke your hair, and lay you in bed 2) slowly undress you, continue kissing down your body, cup your breast, and trace your curves 3) spread your legs open, place his fingers on your clit, then play with your sensitive bud, gently insert a finger or two 4) deepen the kiss when you moan, guide your hand and make you stroke his length, while he pulls his fingers out and sucks his digits to taste you 5) make sure you’re all wet and aroused, place his swollen tip on your entrance carefully, bury his cock inch-by-inch and stop whenever it hurts you, then wait until you’ve adjusted before he starts rocking his hips back and forth. was it a success? of course! he had followed every step diligently.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who ended up asking for two more rounds after your first session. he thought he didn’t perform well the first time because he felt like you made him cum too fast. he just didn’t expect you to be that tight, like your pussy was swallowing his member, your velvet walls wrapping around his girth as if milking him of his cum. missionary was the perfect position to start, but for the second round, he insisted on letting you ride him so you’d find the rhythm you want. and boy, did he go crazy as he watched you move your hips so goddamn sensually. he couldn’t stop his hands from touching your body, kneading your tits, and squeezing your buttocks. “my beautiful girl,” he’d moan, half-lidded eyes staring straight into yours, “you’re so good at this, y/n.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who finally learned what fetish means after personally experiencing one of his own. it was waking up with his cock still buried deep inside your cunt, his arms protectively wrapped around your frame as you slept soundly. or were you already awake by then? he wasn’t sure, but he could feel your pussy clenching around his shaft and he couldn’t tell if you were doing it on purpose. but damn, isn’t that hot? he’d think to himself, with his member growing harder the more he thought about it. “my bunny’s so naughty.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you pet his hair like a good boy. your hands are magical! he’d fall asleep in a blink of an eye when he’s laying on your lap and you’re running your fingers through his hair. during nighttime though, he’s an absolutely sucker for the more dominant version of you. the way you’d pull his hair, grab his chin, and even as far as playing with his aching member using the tip of your tongue. agh! you’re making him sin.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who has a knack for giving you small gifts and trinkets, like that pretty little ribbon he saw at a store. or that moon-shaped desk lamp. or that pearl bracelet with a bunny charm. his girlfriend isn’t just sexy, she’s also cute. so she needs to have cute things!

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who treats you like a princess and makes sure you’re always warm and comfortable around him. too cold? he’d be sure to bring his hoodie for you. too hot? he’d buy you the best ice cream in town. whatever you wanted, he would get it. and he never, ever lets go of your hand whenever you two are walking around. he just can’t let you wander too far off, afraid that he won’t be able to protect you if he can’t see you. he adores you so much, and his heart swells at the mere thought of you. because there’s nothing more precious to him than the first and only girl he’ll ever love in this world. you.

[catching-the-light]

wc: 1.2k

[18+ only]

content: mentions of oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex and cockwarming [very brief]

[just a little something i wrote. pretty much all smut with little to no plot.]

With the side of her face pressed down into the mattress and hips snapping against her ass - all that flooded her ears were his deep grunts, the sound of skin clashing and her lewd moans. He had woken her up in the middle of the night, but she didn’t mind. She had given him permission to wake her up whenever he needed it. More specifically, she had even given him permission to wake her up by kissing her right between her plush thighs. It was one of her favorite things - waking up to her boyfriend eating her out. She didn’t understand how he could be so good at it. All her previous boyfriends had complained when she asked for it. They would say it made their jaw hurt. That they didn’t like the thought of putting their tongue down there, but they never did complain when she would put her tongue on them.

Harry was unlike any other man she had met. He doted on her. He took care of her. He provided for her. If it were up to him, (Y/N) would never have to lift a finger, but he knew that his girl also liked being self-sufficient. He both admired and loathed how independent she could be sometimes. He loved how strong she was, but sometimes it scared him. He couldn’t help but wonder every now and then what would happen if (Y/N) realized she didn’t need him anymore - didn’t want to be his anymore. Harry was sure that his heart would never be mended if that happened.

(Y/N) was his everything. He never had a love like her before, and he had no intention of having another love ever. He was going to marry her. That was a cold hard fact.

“Harry,” she whimpered as she brought one of her hands back and behind her.

He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. Placing his large hand in hers, he intertwined their fingers - flexing his to give hers a soft squeeze.

“Feeling good, baby?” Harry’s chin rested against his chest as he looked down at where his thick cock entered his girlfriend.

(Y/N) just hummed in response, but that wasn’t enough for Harry. Propping one foot up on the mattress, he brought his freehand down and swatted at one of her ass cheeks. “You know that’s not going to cut it.���

Stopping his thrusts, he pulled out which caused (Y/N) to gasp, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. She was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink.

Harry’s hands came down to her thighs, and he pushed them apart before plunging back inside of her with one fluid roll of his hips.

“Oh my god,” (Y/N) moaned with her eyes screwed shut. “You’re so fucking deep, H.”

Smirking to himself, Harry leaned down and scraped his teeth against his beautiful girlfriend’s jawline. “Do you like that, (Y/N)? Feeling me so deep in there?”

“Yes, yes,” she panted as he started pounding into her once more. “I love it when you’re this deep. I feel you all the way…all the way in here.”

Placing a hand over her lower stomach, (Y/N) pressed down - eliciting a groan from Harry and another mewl of pleasure from her with just how good that felt. 

(Y/N) was never properly fucked before, and Harry caught onto that by the first time they slept together. She made him work for it, something he didn’t mind doing by any means, but when the time actually came, he was seething at her past lovers at what he had seen. Sexy and confident (Y/N) had retreated into a shell of herself the moment he had her laid out on his mattress. She had asked him to turn almost all the lights off, and the ones that were left on had been turned down. She had asked that he not remove her bra, and that he just pull her panties to the side. It pained him to realize that she didn’t want him to see her fully naked.

That changed before Harry entered her that night. He took his time to kiss over every inch of her skin. To compliment every piece of her that he could see. He let her know that she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen in the world. The most beautiful woman to ever be in his bed. He made it clear that no one before her ever compared, and that no one ever would.

By the time he took her home the next morning, (Y/N) had allowed Harry to take her in four different positions, resulting in six orgasms total. It was obvious to both of them that they’d never get enough of each other just after that one night. 

“Squeezin’ my cock so tight. You’re gonna have me coming sooner than I want to,” Harry huffed out a laugh at himself, and it caused (Y/N) to also giggle. “But, fuck, honey, you just feel too damn good. Such a snug little thing.”

His words had (Y/N)’s cunt pulsing around him even more, and he could tell she was right on the edge of her orgasm. 

Sucking on the pad of his thumb, Harry brought it down to start rubbing precise circles against his girlfriend’s clit, and that had her arching her back off the bed.

“Holy shit,” she gasped - toes curling and fists clenching against the pale pink sheets surrounding them. “I’m about to cum.”

Harry watched as (Y/N) threw her head back which resulted in her pretty neck being completely exposed to him. He could feel her walls beginning to clamp down around him, and with one more deep thrust, her orgasm gushed around his length.

“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss over (Y/N)’s collarbone. “Such a good girl f’me.”

Once she felt like the air had properly returned to her lungs, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to stare at the gorgeous man above her.

“Fill me up, please,” she pouted her lips at him as she tapped her fingertips against the spot on her stomach that she had pressed down on earlier. “Right in here.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked as he gripped onto her hips and angled them up just a little more. “Want it tucked up in there?”

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed with a nod of her head. “I like it when it’s up there that far. It takes longer to drip out of me, and I like feeling it for as long as I can.”

(Y/N) could be dirty when she wanted to be, but he had never heard her say something like that to him before. Choking out a moan, Harry felt the warmth in his lower abdomen boil over, and before he could process it, he was shooting his load inside her slick pussy.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/N) reeled from the feeling of Harry pumping his cum into her. He didn’t stop until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up with his shaky arms anymore. He collapsed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him as they both continued to come down from their highs.

“I love when you wake me up in the middle of the night like that,” (Y/N) played with Harry’s curls as she spoke. “Can we fall back asleep like this?”

“Sure, baby,” Harry puckered a kiss to the top of one of her breasts. “And then when we wake up in a few hours, I’ll continue fucking that same load into you before giving you another."

[hearts4sturniolo]

𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐨, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

where your love for a very specific accessory does wonders for you

warning: foul language, oral f!receiving, p in v, rough sex, degradation, praise, use of pet names, overstimulation

notes: happy halloween sexies, guess whose back ;) story fully written for my wife, her inspo brought me back from the grave <3

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

you didn't consider yourself a weak person by any means, mentally and physically. life had thrown enough at you and you had handled it with grace until now. you were a few dates in with a guy you had just recently met, attire usually casual clothes and nice, fixed hair that usually ended up messy by the end of the night. after some time spent alone on this friday evening, you get a call from said guy asking to come to his place for the first time and how he was on his way to get you.

simple enough right? wrong.

matt pulled up to your house as you are locking your front door. his windows were tinted so you could never really see inside until you were opening up the passenger door. when you did, you practically turned into a puddle as you found out your one weakness.

very attractive men in backwards hats.

which led you to where you were now, half naked on this mans bed, straddling his lap as he sat against his headboard. "fuck honey," matt groaned, hands gripping your bare thighs as you sucked his neck "what's gotten into you tonight?"

"mm nothing." you whimpered, his hands forcing you to grind down on his dick. the panties you had on doing very little for you as they were soaking wet, just causing you to feel him in a more intense way.

your lips pressed into his as an act to get him to shut it, tongue pushing its way into his mouth. a groan escaped matt's lips as he continued to grind against your pussy, his fingers digging into you with brutal pressure. you didn't give a fuck if he left bruises, you were an empty canvas begging to be turned into art.

his tatted arm came up to grip your jaw, "you gonna tell me the truth or are you gonna keep lyin' to me."

your face turned beat red and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to turn away and hide but his grip on you remained steady. his cock flush against you making it harder to think by the second, but you mustered enough courage to mumble incoherently.

"what was that baby? cmon speak up for me." matt spoke gently, thumb stroking your cheek as he used the other hand to slowly grind you back down on him.

your head spun in circles as you tried to ground yourself and take control back of the situation, "that slutty fuckin' hat."

"what?" he questioned, jaw slacking up.

"don't make me say it again matt, please." you pleaded, desperately trying to squirm out of his grasp but to no avail.

"my hat huh?" matt questioned again, moving to hold you as he flipped you onto your back, caging you to the bed. his lips trailing kisses down your body between sentences. his fingers intertwined with your lacy panties as he dragged them off you. "gotta watch that pretty mouth though."

"it's true though, 'knew what you were doing when-" his mouth enveloping your core, cutting you off and causing a strangled moan to come out of you.

he messily sucked on your clit as your hands flew to grip the sheets next to you. "told you to watch it, mouthing off isn't gonna make this go any quicker." it felt like within seconds you were already so close to finishing. "fuckin' soaked f'me baby, god, i wanna ruin you."

his words definitely weren't helping.

"ruin me, please." you begged, his eyes looking up at your from his place in-between your legs. his backwards cap still sat nicely around his head as you nearly came from the sight.

he propped himself back up, away from you, as he threw his hat somewhere in the room and pealed off the sweatshirt from his back with one hand. smirk plastered on his face as he began to tug off his sweatpants and boxers in one motion, cock springing free. "oh baby, if this is how i get you, i'll wear that hat every fucking time i see you."

you whined pathetically as you watched him stroke his cock, hovering over you. there was no possible way of hiding your arousal now, you were soaked just from the sight of seeing him in a hat and now you were whining at the slightest glimpse of his dick. grabbing a pillow, he lifted your hips off the bed to slide it underneath you. beads of sweat starting to form just barely between his eyebrows as he zoned in on you.

he tapped his tip against your clit, smearing his precum and mixing it with your slick. your eyes fluttered closed as he eased himself into you, sighing with content as he pushed himself to the point of bottoming out. the way you squeezed around him could've caused him to cum on the spot, your scrunched up face making him painfully harder. he thrusted into you at an antagonizing pace, "atta girl, fuck, this pussy was just made for me wasn't it?"

"mhm, all yours baby," matt's thrust became more rapid as he positioned himself closer towards your body, "god, fuck me."

your legs wrapped instinctively around his back, pulling him even closer towards you as he pounded into you. his hands flew to your waist to hold himself stable and to hold you in place, fingernails digging into your skin. the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room as you felt him hit your g-spot. "fuck."

"so fuckin' tight, so fuckin' perfect." his eyes roamed up and down your body. tits bouncing back and forth as one hand grabbed your thigh to pull a leg over his shoulder. the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, was sending you into a blissed out state.

"matt, please, g'na cum soon." you moaned, legs clenching around his figure.

"take it, that's my good girl, fuckin' take it." the pace he's fucking you at forms that familiar tight coil in your gut, threatening to spill over at any second. matt reaches down and thumbs your clit, your thighs tremble as your orgasm rushes over you in an instant. you try to wriggle out of matts hold on you, but he continues to thrust in and out of you.

he grunts as he speaks, "you're funny if you think that's the only one im gettin' outta you tonight, wanna call me a slut? you're gonna see what its like to be treated like one."

taglist: @sweetangelgirl7 @hanbinics @mattscoquette

[rainy-day-gracie]

wedding night (1)

pairing: general marcus acacius x virgin!wife!reader

content warning(s); dual pov, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, period typical misogyny (Ancient Rome), mentions of violence/warfare, mention (1) of sexual violence (not against reader), mentions of pregnancy, attempted bedding ceremony, reader has hair that can be pinned back, steamy kisses, crazy amounts of sexual tension, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, virgin!reader, SOFTTTTT marcus acacius, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: this has been living in my head for weeks now, along with every new photo we get of general marcus acacius because of course. this can be read as a prequel to bloodlust, or read entirely on its own. the reader insert is written as the same character in each fic.

this will be part 1 of the wedding night, and part 2 will include smut :)

---

You considered bolting as the sun rose on the morning of your wedding day. Stealing one of the nobleman's horses, putting as many miles as you could between yourself and the General's country house.

But, from what you've heard about the General, there would not be a corner of the earth that he would not find you in.

Your palms were clammy with sweat as the handmaidens pinned your hair back into a style of a bride. You wondered how they couldn't possibly hear the quick, panicky beating of your heart as each moment brought you closer to what you considered a life sentence.

General Marcus Acacius is venerated like a god in Rome, and anywhere else. Men boast about his wartime accomplishments as if they were their own, and ladies whisper about his scarred face like they would a demon within the walls.

So many rumors swirling around the Emperor's most esteemed general.

His hands were permanently stained red with blood, he burns the heads of his enemies in sacrifice to the gods, he kills men with icy calculation, takes women with fiery passion.

You could only imagine what kind of monster was waiting for you at the altar.

---

Marcus was in no good spirits on the day of his wedding, the marriage forced on him almost as much as it was forced on his...

Gods above, his bride.

The idea of having a bride was almost as foreign as you yourself were, since never once had Marcus even considered marrying anyone. With all the bloodshed and near-death experiences, he never exactly considered himself a man that was meant to be a husband. Or a father, for that matter.

Marcus tried not to shudder at the end of the aisle as the chorus began singing, sounding all to close to a death march.

At the sound of the choir, you entered into the wedding hall, for all gods and men to see.

His bride.

The world seemed to be brighter, the flowers bloomed more beautiful, and Marcus' vision turned clearer as you stepped into his sight.

For a moment, he forgot all about the blood of men on his hands. The shame that burdened him was cast off. Maybe he wasn't completely condemned to the Underworld.

The very possibility of you being his bringing him more relief than any wine or fine lady. The possibility of you being in his life was... redeeming. Redefining. Remaking.

One look, and he made a vow, but not to you. To himself.

If any harm were to come to you, he would unleash the fury of the gods upon them. He would protect you to the end of his days. Honor you, and serve you, however you may wish.

---

Fear coated your every nerve as you beheld your soon-to-be husband.

Nothing could have prepared you for just how mighty General Acacius was. Tan, broad, and mighty, dressed in fine white robes similar to yours. His bare hands were strong, made for swinging axes, throwing punches, and taking what he wanted. At the altar, he seemed to be near brooding, speaking his vows quietly, his voice like a roll of thunder.

You managed to keep your voice steady while you spoke your vows, but there was nothing you could do to keep your hands from shaking as the priest brought out the rings.

The general reached for your hand, and you were unable to keep from trembling.

His touch was warm on your skin, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he slid the gold wedding band onto your finger. You found the nerve to meet his brown eyes, finding something utterly unreadable as he held your gaze. Could it be... fondness?

Gods, he was beautiful.

His touch steadied you, though you still exchanged rings with a thundering heart.

"In the sight of Gods and men, you are now Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride, General."

The priest's words echoed in your head.

Husband and Wife.

The general leaned forward, an unspoken question in his warm eyes.

Swallowing, you gave a near imperceptible nod.

For such a harsh man, such a dominating man, his kiss was utterly... soft. Tender. Almost coaxing.

After a moment, he pulled away first, and you could've sworn he lingered, cherishing the air between you... before turned to the cheering wedding party.

In an instant, he changed, switching from the gentle kiss of a lover to a commanding force, a man that drinks in praise like fine wine.

A mighty man, indeed.

---

Marcus tried his best to not feel too wounded that his new wife was completely terrified of him.

He felt the thundering pulse in your hand as he slid that ring on, and he wondered if you saw the wedding band as a chain, a set of shackles. It's all too true for other women in Rome.

You barely spoke to him during the wedding feast, only giving small nods and forced smiles in between sips of wine. He had a good feeling you were resisting the urge to swallow it down in one gulp.

Marcus couldn’t help but study you— at first innocently, taking in the curve of your lips, the shine of your eyes, the polite smile you gave when someone offered congratulations.

Damn his dirty mind. As the night went on, and the celebrations continued beyond what he would’ve liked, he tried, and failed, not to eye your body as a means of distraction from the rowdy feast.

It started with your neck. He traced the slope of it with his eyes, marking every freckle and curve. He prayed to all the gods that you would want him to leave his marks on you.

Downward, he peeked slightly at your breasts whilst cursing himself. Of course, they appeared perfect beneath your wedding stola, and he wondered what manner of sounds you would make when he took them into his hands, into his mouth.

And then… Gods, those hips—

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” Emperor Geta jeered, pulling you from your seat with a firm jerk of your elbow. His eyes were greedy, scheming. “Let us see what is underneath that—“

Your face flushed with either embarrassment or fear or both. And that was all Marcus needed to see.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.”

Marcus lowered his voice to a deep warning, the kind that has sent men running for their lives.

Geta scoffed, still holding to your elbow. “It’s a wedding, Acacius, it’s your wedding. Don’t you want to show off the prize of your latest conquest? Distribute the winnings? Strip down that—“

Marcus stood, towering several inches over Geta’s slimy face. “I said… there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Geta kept his hands on you, and Marcus’s vision tinged with red hot fury.

His voice was a rumble, a threat in itself. “It’s my wedding, is it not? And I say there will be no bedding ceremony.”

People were watching now, the feast gone silent at this standoff.

Marcus knew how to pick his battles, cut his losses. But when staring down Geta, the most powerful man in the empire, he realized that for you, he would pick every single one if it meant he kept you safe.

The moments that passed were crackling, the tension between the two men sucking all the air from the celebratory hall.

Geta saw something in Marcus’s unyielding gaze, something that told him he would not win this fight, and decided the bedding ceremony wasn’t worth the scrutiny.

As the Emperor walked away, Marcus took your hand, and led you to your marriage bed.

—

You couldn’t find the words.

The general nearly trembled in rage on the walk to the bedchambers, but still, he maintained that odd gentleness, holding your hand as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

Servants opened the grand doors as you entered, showing a large room with a massive four poster bed and elegant tapestries lining the walls—

Then the doors shut. And you were left alone with the legendary, bloodletting general.

And you still couldn’t find the damn words.

You knew what came next. The husband will take what is now his.

In this case, you expected your husband to take you in the same way he took lands for the empire— violently, mercilessly, with the intention of forging new legacy, through a son of Rome.

“Before you ask, my General, I wish to assure you that I am untouched,” you blurted, quoting what your mother taught you to say before you were to be… intimate. “I am pure, though I can only hope to be worthy—“

“Darling wife,” the general said quietly, so different from the commanding force from the feast. He held your hands in his, leaning down and kissing your knuckles in reverence.

You went silent, shocked at the soft fondness in his tone.

He peered at you with curiosity, and almost amusement. “The only thing I wish from you is for you to call me by my name, not title. No general, no lord, but my name. I hear it so little nowadays that I will look forward to hearing it from your lips.”

“As you wish… Marcus,” you breathed, eyes locked on his.

Marcus let out a little sigh, like he was relieved. “It’s much prettier when you say it.”

You drop your head in bashfulness, more confused by the moment. The way he spoke so kindly, so fondly.

“You know what is meant to happen tonight?” Marcus asked, almost hesitantly. You nod, undeniable fear curling in your stomach. “I need you to understand something, my darling, so listen very carefully.”

He pulled you toward the bed, sitting you both down on the silken sheets. His eyes on yours were discerning, and intent, like he was searching for something within your stare.

“I will never, ever, force myself upon you. Not in this life, or the next, or the next. I know what you might’ve heard about me, and much of it is true, but never would I take a woman without her permission. You belong to yourself, and if you never should like me in your bed, I will honor that to the end of my days."

You blinked at him in confusion. "So, you do not... you do not want me?"

Marcus exhaled sharply, looking down at your intwined hands. "That... that does not matter."

"Why not? A husband has the right to take what is his--"

"No man has any right to take a woman's body for himself, husband or not. What... what do you think is to happen tonight?"

Heat rises to your face, embarrassed at the question. By the look on his face, he was embarrassed, too.

"I don't... I don't know how it works, but some of the other wives at court say that the consummation of marriage is one of the more... painful duties of a wife. What you are meant to do to me... it's painful," you murmured, and quickly begin stammering. "B-but is it a great honor to serve you, my--"

"May I kiss you, darling?"

Some candles had been left burning, illuminating him in a warm glow. Marcus's eyes were soft, a rich, chocolate brown in the light of your bedroom, and something about them made your core flutter like one of the candles.

"Yes... yes, please."

Marcus smiled softly, and moved his hands to the sides of your neck. They were scarred, and calloused... and so warm.

His lips met yours almost hesitantly, like he was holding himself back. They were tender, tasting of sweet wine. Fingers curled lightly into your pinned hair, pulling you closer as his chest pressed against yours.

You moved your mouth with his, suddenly feeling the need for... more. You didn't know what, but you just knew you needed it.

His tongue slipped against yours, and the groan that left his throat left your pussy throbbing.

"Marcus--" you gasped, losing your breath as his lips traveled down to your neck. You could've sworn he moaned in response, sucking at your pulse point, leaving it a delicious shade of red--

"Do you want me to keep going?" He gruffed, trailing light kisses along your throat.

Oh, gods, how you wanted him to. "Yes, but..."

Marcus withdrew instantly at your seemed hesitation, pulling his mouth away but keeping his hands in your hair.

"I'm fearful," you admitted, holding his tunic to keep your hands from shaking with both desire and nerves. "Not of you, but... the rest of it."

Marcus nodded, swallowing. "We could continue kissing, if you like."

You laughed lightly, the nerves mellowing for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm prepared to have you in that way, but I know that I want to. I know that I... I want you."

Marcus's soft eyes shone with fondness, but had a wicked edge to them, like he was plotting something.

"I know I want you as well, darling. I promise, I will make sure you are prepared to have me... perhaps even over-prepared."

Your brows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

The general smiled. "I'll show you what I mean."

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Do you mind doing a smut blurb about dry humping with Logan pls. I just need to read some dry humping with that man omfg

Tysm in advance you write Logan smut so well 😫😫 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Ofcourse I can lovely, and thank u so much omg im blushing. I'd do anything for this old man and if it were up to me I would have achieved atleast 1 nut on every inch of his body. you know how it is. I love writing dialogue so much, so I hope when I do it's like sexy and in character and not like ew why would he say that ykwim 😭😭😭 Also just realized u said dry humping and this is very much not dry, so if u want specifically some like over the clothes bumping and grinding I fuck with that too, just lmk 😋

Logan couldn't wrap his head around how so men come home to their beautiful girls, just to mistreat them. (he told me himself)

He couldn't imagine coming home and doing anything but pleasing whatever fresh faced beauty had burrowed their way into his heart.

Especially when that freshed faced beauty was as freshed faced and beautiful as you.

You'd fight him, shoo him away when he leers over your shoulder at your makeup routine and scold him when he's got his phone camera in your face. You'd never change his mind, no matter how hard youd try.

He didn't know how you could either, especially now when he's got you like this.

The room is hot and sticky as sounds of you and logans debauchery fill the room. The scene is nothing short of pornographic, since hes got you with your soaked core pressed into his thigh, your legs moving you in a mind numbing pattern.

Logans hands on your hips do most the work, though. He's got you pressed down in a way you're not sure you could sustain on your own, your hips locked back and clit taking most of the abuse, and it's driving you up the wall.

Your eyes are cast down, stairing at the fat of your pussy being smushed back and forth, leaving a slimy trail of slick to drip down the sides of Logans limb.

Logans eyes, however, have not left your face for a moment. You look jaw dropping like this, your head bobbing as your hands desperately grab onto whatever they can hold, your moans reaching a fever pich every time he applies just a little more force.

"You can take it, right baby?" The words don't make it past your lips, but you shakily nod and pant an audible "mhm".

"Atta girl," He praises, one hand coming up to grab your chin. He's got a goofy grin on his face, his pupils blown out and his hair falling into his face as he brings your eyes back up to his.

"There she is," His smile turns fond upon seeing your face again. His hand quickly returns to your hip and resumes his relentless assault on your core, this time his eyes locked on yours in an intimate embrace.

Not only can he smell it, but he can feel your impending climax. He can feel the way the slick is pouring from you, can feel the way your bud gets all stiff and sensitive. If nothing else, it was hard to ignore the way you shake like a leaf, your lungs void of air as it all overwhelms you.

"That's it right there, huh princess?" He asks, your voice becoming high pitched and whiney as you nod, your hands tightening on his tanktop.

"Let me see it baby. Don't take those pretty eyes off of me," He orders, picking up the pace, sprinting to bring you to your finish.

"Lo- its- mph~ i-im-" "shhh, just let it go," He whispers lowly, the sound going straight to your already buzzing center. It's not long before your eyes break his gaze, mindlessly rolling into the back of your head as the feeling consumes your body whole.

His hands don't falter, working you through your orgasm as you relentlessly shake and cry in his hands. Your face ties up, eyes now scrunched up and mouth dropped open in what is probably his favorite of all your looks.

He doesn't stop till you're twitching and squirming, whines going from orgasmic to almost painful as your whole core becomes sensitive.

"Fuck- Logan," you plead, wrapping your arms around his waist and hiding your face into your neck. You let out a deep sigh as you relax into him, feeling the waves of your release leaving you and being left with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

He wraps his arms around you too, comforting you with his big arms and firm embrace.

"You have fun, princess?" He teases, kissing the crown of your head and pressing his face against it.

You respond with a quiet "mhm", face refusing to leave his neck.

He holds you like this, whispering soft words of so good, so pretty, my baby, into your ears and making your mind get all floaty and soft.

hope u enjoyed!! thank u for the request, keep them coming I'm having so much funnn omg

[mybworlds]

Into your arms, the safest place

pairing: olderboyfriend!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: You love Joel, you always have and you do everything you can to remind him of it every day.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, he's older than you, Joel is an insecure, back pain, use of you and Joel pov, not Y/N, the main character has female features, but no specific physical description so you can imagine her as you want. Established relationship, fluff moments, moments of daily life, hints of a sexual relationship, but in this one shot I'll be quite generic although some moments are precise if you know what I mean.

A/N: After reading a few posts about Joel, headcanons, etc my mind gave birth to this one-shot. I hope you like it, if you don't it's okay.

You love Joel. And he loves you. You both would do anything for each other. Even put up with things that the other finds enjoyable, but the other finds them indifferent. For example, Joel loves watching 80's movies, you keep him company, but only because you love to see his face relax and smile in front of some scene that he adores or makes him laugh and you enjoy the sight of his face relaxing for those films even if to your eyes they seem banal or unlikely. And you know that he watches reality shows with you on the couch just because he wants to see you happy by his side or watches stupid cat videos on Tiktok with you just because you giggle when you watch them waving your legs for fun.

You think about how far you've come together to be there, how many lies you've had to tell to see him, how many arguments and tantrums you've had with your parents because of your age difference.

You and Joel met at your parents' house, he had come to fix some things that were no longer working at home and that's where you shook hands and smiled warmly for the first time. You remember that you immediately found him sexy as hell, a little taciturn and brusque perhaps, but not to be criticized or despised as your mother did. At first you were around him just to follow the work he was doing, then slowly you started talking about his work, your work as a teacher, about your lives and you liked each other.

But, because of your age, Joel has always kept you at a distance in the hope that sooner or later you would meet a young man of your age rather than someone like him, a man of experience, a man with a broken marriage and a grown-up daughter who lives far away, but you've never seen other kids your age. Your best friends have also tried to dissuade you from the idea of being with Joel, but they have never succeeded even today when they ask you if you regret your choice, you always said that you love him as he is with his infinite merits and many defects.

Joel has always been afraid of losing you, he was afraid - and you're sure he still is - of losing you that you'd find him too old for you or too unattractive considering his gray hair that sprout here and there among his hair and beard every other day. But you always managed to reassure him and make him feel all your love and put aside his fears.

You managed to arouse Joel's interest from the very first moment, from when you were standing in the doorway watching him work and then you fascinated him when you transmitted to him all your love and your dedication to your work. You are a beautiful person, he remembers thinking from the very beginning. Your energy was clearly visible from the first glance and then, knowing you, he was sure of it. When you shyly confided in him that you had fallen in love with him, Joel thought it was a joke because there was no way a wonderful woman like you could want an old man like him. He later told you that he was flattered by your interest, but he pushed you to look at other boys, not at him. And you, in response, kissed him.

It wasn't easy at first because Joel realized that your family turned their backs on you because you chose him. He has always felt guilty about this, but you have never blamed him or reproached him for that. You chose him and the love you have for each other.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and you still haven't gotten tired of him. Every evening when he comes home from work, you welcome him with a warm smile and kiss him happily.

This evening you get up from the table where you correct your students' homework and go to meet him, smiling and kissing him.

“You are beautiful, my love,” he whispers in your ear, kissing your lips first, your cheek then and burying his nose in your hair, while he hugs you tightly and feels you kiss the crook of his neck.

“I missed you,” you coo softly kissing his graying beard, his chin and back up the other side, “You are hot as hell, babe.” It's amazing how it seems like you can almost sense what he's feeling about his scruffy beard and his increasingly graying hair.

He smiles. He remembers how uncomfortable he felt in the early days when his few friends told him that he was probably having a midlife crisis dating a hot chick like you. He blushed, maybe they were right, although he loved (and loves) you deeply. For him you were never a passing thing to be forgotten in some time, as his friends told him, you were and are always more. He's so deeply in love with you.

“I prepared a dish for you, love,” you tell him wrapping your arms around his neck “I guess you didn't eat anything, right?” You ask thoughtfully and he loves that about you too. He makes sure to tell you this every day because he's always so afraid that you might realize one day that you want more, that you want a different person by your side, that he is not enough for you.

“You're still my wonderful, gorgeous girl,” he whispers in your ear. “I'm a lucky man,” he adds, gently kissing your earlobe and you shiver. He can clearly see the shivers rippling across your skin, and when they do, he places more kisses along your neck and shoulder. He loves hearing you giggle and holding you tighter. “How was your day?” He asks, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Full, but you know I love my boys. They are always so full of creativity, energy, and then they are incredibly challenging. And. . . What?” you pause, noticing the small smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“When you talk about your students, your eyes light up.” he replies, smiling widely “I'd only go back to school if I had a teacher who knows what she's doing and who teaches with a smile on her face like you always do.”

Your smile becomes even wider if possible, “Why, what was your teacher like? Miss Rottenmeier?” you joke.

He shakes his head smiling, “No, but she wasn't beautiful as you are, baby girl.” You relax against him “Anyway, I was thinking that tomorrow night we could go out to dinner, would that be okay with you?”

“Sure, now let's go have dinner, I'm starving!” you exclaim grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen.

“You haven't had dinner yet?! Oh, poor lil thin’, I'm sorry.” He says as you sit down to eat "I'm sorry, I thought that considering the time you had eaten!" He adds sincerely sorry.

“You know that if you don't come back I won't be able to relax and eat.” You reply, biting with great gusto into the vegetable pie you had prepared.

The two of you talk at length about the new project that Joel is personally involved in, what he does, what he thinks he's going to do. His eyes light up and then you can't help but notice the passion and the energy he puts into talking about his work. It's something you've always loved about him. You remember when he told you about the fixes he was doing to your parents' house and all the technicalities he used. He probably noticed how you pursed your lips or the look on your face that you didn't understand what he was talking about and so he rephrased his words and from that moment on you never stopped talking.

You think back to that night of your first kiss, you remember how you were afraid of being rejected, but at the same time you didn't want to lose him. You noticed his ears turn red and his tone hesitant after your confession, but you knew what you wanted and most of all you wanted him.

He has always made you feel good, treated you well and with respect, he makes you happy in everything, even if he is tired after a day of hard work, just to see you happy, he would take you out to dinner. But you never asked for anything more from him than love and mutual respect.

You remember the first time you made love, you had already had other experiences, but in his arms it seemed like you had never done it, that you were still a virgin. You made love against each other's foreheads, your hot breaths mingling, your vision blurred with pleasure, even though you did everything you could to look into his eyes and don't miss a single expression of his. His hands gently cupping your face as he kissed you and thrust in and out of you sending jolts of pure pleasure up your spine.

“Whadda ya thin’?” he asks looking into your eyes and seeking your hand which he wraps in his and caresses it with a thumb.

“I was thinking about when we made love,” you answer smiling at him lasciviously "and when we met."

His smile becomes tender and his eyes sweet and soft looking almost like a puppy's. Oh, you love so much his well defined masculine features, his wrinkles.

“And I thought you never wanted to show me one of your photo albums! I'd love to see that so much,” you squeak, looking at him with doe eyes that you know make him melt.

Joel has jealously hidden them from your sight, not because he has something to hide, but because he is afraid that you might realize how old he is compared to you and that you might like him better the way he was. And so he always delayed that moment by telling you tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, but now what excuse can he make up?

“Oh, c'mon, babe, I'd love so much,” you meow using a pleading tone and kissing him in a quick, gentle motion. You know he won't be able to resist. And in fact, he rolls his eyes and after muttering a stubborn lil’ thing to you, he wipes his lips and a little piece of food on his scruffy beard, he gets up and you see him disappear into the corridor.

A couple of minutes later, he reappears in the doorway with an open album in his hands and his gaze lost in a photo. Then he looks up and immediately finds your curious, “There it is,” he says placing the heavy tome in front of you on the table “I hope you're not disappointed by the comparison between what I was and what I am.” He says with his head down, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Your expression becomes surprised and sad because you understand that Joel is afraid of losing you and that you might find him less attractive today than in photographs when he was younger.

“Never.” you just whisper to him, holding out your hand which he immediately grabs, while you invite him to sit next to you.

His photographs show a decidedly younger Joel, the wrinkles are much less visible and superficial, the beard is less thick and sparser, the expression is more tender and shy, but his eyes are always the same sweet and deep, the same ones that made you fall in love with him.

“You are so beautiful,” you whisper “and I’m so in love with you and I’m so lucky to have you by my side.” You add kissing him softly.

“Boo,” he says rubbing his nose against yours “I'm the lucky one.” He says kissing you “And I will do anything to make you happy, but please, if you ever realize that you are no longer happy with me, just tell me.”

You know you're not going to calm him down by just telling him it'll never happen, so you say, “You know me. You know how stubborn and determined I am.”

He rests his forehead against yours, “I know. And that's also why I love you, my love.” He confesses to you, while you sit on his lap. You love feeling his hands on your hips or when he holds you tightly to him. Joel, even if he doesn't speak, is able with his gaze or with his gestures to make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. So when he tells you that if you are no longer sure of your love for him, you would also like to tell him that no one has ever made you feel as special as he does.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, pulling you closer to his crotch, “if I didn't have this terrible back pain, I'd take you in my arms and we'd go to bed right away.” He confesses to you in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, damn!” You exclaim, moving away from him and getting up from on top of him, he looks at you puzzled, “Come on, get up, let's go to bed.” He looks at you with that lewd look and you roll your eyes and snicker, “Don't be so smart, come on.”

When you're in bed, you don't really know how long you can resist him if while you're giving him a back massage he keeps grunting and moaning telling you how good you make him feel. You are practically sitting on his ass while massaging his spine, shoulder blades and hips.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moans “I love you so much,” he adds in a whisper and you smile.

“Why do I give you amazing massages?” you tease him, continuing to move your open palms first along his back and then closing them into fists.

“Because no one has ever understood me like you do. With you, there's no need for many words. We understand each other with our eyes.”

“Are we soulmates or not, you and I?” You ask him and receive another moan of pleasure in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You add playfully.

He is so grateful for what you are doing. And when you say you are soul mates, he couldn't agree more. You are the perfect woman for him. Sometimes a little chatty, but other times the most understanding even without saying anything to you. He never thought it possible to find a love you. True love. He had always been convinced that his other half had been his ex-wife and that once he was alone, he would never have a real chance again. Then one day you came along and that was the moment he started breathing again. He thought that a young woman like you would get tired of him in a few weeks, but that's not the case. You are there for him, when he wants to vent about a problem, when he talks about his daughter who gives him a lot of trouble, when he wants to watch old movies, you listen to him, give him advice, support him and you watch movies with him, you lie down with your head on his lap and watch them with him. And he who never understood the meaning started following various trends just because you showed them to him and watching videos on Tiktok with you. And he started to love it.

“I love you, baby girl.” he says, caressing your legs in a sweet gesture. Your skin crawls as you continue. "I can feel it," he moans with his eyes closed as he continues his caress.

“What?” you ask leaning forward and placing a kiss on his shoulder, savouring the contact with his skin filling him with kisses.

He smiles, “Are you trying to seduce me?” He asks you, as you lean on top of him and brush his cheek against yours.

“I don't need to do this.” you say kissing his lips and he opens his hazel eyes “Never doubt how I feel about you, I love you and you know that in your arms I am perfectly safe. I love you, babe.”

He shifts slightly making you move from on top of him and lie down next to him where you cuddle and then make love again and again.

Joel loves the idea of you carrying his child, but he's afraid to broach the subject with you because you're young and maybe you don't want kids, maybe not yet. So he has never told you or pressured you in any way, but when he is completely buried inside you he can't help but think what it would be like if you told him you were carrying his child.

You moan deliciously in his ear his name as he makes you come and you intertwine his fingers with yours. Tonight Joel is making you enjoy like never before by giving you more than one climax. You are almost exhausted, some tears escape you and he wipes your tears away with his thick thumbs, whispering to you in a low, hoarse voice, “s’alright, baby girl, you're such a good girl fo’ me” wrapping you in his arms while you twist your face into an expression of pure pleasure as you collapse on top of him.

“I love you,” you say “Into your arms, there's the safest place”.

[ridingthatd]

.｡.: SUKUNAS FILTHY THING

.｡.: sukunaxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, sukuna is filthy, breeding kink, gojo is involved

sukuna wanted you since the first moment he laid his eyes on you- his seven eyes on you, to be more specific. not only in this life, but in all of your 1000 thousands life, each one of them he only seems to fall in love harder and harder- and each life it gets harder and harder for him to let you go, because you seem to make him promise you the same stupid promise in each of your life- to not revive you, at first he just laughed it off.

but to his surprise you were serious every life before you leave his miserable self, you would tell him to promise you that he wouldn't revive you- that he would just look for you in your other life, since you wanted the same feeling of falling in love with him all over again- you claimed it was the best feeling in all of your life's combined. sukuna didn't disagree, watching you bloosm and live all over again brings peace to his cold heart, he wouldn't want you to be like him- living for thousand of years, being sick in the mind, he's aware to the fact he's pure evil and he doesn't mind that one bit- but to his surprise this life of yours is gonna be different.

"who knew i was gonna see my little flower, bearing a seed of another man" sukuna tsk as he stares at your sleeping figure, looking as beautiful as you have always been, but what's different this time was your round belly, pregnant with a baby, the baby of non other then saturo gojo his moral enemy. sukuna couldn't deny that his very attractive, very lovely little filthy human looked so fucking sexy pregnant who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen the father of her baby is.

you belong to sukuna.

for sukuna, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of you.

and seeing you pregnant?

even though he can process the thought that you were swollen with this waste of human being man, sukuna could hardly complain about the sight of you, his shaft straining painfully as he lays eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts.

"such a sexy little thing" sukuna growls as he make himself comfortable on your bed, hugging you from behind, completely pressing his front against your back, he couldn't help but groan once he take a look at two large wet spots that have soaked through your shirt heavy, swollen breasts. the milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach.

two of his large hands make their way under your nightgown toward your preaky nipples poking through your shirt,so full filled with milk that his tongue is aching to lap on, so that's exactly what he do- as soon as his hands reach your swollen breasts, he form a mouth on his palm and place them directly on your nipples, two of his hands are now sucking, drinking your milk.

he purrs at the sweet taste of your milk, so so so sweet just like the clear liquid that he always used to lap on coming from your sweet little pussy.

you gently moan out once he starts sucking your earlobe in his mouth, he knows this is your sensitive spot- and he knows that you can cum just from him sucking on it and your breast- he knows any minute your body will arche and squirt all over the bed, but what he doesn't know was that as soon as you came milk also started squirting out of your boobs.

sukuna growls at the sight of you making a mess, covered in milk, and your clear cum, you were such a sensitive little flower as he always used to say- but pregnancy only seemed to make you more sensitive.

he smirks thinking about the filthy ways he can tease you, he can use your sensitivity against you, ways he can have you sobbing, begging to stuff you both in your sweet pussy and tight little ass.

but not today he isn't patient with the way he roughly use his other two arms to un tie his kimono, while he kept his other two mouth covered hands full with your nipples still sucking on your nipples that he bets are more swollen and bright red by now.

as soon as he takes his kimono off, he hiss as he free his two hard cum leaking cocks, stroking both of them together, as they make a wet noise from how much he has leaked just by making you squirt.

sukuna keep his sinful mouth-hand latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze. 

you whine in your sleep clearly not handling the sensitivity, even when sukuna himself put you to sleep, you still arched, whimpered, whined, squirted, your body missing his-

sukuna roughly flip you to your back, while he's on top of you lining his cock, getting ready to stuff your greedy cunt that's clenching around nothing. "tsk look at this, look at you, such a little whore couldn't wait for your masters cock so you used another man's instead" he tsk at you grabbing you harshly by your neck, not caring if it leaves marks- you're his after all.

he shove his tongue past your lips- the same time he shoved his cock inside of your little cunt. you jerk back, your eyes shooting open- just to roll behind your skull, your body was twitching against his, the more you arch the more you moan out.

sukuna doesn't care that you're awake now, it boils his blood with pleasure to see you this way, so drunk off his dick, can't think straight- sukuna doesn't care as he shove his other cock into your tight ass, tearing through it.

"fuuuuuck just like that so fucking tight" he groans into the ceiling, as he slams his hips into you, earning whispers from your, your body reacting to his cocks tearing through you, he looks at your belly, as he growls out.

"this- this baby is gonna be mine, it's gonna be filled with my seed instead so full of it". he only goes faster and faster- in humanly faster, as he leans in place his forehead on yours, caging you in his arms.

it’s the combination of both of his cock hitting harshly into your sweet, sensitive part of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he decides to messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, your orgasm washes over you. clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of sukunas kimono. squirting on him for the second time, sukuna would do anything to have you squirting on him forever, drowning him with your sweet honey.

sukunas eyes darken as he gently picks up your chin with his two fingers, and coo at you "good girl".

"my good fucking girl".

and what drives sukuna mad was- “yours,” you pant. “I’m yours master", your soul remembers his touch so much that you can speak those words mindlessly.

and when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up your milk that was rolling down one of your tits, from how his fingers pinched your hard bud and made you squirt it out, your body trembles not handling the sensitivity of your nipples, not handling the two cocks that stuffed both of your holes, making sure you can think about anything but his big fat cocks.

he follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside both of your holes, as he fills them in, cunt deep with ropes of cum. as fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the feeling of being filled with his thick cum, shivers run through you as cum leaks out of your ass, your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of sukunas seed from him. 

sukuna feels you rocking your hips back into him, and his answering a dark chuckle as he reaches between you. he plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. you moan softly, head falling against the pillow you and gojo share, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. both of his cocks still inside of you , remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body feels completely boneless.

he bets gojo would love the sight of you like that too.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ end ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

[ashasdiary]

Pretty Nails

Pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader Synopsis: Choso finds that he loves when you get your nails done, especially when they’re his favourite colour.  CW: established relationship, smut — voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, hand job, mutual masturbation  WC: 1.4k A/N: I got a new set and that inspired this, enjoy <3

It’s not often that you get your nails done. On occasions and once in a while, you’ll embrace your femininity and brave the energy of the nail salon to get a pretty set. 

Your boyfriend, Choso, had not yet seen you have your nails done in the few short months you’d been with him, and you were unaware of just how much he would fucking love them on you. 

You’d opted to get them done in the morning so you could spend the rest of the day with Choso. You arrive back to his place in the late morning, two cups of fresh squeezed juice in hand. 

“I’m home, Cho! I got us some juice, too…” As you toe off your shoes by the door, he rounds the corner with a small grin. 

“Hi,” he greets you with a gentle peck to your forehead. “I made you breakfast since you didn’t eat before you left.”  

You give him a puppy dog look, pouting your bottom lip, “Cho…you didn’t have to do that, I would’ve waited and had lunch with you soon anyway…”

You both walk through the hallway and into the kitchen where you set down the cups of juice that you had. You gesture to them, “Try it, I think you’ll like the combination.”

It’s the flash of blood red on your hands when you’re gesturing that makes his head snap up in concern because for a moment he thought you’d hurt yourself somewhere and were bleeding. 

You stop when you see his concerned gaze, “What’s wrong?”

His face relaxes as he realises that it’s not a cut or blood, but rather, your new nails. He lets out a low chuckle, stepping in front of you and taking your hands in his to admire them. 

“Oh! Yeah…look at them, aren’t they pretty?” You hold both hands out and wiggle your fingers as he inspects them. The deep red colour, the shape, the cleanness of it…it was very sexy. He didn’t expect to find it this hot.  

“They really are,” he breathes out, caressing your fingers gently with his thumbs. Choso didn’t have a hand fetish — was that even a thing? — but god, your hands looked so beautiful with these nails. They were perfect. 

“I’m glad you like them. I picked this shade just for you,” you admit bashfully and he grins. 

“That’s…really sweet,” he kisses your fingers and grabs the cup of juice, taking a sip before he sets the plate of breakfast in front of you, “so’s this juice. Now, eat.”

You sit and eat and he stands on the opposite side of the counter, sipping on the juice as he watches you. He’s captivated by the elegance of your hands while you’re using the cutlery. 

He finds it quite interesting how a simple thing like getting coloured nails can elevate everything. 

You finish your late breakfast — brunch, really — and clear the counter of the random things that were on there. You eye him and notice him watching you, looking at your nails specifically. 

“You really like them, don’t you?” You ask and he hums. 

“More than I thought I would,” he nods.

You gaze at him for a beat and smirk, an idea coming to you. “Come with me,” you take his hand and lead him into his bedroom where you pull off your top and your bottoms, crawling onto the bed. 

He wets his lips, feeling his blood rushing south at your forwardness. You sit back against the plush pillows and cup your breasts, playing with them and teasing your nipples. “Come sit, Cho,” you invite him and he does so, sitting cross legged in front of you. 

You slide your hands down to your hips where you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly drag them down, making sure to showcase your nails for him. 

He’s breathing slowly, watching you intently with big, dark eyes. 

“Take off your clothes for me,” you request, and he obliges, pulling off his shirt, sitting opposite you.

You pull your underwear off and toss it to the side, “Bottoms too.”

He fucking loves when you’re bossy with him and take the reins like so. His cock grows harder with each of your teasing movements; you spread your legs gradually, and he’s unhurried as he steps off the bed briefly to take off his pants, his eyes never leaving you. 

The sight of your pretty pussy on display makes his dick twitch with excitement, but it’s when you start to play with yourself, those pretty nails being front and centre— oh, he could cum right then and there. 

“Fuck…” he sighs, hand wrapping around his cock without a thought. 

You slide your fingers through your folds, spreading the slick that had gathered, circling your clit a few times with a breathy sigh of his name. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you gently dip your fingers into your entrance, biting your lip. Choso strokes himself in tandem with the slow and steady pace you’d set, and as he watches your middle fingers disappear into your tight cunt, he has to grip his cock to control himself so that he doesn’t cum too fast. 

He can’t pry his eyes off of you, he’s transfixed on the way you’re playing with yourself so sensually, drawing your fingers out and back in again, pumping them leisurely, your fingers and pretty nails shining with your slick.

“O-oh…Cho…” you let out a little moan and you open your eyes to see his boring into yours. 

He’s stroking himself a little faster and you watch him while he watches you. Your wetness seeps out around your fingers and you roll your hips against your hand with a soft whine. 

“Let me, pretty,” he kneels forward and sits directly in front of you. You sit up, slipping your fingers out of you and you bite your lip when he takes your hand and sucks your fingers clean with a deep, guttural groan. He brings his fingers to your folds, humming in contentment as he coats them in your juices and dips them into you. 

At the same time, you wrap your hand around his big cock and pump him in your fist, mewling when you feel him curl his fingers inside you. 

“Did you like that?” He husks and you moan in response, trying to focus on your ministrations on him rather than his on you. You look up at him, wanton, as you stroke him a little harder, a little faster, thumb teasing his slit.

His breath shudders as he looks down at your perfect, pretty hand wrapped around his veiny cock, and he can’t help but jut his hips up into your hand because fuck, the view. 

You’re both getting close now, and he leans in to connect your lips in a bruising kiss while he fucks you with his fingers. He alternates between curling them and straightening them, and he presses the pad of his thumb onto your swollen, throbbing clit and rubs it furiously, eager to send you over the edge. 

“Cum on my fingers, sweetness,” he murmurs to your lips, letting out a low groan shortly after. You rock your hips up against his hand, your release imminent and closing in on you. 

You go to bossily tell him no, but your words are lost on you as a loud moan takes their place, your orgasm washing over your body, making you tense up and your walls clench around his fingers, “Ah— fuck, Cho…!”

You grip his cock, the movement of your hand stuttering as you try to regain control in the midst of your high. He grunts, wrapping his hand around yours and guiding you to jerk him off. You pant as you feel his cock throb and then he’s cumming, his hot load spurting out over your joined hands. 

He curses, groaning your name as you both watch him cum. 

You pull him on top of you and into a deep, open mouthed kiss. He laps his tongue against yours, sighing contently before he breaks away and rolls onto his back. 

“Did you even drink your juice before?” He asks, eyes hooded as he lays back against the pillows with you. 

“I got something better,” you grin and shift over, dipping your head and licking up the spillage of cum over your hand, tongue running over the tip of his dick and licking him clean. 

“Touché. Protein, I guess,” he snorts. 

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[jaeyunverse]

the fake dating pact

pairing(s): park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre(s): fluff, suggestive, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rich kid au, cruise au

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): profanity, making out, implications to sex (no smut)

inspired by: dil dhadakne do

summary: in which ridiculous circumstances lead to a fake dating contract pact being struck between park sunghoon and you.

note: i’m ngl i thought i’d reposted this fic but i’m not able to find it so here we go LOL the sunghoon brainrot’s been hitting real hard lately

masterlist

There was a slight chance Sunghoon and you had crossed the boundaries you’d set when you first drew up your fake dating contract.

Okay, agreement would be a more accurate word choice since the document wasn’t legally binding, but the two of you took its contents very seriously. Together, you’d come up with a few mutually acceptable ground rules:

no kissing unless absolutely necessary

non-sexual acts of intimacy are acceptable in order to maintain the facade

keep arguments to a minimum no matter how insufferable the other person is being

no bed-sharing under any circumstances

no falling for park sunghoon even though he is the epitome of sexiness

The last condition was total bullshit, but you didn’t have it in you to make him get rid of it. Your mom had already done an excellent job at pissing you off; the last thing you wanted to do was get into it with Sunghoon.

One may wonder what caused the two of you to make this pact. Simply put, both your families desperately wanted to set you up with people you had no interest in dating.

(Not that you wanted to seek a romantic relationship with Sunghoon either, but we’ll get into that later.)

Lee Saerom had organised a cruise across the Mediterranean Sea on the occasion of her parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. Normally, your family wouldn’t have come within 10 feet of the Park family, but you were both good friends of the Lees and neither of you wanted to give the other the satisfaction of avoiding the trip.

Now that all the powerful and influential families of Seoul were gathered in the same place for a celebration spanning over a few weeks, your parents thought it would be a good idea to find you an ideal suitor who would help their company expand.

Word spread that you were seeing Lee Heeseung, the younger son of the Lees and heir apparent to their empire. The rumour was entirely false, but you had to admit it was a genius move on your parents’ part. Not only did it become harder for Heeseung and you to deny the allegations, but it made the Lees consider a future with your family’s business.

As if you weren’t in a shitload of mess already, the entire thing had somehow turned into a competition with the Parks beginning their own efforts to set Sunghoon up with Ning Yizhou.

The minor problem was that Heeseung and Yizhou were in love with each other, and neither of them had the courage to tell everyone the truth. They were both too afraid of disappointing their parents and bringing disgrace to their families.

You supposed it was a good thing Sunghoon and you had no such qualms. So, before things could escalate any further, the four of you got together and decided to put an end to this idiocy.

On the third night of the cruise, Sunghoon and you announced your relationship. Holding his hand and giving him lovey-dovey eyes felt ridiculous, but you would rather stomach fake dating him than see a wedge form between Heeseung and Yizhou.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked.

Yizhou even pretended to faint while Heeseung started sobbing hysterically. You couldn’t believe he actually pulled out a tear stick and applied it to the underside of his eyes when no one was looking. You wondered if he’d purchased it for this specific reason when you’d explored Turkey earlier that day.

Overall, it was a pretty convincing act.

The Lees and Nings were furious, but you weren’t particularly worried. In fact, you didn’t even care. Your parents had it coming their way the moment they dragged you into their scheming and plotting.

It took a few days for everyone to calm down and for the festivities to resume, but things pretty much went back to normal. Sunghoon and you both got tongue-lashings from your families, but they didn’t make you two break up.

Your reputations were already in the gutter; forcing you to end your relationship after all that had conspired would have been the cherry on top of your disaster of a cake.

The pre-decided course of action was to fake date Sunghoon till the cruise ended. Once you returned to your daily lives and enough time had passed, you would cook up a reason to break up.

It didn’t take long for your original plan to go to shit. As it turned out, spending a week pretending to love the bane of your existence had proved to be quite the opportunity to really get to know him.

Ever since you were a kid, you’d heard your parents say a lot of terrible things about the Parks. You’d been instructed to stay far away from Sunghoon. An impressionable and susceptible child such as yourself had obeyed every order they gave you.

You’d literally been hard-wired to despise and assume the worst of Sunghoon.

The wall of hatred you’d built between the two of you began coming down brick by brick once you learnt the kind of man he was. He was honourable and good and down-to-earth.

Of course, he was a dickhead to you for the same reason you were a bitch to him, but the asshole side of him was more endearing than annoying now.

His snarky replies no longer seemed to bite, and there was always an underlying film of adoration accompanying them.

Perhaps, he’d grown to care for you just as you had for him.

You certainly hoped that was the case, since regularly making out with someone who couldn’t be bothered with you wasn’t exactly your dream.

To this day, you had no idea how you’d ended up grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your mouth against his.

Maybe it was because he kept reminding you that you’d lost a bet to him and you wanted to shut him up, or maybe it was because he hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt and his abs were on full display, the ocean wind ruffling his messy hair.

Nonetheless, something seemed to snap in him when you made the move. He responded to your kiss immediately and pinned you against a wall. Thankfully, it was almost midnight and there was no one to witness your less than decent makeout session on the deck.

The next ten minutes consisted of his hands travelling under your loose shirt, fingers grazing the cold skin of your abdomen. Soon, your shirt was discarded, and your legs were wrapped around his waist.

Sunghoon hadn’t bothered stopping even when you ran out of breath. Instead, he’d taken the opportunity to leave bruises on your jaw and neck. The warm feeling of his tongue soothing the spots where he’d nipped at your skin with his teeth had caused you to experience a burning need for desire that went further than the second base.

The amount of reaction he’d gotten out of you was embarrassing. Never had you been unraveled by anyone so effortlessly. He had to muffle the whimpers that slipped past your lips as a result of his ministrations.

If it weren’t for the fact that you were making out in the open and were at the risk of being walked in on, things would have escalated. By the time you parted, Sunghoon’s lips were swollen, his face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

His eyes were hooded and dark, and he was gazing at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek, fetched your shirt from the ground and hurried away.

You didn’t even know why you thought things would go back to normal the next day.

One look at him, and your legs turned to jelly. You happily obliged when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and whisked you away from everyone else.

Soon enough, you’d breached almost all the conditions in your fake dating pact.

You spent most of your nights together—be it hooking up, lying in the comfort of each other’s arms or just talking till slumber claimed you. Never in your life had you imagined being at ease around Sunghoon.

Everything else faded away when you were with him. He made you feel yourself. He made you feel whole.

“Hey,” you murmured while you were both swimming in the pool one night, the stars shining brightly in the sky. His eyes were closed and his neck was tilted up, the back of his head resting on the decking behind. “Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon hummed and opened his eyes, turning his attention to you. “Yeah.”

“I know we have a plan,” you continued, doing your best to ignore the droplets clinging to his skin, “and I know that we’re supposed to stop pretending after this cruise ends tomorrow, but have you ever thought about making this—” you pointed at him, and then at yourself— “real.”

He laughed softly and shook his head in amusement. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not joking—”

“Every single day,” he interrupted you. Wading his way through the water to close the distance between your bodies, he repeated, “I have thought about making you mine every goddamn day.”

He cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered.

Taking a shuddering breath, you closed your eyes and felt him press his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and passionate, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It expressed what couldn’t be said using words, and you realised just how much you’d grown to admire and care for this man.

It physically pained you to consider the possibility of a life without him.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled against his mouth. “I would say I love you too but I don’t wanna breach the contract.”

He chuckled and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, even going as far as to suck on it. “I thought you broke the last rule days ago.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face. You opened your lids and shifted to get a better look at his expression.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shining with happiness, and you thought you could gaze into them forever. You thought you could witness the grin on his face and hear his honeyed laugh without ever getting tired. You thought you could stand ground against anything life threw at you if you had him by your side.

You knew you could love him and be loved by him for as long as your soul wandered through the worlds.

“I love you too.”

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure

My planned post – the “In Dedication of JVN” one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is – was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. There’s pictures?!

In truth, I thought we’d collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.

Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.

It’s funny because I’ve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, it’s because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that later…

So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.

I thought it would be fun to play a little game of “Choose Your Own Adventure” to determine if we’re ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.

Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).

Now, gather ‘round and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!

I’m sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you. 

On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Luke’s jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Luke’s scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too “Casual” when you’re headed down south (pun intended – as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where I’ll “insert disclaimer that this is speculation only.”

The following day, we had the actual premiere. I’m not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicola’s Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Luke’s mouth that day! “There’s a carriage downstairs.” “I mean, in this heat, all I’m thinking about is when we didn’t have to wear clothes ‘cos that would be quite nice right now.” “I mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].” With Nicola whispering back, “This is true.” Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because – God forbid! – she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, let’s not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that woman’s back (I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name and I’m too lazy to look it up – mainly, because I’m certain most of you don’t really care about that other woman).

We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each other’s company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Luke’s lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead – let your imagination run wild – it’s a great opening for a FanFic).

Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roan’s “Kaleidoscope” (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldn’t stop giggling about the “meat” of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicola’s answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Luke’s “Like, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?”). And, we can’t ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicola’s spoon after she’d sampled a dish. Don’t even get me started on over-analyzing Luke’s “manspread” that day.

Let’s also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade – because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.

Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each other in Brazil.

By themselves.

In one or the other’s room.

On the beach.

By the pool.

There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.

The only evidence we have of any “alone time” are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.

Now that the backdrop has been set, let’s go on my little adventure.

During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

If you don’t know what a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.

Here we go.

As the protagonist of our story, you are:

THE EMPLOYEE

You’re an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesn’t matter – you’re all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotel’s guests. But, in this story, let’s say you’re the housekeeper because – what’s that old saying – the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?

You’re cleaning Nicola’s room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As you’re leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway – headed straight towards the room you’re just leaving!  It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?

Choice A: Well, you’re a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they don’t even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you can’t keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends can’t keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. You’re meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.

Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you don’t have “receipts.”

THE VIP GUEST

You’re a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, you’re a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. You’ve seen so many at this point, you don’t even bother to read them.

You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, you’re confronted with – goddammit, there’s two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the woman’s dress is so awkwardly large, he can’t seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?

Choice A: You can’t believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didn’t even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you can’t control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie – but only until you’ve had your morning coffee.

Choice B: You take people’s privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you don’t take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. You’ll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.

THE RANDOM STRANGER

You’re a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. It’s so peaceful…the sound of the waves… Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like – shit, it is! – two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute – is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!

Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You can’t believe this! How long have you been filming?  Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Who’s this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides.  Asshole.  You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, “No.” Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.

Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you don’t look suspicious at all, even though you’re practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, you’ve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Luke’s teams? But, hell, you don’t even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell me….

The End.

Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones don’t even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?

If we’re being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they aren’t?

That the pictures probably don’t exist. Don’t shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!

But, let’s say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups – for example, a random stranger – (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didn’t drop them on social media, and/or (c) didn’t share them with someone who dropped them on social media?

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.

Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.

Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.

If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicola’s team (of lawyers). So, unless they’re going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, it’s been known to happen), you’re probably never going to see them – and that’s assuming they even exist.

However, if you’re the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs you’re just dying to share, just find yourself a printer – one that cannot easily be linked back to you – and print them out. Then, “accidently” drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friend’s brother’s sister-in-law’s third cousin’s wife’s neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.

[uchihaharlot]

Yandere Uchihas with an innocent S/O who doesn't know that he wants to baby trap the S/O.

I think that when an Uchiha wants to get you pregnant… there’s really nothing in the way of stopping them, that being said.

NSFW; Uchiha’s pumping you full of their hot sticky baby batter; Madara breeding; Obito ignorantly blissed; Shisui manipulation; Itachi sexual coercion.

Madara:

lol. This ain’t a baby trap for him. Your body was designed to specifically carry his offspring. Plus it’s the Warring States Era… everyone was fucking without protection. And that includes when Madara has you bunched up beneath him.

He’s not really shy about this either. While sex talk is hot as hell, Madara makes no laughing joke about how fucked out and stuffed full of his genes and babies you’ll be. You’re the perfect woman and you need to be his flesh light. His baby factory, so to speak. Bred until you can hardly breath.

And ma’am, he’s rough when fucking your overly used cunt. Day after day of incessant breeding, him hitting it all the way to your cervix when he cums to make sure his swimmers are close as close gets to your womb. Excellent thing you’re a good little girl and take it all night. The sheets get changed regularly since you have about six or eight loads pumped into you and each load gets fucked out as the other is pumped in. It also takes Madara a looong time to cum inside of you, so you’re basically cumming several times, prepping his cock to empty itself. He just really enjoys seeing how overstimulated you get and how that pussy massages his cock dry. ‘Just a bit more little bird…’ And it sounds so sweet to your exhausted self, but he’s so menacing when it comes to it.

Obito:

I hate to say this but if there were ever an unfortunate enough Uchiha to get baby trapped…. It’s this man here. Our poor Obito is a bit too trusting and a little dense at times. But like, sex feels so so good and he’s touched starved. So when you sit on his fat cock for the first time and fuck him stupid. Any and all sexual education he did have, is wiped free from his mind. You just feel so good in his lap, so wet and warm on his aching length. Especially when you own him this way, Obito can’t think.

Tobi, is a good boi. And if you tell him that, he’s gonna burst fast and heavy in your plush velvety walls without a care. It’s just feels so damn good for Obito to actually cum inside of you, and since he’s rarely sticking his cock often in anyone. He won’t feel the slightest bit nervous when you joke about wanting a little Uchiha in you because, well, it’s hot as fuck. So as many times as you want, he’ll coat your insides until gravity works against his cum and it drips out of you as you ride him through each of his and your orgasms. Which it’s safe to say that if you’re cumming, he is too.

Shisui:

He didn’t really want to do this to you. I mean, yes he wants everyone to see that cute belly of yours cradling his Uchiha baby but also… he knows you’re not entirely ready. So Kotoamatsukami for you, miss. You are none the wiser since Shisui doesn’t even need to look you in the eye while using his ultimate technique. This is a very egregious act and an abuse of power. Shisui justifies it because you have talked about children of your own. Just not making them yet. Shisui, I think, has a heavy conscience over it but when you’re whining for him to fuck a baby in you because your mind has been inundated with thoughts of his hot cum. It’s a non issue in that moment.

Palms splayed all over your stomach when you both cum. Admiring the flat of your stomach and visualizing how plump and delicious you’ll look with his growing seed. Holding your hips roughly when you squirm from being so taut and full of his cock pumping you raw and full.

You just look so sexy like this. Begging him for an Uchiha baby, even if it is manipulative, Shisui is in heaven. ‘Please, Shisui…’ is your vocabulary for the next few hours. This is his passion now. Shisui gets really into filling your soft hole with his seed, very desperate soft whines each time he cums inside of you. That much closer to his goal . If you end up squiring on him, well that’s another two loads to make up for the one you washed out. ‘Tisk, there goes all my hard work, baby. You need more now…’ Gods, his sex out voice is so low and hoarse too 🥵

Itachi:

Any sort of insolence on your side about having his baby is just ending with you tossed into Tsukuyomi. You should have agreed with this man from the get go. Though you might think this is a safe zone for acting out his deplorable behavior. He will fuck you into submission until your willing and eager for it. Just throws you in there and locks the key until he is done. Fucking you senseless until you are in agreeance of him cramming your insides with a baby. It takes only three seconds for him to coerce you from an outside perspective, but yet it’s been nearly a lifetime in there for you.

Consider yourself more fortunate with his good graces if you end up in this situation, agreeing and whatnot. Itachi is persistent when it comes to actually making sure you fall pregnant. Though he doesn’t believe that the more loads of cum you take in a single session actually makes a difference. He will breed you for the novelty of it. It’s just been one of those things whispered in the shadows and plus. It feels so damn good having you whining underneath him this way and hey, yea. Baby making sex is hot as hell. So you really are wanting this. Itachi is typically a soft lover. Very sensual, but like this? Now you know why he was so desperate for your cooperation. The man is insatiable and ends up cumming several times over, especially when he sees how into it you are. How quick you climax the first time he raws you. 🫠

[jjungxkook]

blackout (halloween drabble) | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: est rel, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: really just the tiniest hint of angst, but otherwise just crack and fluff I think, spooky szn, he's the Joker and she's Harley Quinn, lame college party, the gang is there, forest stuff, reader is a bit sad and disappointed in jk but he redeems himself!, kissing, sexy times, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, jerking off, fingering, sex in a janitor's closet haha, ass love, and yeah!!

⇥ wc: 5.4k!

⇥ author’s notes: happy early halloween! I will be busy next week, so I thought I could post this one already. also, since it's been one! damn!! year!!! since I dropped anything at all (sry!!). I promise Encore is on its way, so enjoy this in the meantime. very unedited and I started it just yesterday, so pls no hate haha okay that's it!! love you!!!

⇥ summary: Jungkook and you seek a carefree and calm Halloween this year, until it turns into this… nightmare.

–

Jungkook’s make up is smudged beyond repair… And you strongly guess you aren’t faring any better.

Your costumes are basic to their core. In the past hour alone, you’ve seen half a dozen of you. Jungkook rubs at the eyeshadow above the apple of his cheek, smearing the black some more.

He looks like the Joker at the end of his mental capacity. A worse mess than DC’s character already is. Only, Jungkook is still rocking the look – one damn kink of yours if you had a specific one. It’s the loosened tie… the purple coat–

You feel at home in your own role. Sporting the peroxide blonde hair, tied in two tails, one ending in a faded blue, and the other in a dim pink. You purchased colored hair sprays just for today, but can’t wait to wash the chemicals out of your hair.

Jungkook ruined one of the pigtails approximately an hour ago, and it hasn’t recovered since then, no matter how hard you tried to fix it. In truth, you didn’t mind the tugging at that moment anyway.

How could you? Not with the endorphins pumping through you at lightspeed, enhanced by the darkness around you at that stupid college party.

The student representatives organized this year’s big fete, though they must have forgotten to add the fun factor to it. Because the party was lame: the bar was filled with students from various departments, but most of them remained either sober or wound up broke.

Because the drinks were painfully expensive. The numbers on your bills spooked through your mind when you looked at the price, further frustrated when you realized that they weren’t selling much more than dry, small pizza and flavorless toast.

Once again, for an outrageous price.

Halfway through, the two of you snuck to a bathroom, relying on each other’s company alone. But the toilet cabinets were either taken or unspeakably disgusting – so in the rush, you settled for the pitch dark janitor’s closet instead.

You could barely see his silhouette in there, half sober, but not quite acting like it. Intoxicated by how he suckled on your neck, more a vampire than the Joker. Or by how he probably bruised your thighs, your shorts and tights down to your knees, much like his green pants.

You remember the whispers in the dark. The quiet “Wanna pound you into the mattress” and the “We should really go home.” Accompanied by the way he rubbed his cock against your stomach, body inches from you as his fingers dug into your pussy.

But you wouldn’t make it home yet, because his movements were too rapid to stop. The tears pricking your eyes too prominent. The hand around your neck wouldn’t stop pressing in, and you were firmly fixated on jerking him off to the end.

There was no way you were going to go home yet.

When he kissed you, you could taste both your lipsticks on your tongues. And then, cheek against the wall, ass out as he slammed his thick cock into your tight space, you tasted all the spice and sweetness he could offer.

God, a fucking man starved.

You still feel how his thighs held yours together, and your ass cheeks still burn from the palm and nails scratching, slapping, squeezing the flesh…

You tried your best to fix your make up afterwards, but you looked like modern art in the worst way, eyeliner and mascara dry on your face. The Joker’s cheek scars reach to his ears now. And as you look at him now, you still shiver.

His sweat-soaked mane hasn’t fully dried yet, a bit longer than weeks ago. Gives him that wet-hair look you usually enjoy after his showers. And behind the collar of his dress shirt, you still catch a glimpse of the lipstick print he wanted before you went out.

“Here,” he’d said, pointing to his thick, bare neck, adorned by a vein, “I’ll even open a button of my shirt just for this.”

And you were absolutely ready to mark your territory – it seemed he was just as enthusiastic about it. That is, before you forgot and then rectified your mistake in that bar bathroom. He can flex it now after all…

Anyway. Where were you again?

Right. The purple coat.

There’s something incredibly insane about how he’s draped it over his shoulder, both hands in the pockets of his pants. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his arms veiny and strong. A full lower lip is light red now; your make out session made the bright red fade.

And the goddamn black around his eyes… he could throw the mildest statement at you, and you’d probably still be intimidated.

Could almost distract you from why you refused to give that neck kiss in the first place. Or why you were veiling your true mood.

“What are we gonna do now?” Jungkook asks, nudging your elbow.

“What do you mean? You’re not tired?”

But you understand the idiocy of your question the moment it tumbles out – you’re asking the wrong man. This guy, you have well noticed, does not sleep until late in the night. And a healthy sleep schedule becomes even more of a foreign concept on holidays.

So you’re not surprised when he blows a raspberry and almost mockingly responds, “It’s not even midnight.”

“That’s late, Jungkook,” you still try.

“Not on Halloween.” Yeah. Just what you thought. “Besides, we need to wait for the witching hour. Wanna see the ghosts come out and whatnot.”

You laugh, the scolding hidden behind the smile. “Kook…”

“We could play Uno again!” He suggests, but you instantly scrunch up your nose. Most of the time, he wins – it’s probably why he enjoys it so much. But his next idea is worse. “Or Until Dawn.”

“No way,” you shoot. “You know what’s gonna happen, right?”

Judging the conniving smirk, more daunting with the eerie make up on, you guess he knows very well. He must remember last Halloween as well as you do.

Back when you let him convince you into watching Silent Hill with him, you were already at the edge, but – the sudden knocks at your door and impatient ringing of your bell didn’t help.

You jumped in place, accidentally kicking his shin and nearly knocking over the popcorn. You shed an immediate tear, convinced your heart was going to give out. Jungkook, between the cries of ache, was chuckling, and soon holding your head to his heart.

The cursing against his chest is cemented in your mind; you remember that he turned the movie off for you and switched to something tamer on Disney+.

“We’re together now, Pumpkin,” he tries to argue. “I’ll kiss your fears away.”

You’ll admit, you like the tone of it. It hasn’t been very long, so any term concerning your togetherness covers your skin in chills. And considering how it’s Halloween, the nickname gains just a bit more warmth, too.

But you stay resolute, dodging his constant nudging as you repeat, “No way!”

Your words stop Jungkook in his tracks. The laugh disappears and even his eyes change. Maybe you came off too strong, because behind the mask of the Joker, he looks insecure and taken aback.

“Are you… Okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You pull down the crop top under your open jacket, clearing your throat when the movement forces his eyes to your chest, right where the shirt stretches over your tits. Folding your arms in front of your torso, you raise your chin in the confidence that’s barely there.

You lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You’re acting like you were before we left. Then you were okay at the party.” He points into a random direction, presumably the one you came from. You don’t know how many turns you took since then, but you’re near the woods now. “Now you’re not anymore again.”

“I’m fine!”

Oops. Too strong again. Maybe the built up frustration and disappointment aren’t gone after all. You thought the evening might change something – apparently not.

Once again, he asks, “Are you sure?”

You stay silent. Look away, haphazardly across the street. The street lamps illuminate the dark path, covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Has a real Halloween feel to it.

You watch ghosts stroll past you. Some of the students on campus still carry a young, tender spirit, cutting holes in thin blankets to drape them over their bodies. It makes you smile.

But then you look back at Jungkook and immediately wish you had a cloth hiding your true emotions, too. Because when his eyes pierce those dejected holes into your body, you finally cave in.

“You… you know that I was top of my class, right?” You avert your stare, but then decide to focus on his chin instead. “Mr Kim liked my paper so much that he even offered that I join his research? And he’s like, very cherished in the Sociology community?”

Aside from the wind, nature and the world go quiet for a second, just when you do, but then you say, “So it’s a huge opportuni–”

“I know… You told me.”

Oh. So he remembers.

“So I told you,” your voice is quieter now, “and you just… didn’t seem to care? You haven’t spoken about it or asked even once. Not even what the research is on.”

Like a parrot, he repeats, “I know. I… I got busy with my own exams and…”

He stops midway and you wait. Maybe there’s more to come… Or maybe not. He doesn’t budge. You feel your heart drop… You assumed he had forgotten or that you might’ve hallucinated telling him about it. 

But the fact that he remembers, yet doesn’t have it in him to care hurts.

You swallow hard and then sigh, unable to say much more than you already have. He, yet again, purls, “I’m sorry.”

How shitty.

You’ve always helped him with his assignment, each time he needed any aid. He reciprocated it, no doubt, but. Now that you think about it, he distanced himself the moment you got this news and forwarded it to him.

You feel horrible. If you physically could, if you weren’t frozen in place, you’d pour out your heart to him. But all you know is that your mood has dropped to the Earth’s core, your mouth barely open when–

A rough tug pulls you away from Jungkook’s body. You stumble, almost tripping over your own feet, and yelp. There’s no way to still catch your bag mid-air, because whatever culprit snatched it off your shoulder, is already running away.

And into the dense forest. Fuck.

You use all your throat’s might to scream your lungs out, screeching at the perpetrator, “What the fuck!!”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells in kind, following right behind you the moment you start to sprint.

The asphalt is easier to tackle than the forest, though. The ground is soft, still a little damp from the rain of the last days. And the white-black-red Harley Quinn boots with their thick heels do not help.

You chase the figure – he’s tall, a bit too fast for you. Wearing a mask that you’re sure was… green?

You swear and pant when he picks up on pace, and throw more insults into his direction when he takes a sharp, sudden right. Jungkook jogs past you when you look over your shoulder for him, instructing quickly, “I’ll trap him from the left!”

And then, he’s gone. No. What?

“No, I– you can’t leave me alone!” Nothing comes back. Shit, your boyfriend wants you dead. “Fuck.”

With a shake of your head and a deep inhale of a breath, you move. Perhaps you’re too late, because by now, you don’t hear any steps anymore. You don’t know how far behind that thief left you, but as you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, you halt.

You can’t see anyone anymore. Not the guy. Not Jungkook.

And it’s so uncannily quiet. Dark. The leaves rustle, but only when the breeze blows through them. You search the spot, but there’s truly nobody and nothing; not even a goddamn squirrel.

You call for Jungkook, but don’t receive an answer back.

Where did he go? Did he catch the jerk? It must’ve been a Shrek mask. Of all fucking things. And why do they always run into a forest anyway?

No matter. At least you’ll be able to describe him to the police.

You suck in a breath, leaning down, hands over your knees. Out of air, you groan as your lungs burn. But then you get up, swallowing and sniffling, scared as you whisper to yourself, “The phone…”

You fish it out of your shorts – Hallelujah to whoever created this costume, because they’re a whole lot better than the pocketless jeans in your closet. If you’d put the device in your bag, you’d be screwed properly.

Activating the flashlight, you turn in a slow circle. In the silence, only broken by grasshoppers and other chirping animals, you hear your heart pounding in your ears. A shaking hand holds your phone as you look around.

And right when you’re already through the 360 turn–

Fingers wrap around the hand clutching the phone, definitely not yours. There’s a call of your name, but you barely take the voice in, flinching and screaming in place. Has your voice ever sounded this high pitched?

Ready to throw your phone at him and roundhouse kick the stranger, you lift a leg, but he immediately grabs your wrist in a familiar gesture. Turns the light to his face, squinting at its intensity, and eventually, you realize that…

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spit.

“I was looking for you!” Jungkook answers, lowering the phone. “I didn’t find him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t either! But fuck, why…” You still can’t breathe properly. A hand moves to your chest. “Why did you scare me so much, I–”

Your limbs are trembling, knees attempting to force you down to the ground. But you hold yourself steady, anger growing bloody red inside you. It bubbles and simmers, and when he doesn’t respond, you almost snarl.

You push at his chest, eyes damp. You want to throw more shit at him, even though he’s not at fault – and once you realize, you calm down just a little. The forest is still around you, and you’re still not out of it by far.

Yet, you feel at ease. Because he’s here. Because he’s standing there, in the middle of the night, at fucking Halloween where you could run into any insane axe murderer.

But when you understand where the comfort is coming from, your heart slows down, still beating in your stomach, but at a more normal pace now.

“Fuck,” you whisper once again, and then stumble forward and into his arms.

He cradles you with the fragility of a glass doll. But the squeezes he provides offer warmth your chilled soul craves on this autumn night. Hushed, you hear him speak, “Baby, I…”

His words drip with hesitation and… guilt even. Wrong timing; you can’t dwell on the uncertainty now. Still sniffling, quivering, you press against his chest again. Softer this time, yet unyielding, you demand, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No–”

“Honestly, I should’ve just… Congratulated you.”

Wrong timing indeed. He’s agonizing over something that you aren’t bothered with. Not right now, at least. But you heard it so clearly in the timbre of his voice – that he didn’t mean the jump scare. You let him continue.

“I worked so hard on my stuff, too, and then got jealous. Which is absolutely not a good boyfriend treat to have.”

“Kook–”

There’s turmoil in his words. Ugh, what’s going on?

“I’m genuinely thrilled for you. And I–”

There’s an entire conversation to have, you’re sure. But the timing. The fucking timing!

He wants to unveil more, but then something happens. A flicker in your peripheral vision alerts you of a movement, and when you turn your head, you see the same mysterious figure lurking in the shadows.

God, he’s insane. Your guts twist.

Was he eavesdropping all along, or was he simply hiding, trying to remain invisible, inexplicably unwilling to flee? Why did he not run before? This is odd. So chillingly odd.

Or maybe he was still nearby and trying not to make a sound…

You don’t know. And time is not a luxury you can’t afford for pondering such enigmas right now.

New adrenaline surges through you, different this time. The fear is clear, but the guy seems pathetic to a certain level – and if he’s so keen on roaming around, you’ll make sure he stays right in your proximity.

So you listen to the hammering of your heart, and without a second thought, you dash towards the stranger who appears equally startled and disoriented. You feel like a charging bull, closing the distance at an astonishing pace.

That’s what they probably mean when they speak about mothers being able to lift cars for their kids, because you feel invincible. Your shoes may not be designed for such a pursuit, and you’re certainly not as hardcore as Harley Quinn, but they lose against your determination.

The trees blur around you as you relentlessly chase the intruder, only clearing in your vision when you finally catch up with him. Jungkook might be behind you, but you choose not to look behind you this time.

Instead, you yell a battle cry, growling through your teeth, “Don’t you fucking–”

But that’s all before you tackle him to the ground. You expect a fight, expect his slim limbs to fling around, but he barely moves. He lets you push him onto the fallen leaves, and the only glimpse of any sound by him that you catch is a weird voice crack.

“Fu–” Is all you notice, but you can’t analyze the voice before Jungkook is helping you up again. 

You protest, but still get to your feet, watching Jungkook pull the man up harshly. He says to you, “You caught him.”

“Guess so.”

You take another breath, jaw clenched when you move to the stumbling thief and attempt to take the mask off. Shrek, as you said. You can’t quite say whether that night is terrifying or absurd. Probably both.

But the guy fights your try, suddenly mute again, but not resisting when Jungkook pulls at his arm and starts leading him somewhere. What? 

“Where are you going?” You ask, confusion sitting in the valley between your eyebrows. “Let’s go back and call the police, Jungkook.”

“There’s gotta be an opening. Keep going, I just need light to see his face.”

“I have a phone. Jungkook, sto–”

Seems like a very risky moment to ignore you, but Jungkook moves forward with determination. But it’s strange how he isn’t looking around. Never searching his surroundings, as if he already has a certain target in mind.

Now, you’ll admit that his sense of direction is unerring on any other day, too, but this is…

“I swear, you’re gonna kill us both,” you hiss, reflexively lowering your voice in the darkness. The masked mugger is grunting too much to hear you anyway, but you guess that affects Jungkook’s senses, too.

He just won’t stop. At least, until you reach a tiny clearing.

You don’t know how deep in the forest you are, because you can’t see the moon from here. The stars are the mere source of light here, albeit barely enough to illuminate the other bodies standing on the opposite side of the dimly lit space.

Wait. More people? Here?

What the hell.

Their faces, obscured by shadows, are unmoving. You ready yourself for an apology – maybe you interrupted some weird get-together. A shady ritual executed by some secret college club.

But as you strain to discern their features, a gradual realization dawns upon you. One of them steps forward, his features partially hidden, and one or two other familiar friends from your classes occupy the periphery.

It’s Jin. Also Jimin – a guy you and Jungkook met during one of your study sessions. Taehyung introduced him to your group. And the pursuit takes on an even more bewildering turn when you look at Jungkook and see that he’s no longer clutching the robber.

The man is standing there in silence, massaging the back of his head. Seemingly unperturbed. Perplexed and still out of breath, you utter, “What in the world?”

You shake your head, eyes deeply furrowed. You close the distance between you and the confusing figure, snatch your bag from him and finally shed the mask that conceals his identity.

And then, you see it. The unexpected face behind the bizarre charade.

“Taehyung?” You exclaim.

Jungkook, having caught his breath faster than you, mimics your incredulous tone, “Taehyung, what the hell?”

Oh. So he’s just as confused. The man in question glances over to his friend, his expression one of sheer frustration as he grumbles another very puzzling statement.

“Jeon, I will kill you.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters back.

Or… not? Huh?

You’re speechless. Out of movements and words, you keep your feet planted on your spot, blinking as you wait for someone to explain. But they’re not even looking at you, so you seek clear clarification.

“What’s going on here?” You ask.

Jungkook’s half-smile agitates you more than it should. Why the heck is he smiling?! But you breathe in through the nose, hoping for the forest’s scent to calm your nerves.

“Well,” he admits, “I guess I owe him one. ‘Cuz you were not supposed to tackle him.”

“Right!” Taehyung concurs.

“And you were not supposed to disappear!” Jungkook chimes in, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. His voice is tinged with reproach. “You…”

“Guys,” you interject. What the fuck.

Jungkook sighs, full attention on you. You try your hardest to not look at the creepy crowd to your left, friends and acquaintances standing there as if they’re about to sacrifice you to a demon.

“He was supposed to lead you here, but somehow we didn’t manage to pull it through,” Jungkook says.

His words leave you pondering. You have not the darndest clue about what’s going on. So you ask, “We?”

“Your…” The assembled group draws near, a few of your friends holding various items. “Your paper.”

Huh…

They’re carrying indiscernible things. And a pie, and…

“Of course I remembered your paper, baby,” Jungkook declares.

Oh, wait. Is that what you think it is? Because if it is, then your instincts were entirely wrong today. Or the entire time since you received the news. Maybe you were just so out of your mind because of the general Halloween atmosphere?

What were you expecting… An axe murderer for real? Dammit…

No. It was much more obvious, yet impossible to figure out. This man. This man!

A wave of relief washes over you as you process his words. You think that now, you even understand what they’re all holding. Or what it’s for…

“So you weren’t…” You start.

You drift off, watching Jungkook shake his head. His response is heartfelt, his love and pride evident. He looks at you with infinite sweetness; but a lot of guilt, too.

“Jealous?” He finishes. “I’d be crazy to be. You’re part of me.”

His blinking is soft and the tongue licking his red lips shiny in the extremely faint starlight. You know he isn’t done yet, so you wait… Focus on the tingle on your skin.

“You are part of me,” he says again, “so I’ll celebrate any achievement of yours like it’s mine. And this was… is a huge fucking thing to happen for you.”

You feel your head tilt and the muscles in your face relax. Your lips move to a smile, parted to give way to the longest sigh known to humankind. But if you indulged in the cheesy interaction now, your friends would remind you of it every game night.

Which is why you get yourself together, postponing the screeching and second tackling to later when you’re alone again. You shake off some of the weakness he causes every day, and give into the urge to nudge teasingly.

“You’re such a jerk for scaring me like that.”

A playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, as typical as can be. “I needed to make it Halloween-themed, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, but you know I had to.”

Your initial scolding turns into a loving retort, “I hate you.”

But the banter is short-lived as you lose against the surge of emotions, your hand moving to push him lightly once again before immediately lifting to his collar. You capture it, pulling him close to you until his wide eyes close and your lips collide.

In the background, you hear an instant chorus of “Aww”s, but grunts, too. Among the cooing, you hear a mumbled speech about how you need to get a room, but you only react with a smile against his mouth. You kiss him deeper, tongues gently intermingling.

And just when the hand holding the back of your head slips to your lower back, pressing you into him, the shiver becomes unbearable. Emotions shoot through your body and down between your legs – so you stop.

For a couple seconds longer, you look at whatever you can see from his eyes in the dark, flashing a smile. He rounds his lips and releases air through them, a temptingly silent way to let you know that you affected him.

You ignore it for your mentality’s sake, moving away from him to look at your friends. You cough and gesture to the objects in their hands, asking, “What’s all this about?”

If you could see them, you’d probably see a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. Jin at least sounds like it as he beckons you closer with a nod, ready to reveal whatever they’ve orchestrated for you.

You already expected the answer to your question, but the wrapping confirms your assumption. Gifts. Quite a few of them, bigger and smaller. As you move from one to the other, they announce the objects before you’re able to rip the paper off.

A friend gifts you a Swarovski Crystalline pen for your “Super fancy notes as you do your super fancy research.” Reflects their support for your scholarly pursuits, you guess.

Jimin surprises you with an exclusive album by your favourite group. Then, a little plushie to destress whenever you need, along with a college survival guide and “Sociology for Dummies” – all by Jin. Of course.

And lastly, a Lord of the Rings Lego set that you’ve desired for super long, a group effort. It’s a labor of love, for sure. A collective endeavor by friends who united to make your dreams come true – but honestly, who scared you to death, too.

You don’t know how you make it out of the forest again, still reprimanding Taehyung and Jungkook on your way out. Granted, you did get lost as a group once, and then found your beloved streetlamps again ten minutes later.

The treasures secured in a bag, Jungkook places them on your couch with a long and deep sigh once you arrive home, calming down from today’s hours. The night seemed endless. Wouldn’t finish – and you’re exhausted beyond measure.

But even through your falling eyelids, you manage one more expressive glance, pure disbelief hiding in your gaze as you say, “I absolutely didn’t expect any of this.”

Jungkook is a true mirror to you. Equally worn out, he lets his head fall a little, one hand still in the pocket of his pants. He looks ridiculously attractive, fatigue or not. Curls of his longer hair hang in his eyes as he rubs them, the smile gentle despite the sinister make up.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, voice low and quiet. “To be honest, I kinda felt bad halfway through.”

Ah. Explains the guilty eyes and voice. The way he attempted to apologize and grew all shy and quiet before you threw Taehyung to the ground.

“Don’t. The plan almost worked, and my heartbeat is still intact.” You laugh, punching his arm lightly. “But… Don’t do shit like that again next year.”

“I can’t promise it. You know that.”

You roll your eyes, watching him try to walk away – and you might not have held him back and grasped the dress shirt at the elbow if…

Is that the window creaking?

You gasp, still more on the edge than you expected, and throw a peek over your shoulder. You moved a couple weeks ago – there’s no way your place is already making these sounds. Or maybe that’s the reason after all… You should get to renovating.

“Was that you, too?” You ask, leaning into him with a cocked eyebrow.

“It was not. How would I do that?” He promises. His words are accompanied by movements; he’s walking around the living room now, as if he’s looking for something. “I’m not a ghost. Just the Joker.”

“A sly one, though…”

You look to the window again as he crams around in the box under your table, and appropriate to the holiday, you detect a harmless raven, perched on the windowsill. The sight elicits a small chuckle – but you don’t hear a sound from Jungkook.

When you turn back to him, you understand why. He’s distracted, still crouching. Then he gets up with… An object in his hand. No, two. Not any you carried home just now, but much smaller, thinner. Paper?

Idly, he walks back to you, fingers adorned in tattooed letters holding two cards toward you. You look into his eyes, confused and seeking answers silently, but he only holds the objects closer to you, urging you to take them.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Read, and you’ll know.”

And when you oblige, you understand. Maybe the little celebration on the clearing didn’t quite end there. Because the inscription on the cards reveals that he put more thought into this than you knew.

The tiny party and group effort Lego set weren’t his only tokens of affection. The weekend getaway, resting in your hands and awaiting you next week, must be tonight’s finale. A prelude to the impending wave of tedious work. 

“As an escape. Even for just a moment,” Jungkook explains, reaching forward. His hand settles on your cheek and pulls your face up, meeting your eyes. “Just you and me.”

To bask in serenity and rejuvenation, is that it? Just you and him…

“Really?” You wonder, eyes knitted together, lips pouting. You’re drowning in fondness.

“I wanna give you all the relaxation you need, in any way. Big things ahead after that.”

“I’m… You didn’t ha–”

You only get this far, because his lips steal your breath and halt your speech midway. His hand cradles your face, the other arm slinging around your body. The grip holds you tight against him, the heels of your feet almost lifting off the floor.

The kiss won’t stop. Continues deeper. You’re careful to not crumple and crease the cards he gave you, but still wrap your arms around his neck, pushing harder into him. And the tongue… Fuck, this tongue…

When he moves back reluctantly to catch air, he’s panting; and your breath falls against his cheeks just as hot. Your lips are damp, craving more, and you draw closer, trying to feel all of him. The muscles, the embrace, the growing pleasure behind his pants and…

But he lets go, leaves you standing and dizzy. With a wink, he lightly pinches your cheek, thumb brushing against it and suggests, “I’ll head off to freshen up.”

But. No.

You’re not ready to let the moment slip away, no matter how tired you are. So you pull him back again, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you quietly utter a request.

“Don’t take it off just yet.” You say, seeing the way his eyes light up. He understands right away. “Clean up together?”

He smiles. Waits with his answer, busy gripping your wrist as gently as he can before he locks his fingers with yours. He starts pulling you into the direction of the bathroom at snail's pace, reaching to hold both your hands, walking backwards, and causes one last hour-long shiver for the night.

“I really do love every time we save up on water, you know?”

–

Let me know what you think!! Have a good Halloween, love you all and smooching you!!😘

[hyunsvngs]

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 - lee minho x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.1k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: alcohol, normalisation of getting very wasted, smut (specific smut warnings under the cut, again minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

a/n: part one of the fratboy series. fratboy lee minho has now taken over my entire brain, my heart, and also my life, so i hope you all enjoy. PLEASE feel free to stop by our askbox to chat to me abt him because truly, i am obsessed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, dirty talk, sexy mean minho, no seriously he’s mean, thigh riding, nipple play, begging, dumbification, degradation, penetration with a finger & dick simultaneously, talks about sex slaves (maybe only slightly serious), lovely aftercare

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When the opening notes of Half Moon by Dean met your ears, you couldn’t help but groan. You loved the song, but it signalled an incoming call that you’d been expecting all day. You flipped your phone over, confirming your suspicions; Jisung’s squishy cheeks flashed on your screen as his contact icon showed up.

“What do you want?” you asked as you answered the call, despite knowing very well what he wanted. 

At the beginning of the semester, your best friends had joined a fraternity, Sigma Kappa Zeta. It was an absolute dream - on paper at least. You didn’t have to commit to the endless fraternity obligations, which are often ridiculous and sometimes downright dangerous; although you still had regular invites to the blowout parties, owing to your connections to Felix and Jisung. You’d attended a few of these parties and enjoyed them thoroughly. Being pretty meant you got free booze, and what could be better than getting wasted for free, with two of your favourite people? While ogling their endless hoard of stupidly attractive friends, of course.

Your taste in men could be summarised as… unfortunate. You had an affinity for frat boys, the bigger and stupider the better. Muscular guys, with stupid goofy grins and sleeveless tees, bulging biceps and empty heads. Something about them really got you going, and it frustrated you to no end. But you loved to indulge yourself, and Felix and Jisung knew this all too well. And so, they were left baffled when you very quickly stopped attending these parties. Baffled, disappointed, and worst of all, persistent.

“Hey, angel,” Felix’s voice rang out from your speaker.

“You aren’t Jisung,” you stated.

“Very observant,” he responded, leading you to roll your eyes. You didn't even bother to question why he was calling you from Jisung’s phone. “Anyways, I assume you’ll be in attendance tonight?”

You snorted. “Obviously not.��� 

“Y/N!” Felix’s deep voice gave way to a drawn-out whine. “Why not?”

“Cause I don’t want to spend time in your disgusting frat house,” you huffed. 

“Not even for me?” he pleaded with you.

“This isn’t working. You can’t guilt-trip me when I can’t actually see your stupid adorable face,” you pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll turn my camera on-”

“No. Look, why don’t you and Ji come drink with me in my dorm? Like the good ol’ days?” you suggested. Good ol’ days referring to a few months ago, before they’d joined the fraternity.

Felix paused for a few moments. “Fine. Maybe. Only because we miss you!”

“Come over then. See you soon!” You hung up before he could argue any more - you all knew you’d won. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Just moments after Jisung and Felix showed up at your door, you began to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t win after all.

“Y/N!” Jisung cried, before proceeding to push past you and collapse onto your bed. “Why do you never hang out with us any more?!” 

You turned to Felix. “What have you brought to my doorstep?”

Felix shrugged. “He chugged like, three beers before we even left.”

"I guess we'd better catch up then." 

It wasn't long before you were all feeling merry, though it would be amiss to say you'd caught up with Jisung, given that he often seemed intoxicated even when he was sober.

"I miss you guys, too!" you insisted, hushing the boys' griping. And you really did miss them. Since classes had ended, and people had limited obligations, the frat seemed like a 24/7 party house at the moment, which meant you hardly ever saw them. "I just… these frat parties, it's not really my scene."

The look Felix sent you told you that he didn't buy it, not one bit. The look Jisung sent you, on the other hand, told you that he was currently so drunk that he had a very tenuous grasp on reality, and was just happy to be involved.

"I've seen you eye up at least three guys at the frat. Not your scene? Nothing has ever been more your scene," Felix said, his tone accusatory. "I know it's nothing to do with us. So spill. Why are you avoiding the frat?"

Jisung had wandered off to the other side of your room, where he seemed to be making a concoction of different beverages. He didn't seem to be making a mess, so you thought it best to leave him while he was quiet.

You huffed. "Fine. One of your stupid little frat bro's is driving me insane. But I won't say who!" you added hastily.

Felix's eyes glinted. "Driving you insane? In what way? Like, someone's pissed you off? Or they're making you insanely horny and you don't know how to handle it."

You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "You know me too well, Lix."

Felix laughed gleefully. "Changbin?"

"Don't start guessing! I'm not gonna tell you!"

"Chan?"

"No!"

Felix paused, thinking hard. "It's Minho."

"It’s not Minho!"

He cackled. "You're an open book, it's Minho! You're horny for Minho!"

You let out a weak whimper in protest. "I just… God, nobody's ever affected me like this before, Lix! I don't even wanna be around him 'cause I know I'll say something stupid. Or maybe just start drooling on him."

Felix shrugged. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a gorgeous guy."

"Understatement of the century," you scoffed. "If I had to choose between solving world hunger and sucking his dick, I'd choose his dick. A thousand times."

Felix, in that beautiful drunken phase where everything was utterly hilarious, was clutching his stomach, in complete stitches on your floor.

"I'm not even joking, Lix! I'd devote the rest of my life to being his sex slave. He wouldn't even need to feed me, I'll survive off his cum if I have to!"

Felix wiped a tear from his eye. "Stop, stop. You're killing me." He turned to Jisung, who was still apparently playing potions with various different drinks.

"And that," Jisung said to no one in particular, "Is how you make a Hanji Supreme."

"What the fuck are you doing, Ji? Are you vlogging over there? Get your ass over here and listen to what Y/N has to say about Lee Minho."

"Okay, bye!" Jisung said, still seemingly speaking to thin air. He turned to you, eyebrows raised. "Minho? Y/N has the hots for Minho?"

"Unfortunately," you confirmed.

"We could probably set you up with him," Jisung proposed, a dastardly grin on his face.

"No," you quickly denied. "Never. Under no circumstances do you ever mention my name in Minho's presence. Got it?"

Jisung pouted. "But then your dreams are never gonna come true!"

You chewed on your lip. "I feel like a stuttering mess whenever I even think about him. I can't imagine what'd happen if I actually spoke to him."

"Wait, you've never spoken to him?" Felix clarified, and you shook your head. He smirked. "You were saying some pretty vulgar stuff, considering he's practically a stranger."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a creep and a perv. That's why he can never find out about this. Seriously," you said sternly, directing this last part at Jisung. He wasn't exactly known for keeping secrets. 

Felix looked him up and down. "I don't think he's even going to remember this tomorrow, if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," you agreed. "He seems like he's done for the night." The boy was lying flat on his back, the brim of his beanie pulled over his eyes. His phone was buzzing away on his chest, notification tone pinging every few seconds.

Felix sighed. "I just hope he doesn't get one of those second winds."

“Jisung, honey, is someone trying to get hold of you?” you asked, the chiming of his phone growing irritating. You figured he’d texted one of his many booty calls and then instantly forgotten about it.

“Huh?” he asked, clearly not really listening.

Felix’s phone began to buzz on the floor. “Someone’s trying to get hold of me.” He brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, what’s up? He's - he's what?" Felix covered his other ear. "It's really loud over there, did you say he's on the table? Christ - okay, okay, we'll be right over." 

"What was that?" you asked. "Is everything okay?" 

Felix sighed. "Hyunjin's partying a little too hard. Seungmin can't deal with him alone. C'mon, we gotta go wrangle him."

"We just went over this - I'm not stepping foot in Minho's territory, not even for a second," you said adamantly. 

"Relax, he's partying with Theta Chi Theta tonight," Jisung slurred happily, sitting upright and fixing his beanie. "C'mon, Y/N, come party with us!"

Felix looked to you pleadingly. "I can't deal with drunk Jisung and drunk Hyunjin without you. Please."

Fuck. Felix knew you could never say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine."

Even with the knowledge that Minho was preoccupied somewhere else, you still felt a little wary as you stepped into the house. It did occur to you that you could be a little too terrified of this man, but you knew all too well that both your horniness and your stupidity were utterly limitless, which was always a recipe for disaster.

You heard Hyunjin before you saw him - "Why can't I get naked, though? It's so hot in here!" 

You snickered. He was still on the table, although he looked a little wobbly so you doubted it'd be too long until he came tumbling down. Jisung wandered off, probably up to no good, whilst you and Felix hurried over.

Seungmin breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw you. "So glad you're here. Okay, I'm off duty. Good luck." He had vanished within seconds. 

Hyunjin waved excitedly when he caught sight of you both. "Hi Lix! Hi Lix's pretty friend!" 

You laughed at his drunken boldness. "It's Y/N," you corrected him.

"I know." He grinned down at you from the table, eyes disappearing into crescents. "You're brave, too," he crooned.

"Brave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"If I was you, I probably wouldn't show my face around here until the end of the semester, at least," he went on.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin stared at Felix for a moment. Then switched his gaze to you. Then back to Felix. Before erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, please sit down before you fall and crack your damn skull," Felix pleaded with the boy.

"Yeah, and more importantly, explain yourself," you added. 

Hyunjin sat obediently, pulling out his phone and handing it to Felix. 

"Oh fuck," Felix breathed. "I have the group chat muted right now." 

"The group chat?" you enquired anxiously. "Please tell me what's going on." Your paranoia was getting the best of you, and while you stood waiting for someone to fucking explain, you were slowly convincing yourself that you'd stolen Felix's phone and confessed your attraction to Minho in the most crass and unrefined terms.

This wasn't too far from the truth.

Felix opened up a video, skipping towards the end. You noticed Jisung, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm room, chattering away about various beverages. More prominently, however, you heard your own voice, from the other side of the room. 

“I’ll survive off his cum if I have to!”

Your heart plummets to the ground as the memory comes rushing back. Fuck. 

You grab Felix’s arm, holding on for dear life. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me Jisung only sent that to Hyunjin and no one else.”

Felix handed the phone back to Hyunjin and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. “Look, it’s going to be okay. People say stupid shit like this all the time-”

“Oh look, Minho’s read the messages!” Hyunjin calls out.

You put a hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“He’s typing!”

“No!” you wailed.

Hyunjin turned his phone around once more. You peered at the screen in turmoil as three dastardly little letters popped up.

lol

"Oh, Y/N, you're so lucky he's not here tonight," Felix said, sounding relieved. Distantly, you felt a shred of relief too, although that was nothing compared to the complete and utter dread you were experiencing. Oh, the consequences of your own drunken, horny actions. Was there anything worse?

"Oh," Felix murmured, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Oh." 

"What?" you asked.

"He's calling me." 

You called out "Don't answer it!" just as Hyunjin yelled "Answer it!"

Felix accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Oh my god, I'm scared. Hold my hand." You scrambled for Hyunjin, who grasped your hand in his before giggling.

"Your hands are soft," he commented, apparently having forgotten the Minho debacle already. You swiftly hushed him.

Felix also raised a finger to his lips in a shh motion, before putting the call on speakerphone.

"Are you at the house? Is Y/N with you?" Minho’s voice came through the speaker.

Felix paused, looking at you with wide eyes. You shook your head furiously. 

"Uh, yeah," he answered, the traitor. You fought hard not to scream.

"Can you pass a message across?" you heard Minho ask.

"Sure."

"I'm on my way." The line clicked dead.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. “LEE FELIX WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL HIM I'M HERE?" 

"I DON'T KNOW, I PANICKED!" he shrieked back, sounding equally as alarmed as you.

“This is crazy,” Hyunjin commented with a dazed grin.

“You are far too drunk to understand the absolute catastrophe I’m in right now!” you accused him. “Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I need to go - immediately.”

“Not so fast.”

You spun around in complete and utter horror, terrified that Minho had somehow materialised from his other party right back to the frat. Only to find Seungmin standing before you - just slightly less threatening.

“Jisung is far too drunk, and he’s begging for you,” he explained.

“God, what is in the air tonight?” you observed. “Do you guys need to do a fraternity-wide detox?”

Seungmin snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen. Go on, Jisung’s in his room.” 

God fucking damn it, why were you such a good friend? You tore up the stairs, bee-lining for Jisung’s room, fully intending on hiding in his bedroom for the rest of the night. Minho wouldn’t find you in there if you locked the door, right? You were even willing to put up with your best friend’s snoring.

"Hey, Sungie," you said gently as you walked into his room. You found him curled on his bed, still dressed in his hoodie, cargos and beanie. 

"Y/N… You're finally here…" he mumbled.

"You sound sleepy. Is it bedtime?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him. You tugged the beanie off his head, and ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp gently. 

"Bedtime? Hmm… No… It's still party time for now." His words were slurred, and you knew he was just minutes from dozing off - seconds, maybe. 

"Sure," you said, as it was typically better to just agree with him. "You wanna get your pyjamas on? We can have a pyjama party."

"No. I'm comfy like this." You seriously doubted it, but didn't have it in you to battle him right now.

Sure enough, he was snoring less than thirty seconds later. You wondered if it was worth shoving him a bit, to climb in bed beside him, or whether it'd be best to just run home. But you didn't know how far away Minho was, and the thought of bumping into him was too much to bear. 

You deliberated for a few moments, but Jisung's snoring was driving you insane, and you quickly realised that you weren't equipped to deal with it tonight.

You pulled out your phone, opening Felix's contact.

[10:44pm] You: lixie do u have minho's location?

[10:44pm] You: lix please please please

[10:44pm] You: felix pls i need to know how far he is

You sat on the edge of Jisung's bed, leg bouncing with nerves. Why was Felix always muting his damn notifications?

[10:48pm] Lix: idk sorry :( i think his party was nearby though

[10:48pm] Lix: look, just run to my room

[10:49pm] Lix: you'll be safe there

You weighed up your options. 

Option one: stay here with Jisung, awake all night owing to his snoring and his complete domineering of 90% of the bed space, stressing about Lee fucking Minho.

Option two: run out of the frat house, and all the way home to safety, but risk bumping into Minho on your way out.

Option three: run down the hall to Felix's room, where you can vent to him all night and then eventually fall asleep with his sunshine cuddles.

It could only be option three.

His room was just down the hall, you reasoned. You would yank open the door, tear down the hallway, and land safely in Felix's bedroom. It would be easy. 

You took a deep breath, before pulling open the door and preparing to run.

“Ah. Look who it is.” 

Shit.

Minho stood in the hall with an unreadable expression. His eyes scanned your whole frame, and he took his time with his scalding gaze. His eyes crawled all the way up your legs, lingering up your thighs. Slowly moving from your hips, to your waist, to your chest. Before landing on your eyes - that’s where his inspection burned the most. You couldn’t even breathe. 

“All bark and no bite, hm?” 

“I… I just…” you stammered weakly.

He continued to stare at you, waiting for you to finish. “You just?”

“I’m sorry!” you managed, your voice barely above a squeak.

He folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. “What, pray tell, are you sorry for? For blabbing about my dick to anyone who’ll listen? Manners mean everything, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked me nicely. There was no reason to bring everyone into our business, now, was there?”

You simply blinked at him. You weren’t capable of anything more. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, smirking over at you expectantly. “W-What?” you managed eventually.

“Or are you apologising for your dirty mouth? Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you. You look so sweet, who knew you could be so… improper.”

You felt dizzy. “Improper?”

He pouted at you, and it was dripping with condescension. “Can you speak, darling? Or are you so cock-hungry you can’t manage more than a one-word answer?”

“I-I just don’t know what to say, is all,” you whispered.

“Just give me a yes or a no,” he invited you, holding his hand out for you to take.

You gave him a slow nod, placing your hand in his shakily. He smiled as if to say ‘right answer,’ before opening the door right next to Jisung's, and leading you into his bedroom. The room was remarkably neat and tidy, and you would’ve been impressed if you could even begin to process it. All of your mental energy was focused on not combusting - or coming on the spot. 

He allowed you to step into the room before closing the door behind you. You were then quickly pushed up against it, Minho pinning you against the wood with his hips. Had that squeal really just come from your mouth?

His eyes were transfixed on your lips. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, while he had you trapped there. Until this point, you really hadn't been sure whether he was angry at you for saying such explicit things about him. The look in his eyes revealed everything - he wanted you just as badly.

He leaned in slowly. Torturously slowly - evidently, he was going to take his time with you. His lips met yours in a gentle peck, which he repeated, again and again. You sighed against his lips, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer, but he merely smirked against your pout.

"Please," you breathed.

"You're so desperate," he said with a low laugh. "I could give you what you want, Y/N, but I know you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I can take it," you protested, your voice sounding much whinier than you wanted it to.

"You can?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at you condescendingly. You nodded insistently. "Okay."

Minho picked up the pace. His lips were soft but they bit at yours harshly. His tongue entered your mouth and you savoured his taste, sucking on his tongue gently.

Your hands went to the button of his jeans, swiftly unbuttoning it. Minho pulled away, stepping back and leaving you pouting once more. He laughed, that awful patronising sound yet again, that made your palms sweat and your thighs sticky. 

"What, you think you're gonna get my dick that easily?" he asked, cocking his head at you. "No, honey." 

"Please?" you asked. It sounded pitiful, even to you.

You watched as he went to his neatly made bed, tugging off jeans and laying back. "Come here," he instructed, lounging back against the wall. "Take your clothes off for me."

"T-Take my clothes off?" you asked meekly. It sounded pitiful even to your ears.

The look he gave you was scathing, although he did seem rather amused by the pathetic show of stupid desperation you were unfortunately displaying. "Well you can't expect to stay fully clothed if I'm gonna fuck you, right?"

You nodded, standing in front of him and looking down at your feet. "I… I feel shy all of a sudden."

"You feel shy? I don't know if you'd make such a good sex slave after all." He laughed before growing serious. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll look after you, if we do, but the choice is yours."

His kinder tone set you at ease, and made you realise that you really wanted this, you were ready for this. It also brought about the realisation that you much preferred it when he was mean. You didn't want to dwell on what that meant, though. 

You gathered your courage and slowly pulled your clothes off, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. Minho said nothing, but you felt as though you were on fire under his gaze. 

He wasn't the only one who was enjoying the view. Your eyes traversed his toned thighs, mouth watering as you thought about how it'd feel if he were to press one between your legs. He wore plain white briefs, and you couldn't help but stare at the prominent bulge inside them. Even semi-hard it looked huge. You noticed it twitch ever so slightly, as he looked over your exposed body.

Minho spread his legs slightly, before tapping his left thigh. "Come on, darling. I know what you want."

Was he a mind reader? You wasted no time, climbing onto the bed, straddling his thigh and beginning to slowly grind. He tensed it, so firm and strong beneath you. The perfect platform for you to drag your clit across. 

Minho's hands went to your waist, holding you gently, guiding you as you rolled your hips.

"That's it, baby, there you go," he encouraged you. The friction was enough to make you sweat, the pleasure overwhelming you. He was right - maybe you couldn't handle this. You couldn't even imagine how overwhelming it would be to actually feel his hands on you, feel his dick inside you. 

His dick.

You could see it growing harder in his briefs, a small damp circle near the head where precum had leaked. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer; your hand reached out almost involuntarily, cupping his bulge gently. It was firm, and warm, and growing bigger seemingly by the second.

Minho took your hand, instantly re-directing it. "No, no, don't touch. Not until I say you can."

"But I can see how hard you're getting," you said. "You want it, Minho!"

"Unlike you, I know how to restrain myself." He patted your waist gently. "Keep riding."

You gave a frustrated huff, but did as he said. 

Minho brought a slender finger down to your crotch, hooking it around the fabric of your underwear and moving it out of the way. "Let me see that pretty pussy," he murmured.

The new exposure made you moan aloud, hands gripping Minho's shoulders firmly as you rode him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Minho."

"Please, what? Use your words."

"Please fuck me," you asked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Hmm… No. Not yet."

You groaned. "I need it, though!"

Minho snickered. "Don't be such a brat. I want to take my time with you, okay?"

"You can take your time next time! Just - please - fuck, please, I need it."

He raised an eyebrow with you. "Oh, so there's gonna be a next time, is there?" 

You ignored his quip. If you couldn't get in his pants just yet, you'd focus your attention elsewhere. You lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his stomach, where you found lightly toned abs that only made you more desperate to feel him. Miraculously, he humoured you, pulling his shirt over his head.

You gasped, running your hands down his chest. He was beautiful, tight pecs and perfect little nipples that stood to attention in the open air of his bedroom. You ghosted a finger over one of them, entranced.

"I thought that'd shut you up," Minho commented under his breath.

"Beautiful tits," you muttered unintentionally as you admired his pecs.

Minho smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, angel." He placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He wasn't gentle about it, sucking and biting without holding back. You cried out, your hips pausing their grinding motions, your system completely overloaded by his harsh actions on your sensitive nipple.

"Keep riding," he mumbled, not even taking your nipple out of his mouth as he spoke. 

You dragged your clit across his muscular thigh, whimpering loudly as you went. "Oh god, please, Minho! I need you inside me." 

"Then beg for it."

You wasted no time. "Please, Minho, please, please! I need your cock, I've never needed anything this bad. I know I'm just a filthy little slut but please give me what I need, fuck, I'll die if you don't!" 

"You really are a filthy slut," he agreed, lifting you from his thigh and laying you on his bed. 

"Yes, yes, please Minho!" you babbled.

He pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely naked before him, before tugging his own briefs off. 

Holy fucking shit, you thought.

His dick was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it - fucking beautiful. It was long, with a vein running along the underside, and the girth was decent too. The head was thick, and red, and if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you would've sucked on it for hours. 

"I know you want it," Minho said. "But do you deserve it?" He stroked his dick slowly, and you watched as the head disappeared into his fist, emerging again as his hand ran along his shaft.

"I don't know, but I need it," you insisted. "I'll do anything." 

Minho shook his head, but he looked smug. "Alright, baby. If you need it that badly."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chattered, intoxicated by a dick that you hadn't even felt yet.

He pushed your knees up to your chest, and you hooked your arms around them, holding them in position and peering down to watch his motions. "Such a perfect pussy." He rubbed the head of his dick across your clit, and you whined loudly. Distantly, you wondered if the sounds of the frat party below would even be enough to drown out your incessant noises of pleasure. It was irrelevant, though; you didn't care enough to stop.

He dragged his dick through your folds, over your hole, back up to your clit. Minutes ago, you would've killed a man to have Minho touch your pussy, but already you wanted more. He made you so greedy. It felt good but your thirst for more was unbearable, intolerable.

"Alright, baby, are you ready?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

Slowly, he sunk the tip of his dick inside you - just the tip. Thick as it was, it slid in with hardly any protest. He sighed as it went in, clearly needing the sensation more than he let on.

"More," you pleaded.

"You'll take what I give you, when I'm ready to give you it." Minho saw you roll your eyes at this, but said nothing.

He pushed the head in and out of your hole, never putting more than two inches inside. 

"Please give me the whole thing, Minho!"

He simply shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to handle it. Dumb baby."

"I can handle it!" you insisted. "I swear I can!" 

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow that told you he was unconvinced. "You can?" You nodded. "You're gonna cry like a little baby." 

"Just give me your stupid dick right now!" 

Minho laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, baby. Here comes my stupid dick."

He held your legs down against your chest, and slammed his whole length inside you. You saw stars. He thrusted, hard and fast, and you were somewhat aware that you were moaning probably louder than you ever had before, but all you could truly focus on was his cock filling you up. He was hitting your g-spot on every single thrust, grunting as he fucked you.

"God, you're tight," he groaned. He re-positioned his hips, and somehow managed to hit deeper. You felt him against your cervix, and cried out in pain.

"Too much," you weakly protested as your eyes filled with tears. 

"I thought you could handle it?" he said, his voice lacking any sympathy. "Fucking pathetic, begging for a cock you couldn't even take." 

"I-I can, just not so deep."

Minho smirked down at you. "It's not my fault my dick's so big," he said, but adjusted his thrusts slightly anyway. 

"I can take it," you promised. "I-I can take anything you give me, Minho."

"That's right, baby. My filthy little whore." His voice was calm, but his eyebrows were furrowed and sweat was dripping down his forehead - the pleasure was overwhelming him just as much as it was destroying you. 

Minho leaned down, connecting his mouth to yours as he fucked you. You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but moan. His dick fucking your pussy, his tongue fucking your mouth. This was heaven, you were sure of it.

He pulled away. "You think you could take some more?" 

"More?" you asked, eyes wide. 

"Just a little more. For me?"

You nodded hesitantly.

Minho paused his thrusts, but before you could whine in protest, you felt his finger rubbing at your opening. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside, along with his dick. The painful stretch was incredible, and you whimpered at the feeling. 

"There you go, babe," he said, beginning to thrust once more. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. "Fuck, this is nice and tight."

You were barely even lucid at this point. You babbled incoherently, unaware of what you were even trying to say. You were completely and utterly spellbound by his dick, by the sweet burning stretch. 

"Touch yourself for me, baby," Minho directed you. 

"F-Fuck- I don't know if I can-"

"I thought you wanted to be my sex slave, hm? Pretty little slaves do as they're told." 

You whined, but obeyed his command. "M-Minho… I'm gonna cum if I keep going."

Minho barked out a laugh. "Cum then. I don't care. But don't take your fingers off that pussy, not even for a second."

You were beginning to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this. You hadn't even reached your climax yet, and already the overstimulation was too much. Your stretched out pussy was throbbing, and you jolted each time Minho's dick pounded your g-spot. You were drenched, covered in your own sweat as well as Minho's, which was dripping onto you from his hair, his forehead, his neck. The air in the room was thick, and smelled entirely of Minho - you were covered in him. He looked like a god above you, fucking into you like it was his life's mission.

It was too much for you to handle, without a doubt. And yet, you'd be happy to spend the rest of your life underneath him. Or on top of him. Or in any position which meant his dick could be inside you.

"Minho… Minho!" you whimpered.

"C'mon, baby," he encouraged you, his voice strained. From the sounds of it, he wasn't far from finishing either - although you got the sense he could keep going all night if he willed himself to. "Cum around my cock like the dirty little whore you are." 

That was all the prompting you needed.

Your ears started ringing. You let the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy wash over you, flooding Minho’s cock. You knew you were crying out maybe a bit too loudly - but you didn’t care, thrashing in Minho’s hold and grasping the bedsheets for dear life as he fucked you through it. He didn’t slow his pace, riding out your intense orgasm caused by the man of your dreams and making you feel as if you’d been set on fire.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Minho crooned, continuing to fuck you as he went after his own orgasm. You could only manage a high-pitched whine in response. "Just a little longer, baby, you can do it. Just lie there and let me use your tight little pussy, that's it." His voice was hoarse, and the veins on his neck were prominent. You knew he was going to cum soon, but you didn't know if you could hold on. You were over-sensitive to the point of pain, hands gripping Minho's bed sheets.

"Cum - give me your cum," you urged Minho. "Now, please."

His eyes widened. Your command had seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He pulled out of you, and you watched as thick ribbons of pearly white cum oozed onto your abdomen. You gasped gently as you watched. It was perhaps the most beautifully erotic thing you'd ever seen. His dick was definitely a contender for the prettiest one you'd ever fucked, and his cum was thick and heavy, dripping from the tip like a waterfall.

"Thank you," you whispered. He leaned in, kissing you deeply. He tasted like sweat, hot and sticky, and you moaned. 

He pulled away, before planting one more kiss on your forehead. "You're welcome."

Minho stood, going to the other side of his room. You tried to follow him with your eyes, but you felt so weak and tired that they slipped shut immediately. He returned seconds later, and you lay still, sighing as he cleaned you up. His touch was so gentle, so soothing, so different than it had been just minutes before.

"That better?" he asked, discarding the towel.

You nodded. "You want me to go crash with Felix?" you asked, unsure of what exactly this arrangement was.

"Nah, you reek of sex. Felix wouldn't want you." He helped you climb under the covers. "Plus, I wouldn't mind some company tonight." He slid into bed beside you, and you rolled over, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt incredibly safe secure, especially considering just how utterly terrified you'd been of this man a few hours ago.

You giggled softly, so tired and fucked out that you felt a little delirious. "Can't believe you fucked me, Minho."

Minho gave a short laugh. "Can't believe you convinced me to fuck you so easily. You're a little minx. I really wanted to play with you some more."

You nestled into his chest. "I guess there'll have to be a next time then, huh?" 

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you're lucky."

"You wanna fuck me again, Minho, I know you do," you mumbled. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came. You need my pussy."

Minho was silent for a few seconds. "You're awfully bold for someone who was crying on my cock ten minutes ago."

"...Yeah." 

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." No more than ten seconds later, you were sleeping in his arms. 

You slipped into the land of dreams, where you went on to fantasise about Minho - his thighs, his neck, his tummy, his hands. His kisses, his touches, his dick in your throat, in your holes. Minho everywhere. Were you completely insatiable? Maybe. But it seemed very likely that he'd give it to you again. In your sleep, you smiled.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TWO

You can read part one here. i'm so grateful for the positive response for this on the first chapter, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!! Things are already getting smutty, enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic), fingering, masturbation word count: 8.1k ao3

You're relieved the next morning when you look out your bedroom window and see your father's police car and your mother's SUV missing from the driveway. They've both already left for work, which means no twenty questions to answer when you go downstairs, no grilling you about what exactly you're going to be doing today. But it's not like you'd tell them the truth anyway.

You pick your outfit very carefully, shoving modest sweaters and long dresses aside as you search for something specific for Mr. Miller. You want him to look at you again like he did yesterday; the thought makes your thighs clench together again as you dig through the depths of your closet. You settle on an old Sunday School dress that you probably haven't worn since you had your final growth spurt, baby blue and simple. You undress and tug it over yourself, trying to ignore the way it tightens uncomfortably around your chest; it's much too small but you're running out of options.

"That's sexy, right?" you ask your silent bedroom, peering in the mirror at yourself. You were much shorter when you wore the dress last; now the hem settles on your upper thighs, leaving your legs completely exposed. It hugs your curves and accentuates your breasts, cleavage pushed up against the neckline so much that it feels like they could pop out at any moment.

You pick up a discarded pink hoodie and zip it on over the dress, hiding where you're practically bulging out of the material. Maybe you'll take it off later, but for now you don't need any of your neighbors reporting to your parents that they saw you walking down the street half naked.

You spend way too long getting ready, changing things about your hair and makeup over and over until you know you can't put off leaving anymore. You grab a quick bowl of cereal and then, with a resigned look of determination, you swap your flip flops with sneakers and head out into the hot summer day.

Not too many people are outside yet; parents have already left for work, kids are still sleeping, dogs have already been walked. You make it to Mr. Miller's without having to say an awkward hello to anybody, for which you're grateful.

He's not sitting on the step when you get there and for some reason it stops you in your tracks, leaving you standing at the end of his walkway like you had yesterday.

What if he's at work, you dumbass?

You hadn't factored in the possibility that he wouldn't be home. You'd had this ridiculous notion that maybe he'd be waiting for you, watching both sides of the street until you appeared and batted your eyelashes and asked him if you could still take him up on his offer. You'd visualized the whole thing. Like a teenager.

Just knock. Just knock and if he's not there, go home and try again later.

You still haven't moved from the end of his walk when the front door suddenly opens. Your eyes widen in surprise as he appears on his front step in all his disheveled glory, putting his hand across his face to block the sun; he's barefoot, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a band you don't recognize on the front, and his hair is sticking up in different directions like he's just woken up. He brings a blue coffee mug up to his lips and takes a sip, eyes on you when he brings it back down, giving you a wry smile.

"Good mornin', babygirl," he says with that deep and slightly rough voice, leaning against the door frame, "Was hopin' you'd come back."

You blink a few times, brain whirring and stuttering helplessly as you stare at him. He's so handsome, so much older and rugged and sexy. You feel your panties get wet again and you can't even be mad at yourself; you're too distracted by the gorgeous man in front of you, looking directly at you, calling you babygirl. He's probably older than your father and yet you can't find a single bone in your body that cares in the slightest.

"Hi." you say softly, almost a squeak.

He smiles a bit wider, "Changed your mind, huh?"

You nod quickly, not knowing what else to say. He glances down at your dress and without thinking you shakily grab the zipper on your hoodie, tugging it down and showing him the full thing. You watch with bated breath as his eyes trail to your chest, looking openly and unapologetically at your breasts. He chuckles to himself and looks at your face again, taking another sip of coffee.

"I was hoping... um..." you bite your lip, trying to find the words, "I, uh-"

"Just come on in, darlin'," he interjects, laughing lightly again, "Don't hurt yourself." He moves back from the door a bit, gesturing for you to come inside.

You don't need telling twice. You put your head down, trying not to show him how nervous you are as you walk up his patio steps and slide past him into his house. You can practically hear your parents' voices in your head: "Don't talk to strangers. Don't go into a stranger's house." You're rebelling in more ways than one today.

"That's a pretty dress," he says behind you once you're inside, and you hear him shut the door. No going back now.

"Thank you." you turn to look at him, feeling out of place standing in the house of a man you don't know. You're just in time to see him looking at your body again and your skin heats once more.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he asks with a crooked smile, charming and natural. You tell him and he just smiles wider, tilts his head to the side, "That's pretty."

"Thank you," you say again, "Um, what's yours?"

"I'm Joel," he puts his hand out for you to take, "Joel Miller. Surprised you didn't ask your momma about me."

You take it and feel your knees go slightly weak at his firm grip, big hand dwarfing yours in size, "I - uh, I did. But she just called you Mr. Miller."

He smirks at that, squeezing your hand in his, "You wanna call me Mr. Miller too? You can."

"Um," you're not sure what to say, biting down on your lip again and feeling flustered when he doesn't release your hand, "Uh..."

"You're a shy one, aren't you?" he asks, voice going a bit soft, soothing, "It's alright, darlin'. I don't mean to make you nervous."

"I'm not." you say it too quickly and you both know it's bullshit. He drops your hand and you turn your attention to the room in front of you, an open concept living space with a kitchen on the opposite side; it's nice, although you're surprised someone is living alone in such a big house.

"So do you, uh...do you have a wife?" you figure you should probably get that out of the way first; you're already planning on sinning in one way today, you don't need to add adultery to the list.

"No, just me." he walks past you and gestures for you to follow him. You do, walking to the kitchen and watching him take a glass down from the cupboard and start filling it with water. You stand there awkwardly, smoothing your dress down a bit and looking around the room.

You're so fucking nervous. You don't even know what he's got on his mind, let alone whether or not you're ready to do it. You imagine he'll lead you up to his bedroom, maybe turn the lights off and close the curtains...light a candle? Put on some music? You hope he'll be gentle and slow, that he'll listen to you. You know from your college friends that most men your age aren't really good at setting the mood, knowing how to do things the right way. Maybe because Mr. Miller - Joel - is older... it'll be better?

"Here, sweetheart, breathe," he hands you the glass of water and you take it with trembling fingers, "You don't need to be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," you reiterate, shaking your head and taking a sip.

"Right. Just like you weren't scared yesterday?"

You frown and put the water back down on the counter, "I- I wasn't scared."

He chuckles, leaning against the kitchen island and tilting his head again as he looks at you, "Well darlin', I might've gone back in my house but I saw you from the window. You practically sprinted down the street," he smirks at the memory, "Seemed scared to me."

"I wasn't scared. I'm not scared." You're not sure you're telling him or telling yourself.

"You sure? You're all flustered" he murmurs, and suddenly he's reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, turning your head toward him. Your lips part in surprise, trembling beneath his touch as his thumb strokes gently against your jaw. You feel your face get even hotter.

He smirks at your response, eyes casting up and down your face quickly before he releases your chin and grabs the glass of water from where you'd laid it back down, turning to pour the rest of it down the sink. While his back is turned you fight to regain your composure, willing all the blood to disperse from your face.

"Well, no time like the present," he says, turning back around and walking past you out of the kitchen, "Guitar's in the living room."

You stare after him, brow furrowing in confusion, "What?"

"You still wanna learn that song, don't you?" he calls behind him, picking up his guitar from where it's leaning against the wall. He sits down on the couch and gestures with his neck for you to come over, smug smile still plain as day on his face.

You slowly make your way over to him, heart pounding in your chest. You seat yourself beside him on the couch, close enough that he can show you his guitar but not close enough that you're touching him. You may want him to touch you desperately but that doesn't change the fact that you're still freaking out right now. Because what does he want? You'd genuinely thought he'd meant something different yesterday with that comment about your fingers. He'd been flirting, hadn't he? Or is that just his nature?

"It's a simple chord progression," Mr. Miller - Joel - immediately begins to demonstrate. He strums on the strings, aligning his fingers carefully at the neck of the guitar and angling it in such a way that you can see what he's doing, "We start with an A and then go into G major pretty quickly."

You watch his fingers, long and almost delicate now as he presses his fingertips to the strings, holds them down as he starts to thumb out a tune. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes trained fully on the tender way he caresses the strings, coaxes beautiful sounds out of the guitar with minimal effort.

"Then D," he murmurs, and you notice that his eyes are also directed at his fingers, making sure he's showing you correctly, like he actually cares that he does it right, "And E into F sharp."

It's not like he's speaking another language - you know basic music theory from simply going to school all your life - but you don't fully understand how the notes and chords he's talking about translate into his fingers, into the shapes they make, where they push down. You know nothing about playing guitar and he's only a few moments away from realizing that; you can't help but already feel humiliated. Why the fuck had you lied to him yesterday? What are you even doing here?

"It pretty much repeats like that the whole way through," he says, starting the song over and strumming a bit slower, showing you his chord changes more purposefully, "But as I said yesterday there's lot's of room for some adlibbin' here and there, doesn't have to be by the book."

You feel yourself nod, although you still have no idea what he's talking about. He suddenly stops his movements on the guitar, directing his eyes back to you. You swallow down the nervous lump in your throat once again, willing yourself to look back.

"Wanna give it a try?" he asks, and without waiting for your answer he hands you the guitar. You take it from him with wide eyes, your own hands fitting into place where his had been only seconds ago, still warm; it makes you shiver.

"Um," you look down at the guitar, trying to shape your fingers in a similar way to what he'd done. Your nose scrunches up in concentration and confusion.

"Starts with A," Joel says, and you look up from the guitar to see him smiling softly at you, urging you to play him something.

Your fingers stay frozen on the guitar, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You can feel anxiety burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Okay, now I'm scared," you admit, voice shaky and small.

He doesn't say anything; you look up again and see him peering at you thoughtfully, brow furrowed. You hope he's figuring it out internally so you don't have to say it out loud, admit what a fraud you are.

"...You don't know how to play, do you?" he asks finally.

You bite your lip and hang your head in shame, grip loosening on the guitar, "No. I'm sorry."

To your surprise he laughs, deep and genuine. You lift your head back up to see him settle back in the couch a bit, shaking his head as he grins at you. You can't help but feel yourself smile back at him.

"You're adorable," he says with a sincerity that puts your tummy in knots, your gaze averting his once again, "I mean it, I can't even be mad 'cause you're so sweet, darlin'."

"M'not," you mumble, slightly embarrassed as you hand the guitar back to him and shake your head, "I'm a liar."

He takes it from you, "Why'd you lie? Coulda said you didn't play, I wouldn't have judged you for it."

You shrug, still not looking at him, "I don't know, I..." you sigh, biting your lip, "I wanted... I wanted you to think..." You don't finish but you're pretty sure he understands, aware of him nodding slowly in your peripheral vision.

"You're sweet," he repeats, voice softer this time, "So sweet, babygirl."

You shiver again at the pet name, finally bringing yourself to look at him again. He's still looking at you, dark eyes boring into your skin, lips turned up into that wry smile again.

"C'mere," he says, even softer, and you watch as he open his legs, moves back a bit on the couch and pats the empty spot in front of him. You stare, breath hitching at the realization that he wants you to sit there, "I wanna show you somethin'," he urges, "I won't bite, promise."

With shaky legs you reposition yourself on the couch, getting up and sitting back down between his wide legs. As soon as you're seated he brings the guitar down into your lap and sits up a bit, pushes his chest against your back as his arms wrap around your nervous form, holding the guitar in front of you.

"Watch my fingers," he says quietly, and you find that his voice is speaking directly into your left ear, breath warm and welcome against your skin. You have no choice but to obey, not that you'd even want to make any other choice.

He curves his fingers along the neck of the guitar again, pushing down the strings in a few different places and holding it there. He strums firmly, the back of the guitar pushing lightly into your belly with the tension.

"That's a C chord," he murmurs, strumming again, "See where my fingers are?"

"Yeah," you reply, barely a whisper; your mouth has gone dry.

"You hold your fingers as hard as you can against the strings," he continues, "It hurts at first, when you're learning, but the longer you play the more you build up calluses. You know what calluses are?"

You shake your head, unable to speak, too lost in the warmth of his breath against the nape of your neck, the masculine smell of him tingling your nose. He pulls his hand back from the strings and brings it up near your face, showing you his fingers.

"These are calluses," he explains, referring to the deep grooves embedded in the tips of his fingers, "They help you hold the strings down easier so it doesn't hurt."

You stare at his fingers, getting lost in their length and size, their girth. You feel yourself becoming wet in your underwear, clenching around nothing at the thought of one of those calluses touching you down there where you need it most. Your breath hitches again, thighs rubbing together involuntarily.

"Lemme show you," he murmurs, and to your surprise he suddenly takes your left hand in his and brings it to the neck of the guitar. You watch with bated breath as he carefully positions your fingers over the correct strings, holds them there with his own, "Play that."

With your shaky right hand you thumb the strings at the base of the guitar, a clear chord ringing out into the open room. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and he laughs again, charming and soft.

"There you go," he says softly, "First chord. Good girl."

The words send another pulsating wave of wetness into your underwear and you tremble beneath his touch, feeling your brows furrow in pleasure at the feeling of him being so close to you while you feel like this. Your hips buck up a bit but you feel too good to be embarrassed.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asks you gently, voice still close to your ear, "You're all flustered again, babygirl."

You hum, closing your eyes tight for a moment and trying to breathe, but all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. You swallow tightly when you feel his touch ghost against your thigh, eyes opening to see him press his palm wide against your bare skin. You watch with parted lips as his thumb strokes the skin just below the hem of your dress, eyes hazy when he pushes himself against you from behind a bit tighter.

"Why'd you really come here, sweetheart?" he breathes, almost a whisper, "Tell me the truth."

You take a deep and shaky breath and feel yourself leaning back into him, eyes closing again as he slowly strokes your thigh, "You know why," you whisper.

He hums in response, nosing your ear gently and breathing you in, left hand still holding yours tightly against the neck of the guitar, "I do," he murmurs. You feel as he presses a wet kiss against your earlobe, beard rough against your skin. Your eyes roll back when he takes it into his mouth, sucks gently on it while he squeezes your thigh.

You're in heaven, completely at his mercy as you fall back further against him between his legs, your own going lax and loose the more he touches you. No one has ever done this to you, put their mouth on any part of you that wasn't your lips, put their hands anywhere near where you're currently aching to be touched. You watch as Joel's fingers inch upwards along your thigh, slipping past the hem of your dress. You already know where he wants to put his fingers next.

"I'm a virgin," you squeak without warning, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach. His hand freezes on your thigh and he pulls back from your ear. Why the fuck did you say that?

Now he'll be a gentleman, he'll take you off his lap and tell you to leave, tell you he can't be the one to take your virginity. You've seen this in movies, read it in books, heard it firsthand from your friends in college. Men don't like the responsibility of being your first, don't like the idea of a girl getting attached to them. And Joel... he's a grown man and you're just a twenty one year old Catholic mess with way too much baggage. There's absolutely no way he'll want to touch you now.

"Let's put this down," he whispers, and carefully helps you move the guitar off your lap and place it to the side. Here it comes, he's gonna tell you to get up and go home. You wait for him to inevitably push you from the couch, awkwardly stand up and lead you to the front door.

But that doesn't happen. Instead, you watch with wide and confused eyes as he suddenly puts both hands on your bare thighs, squeezing them gently beneath his wide palms, "You ever been touched like this, darlin'?" he asks you quietly.

You shake your head, "N-no."

His thumbs stroke your skin softly, tenderly. You feel as he sits up a bit more and tightens his legs around you, holding you in place, "You like the way that feels?"

"Yes," you whisper, soft and secret, "Feels good."

"That's good, it's s'posed to," Joel murmurs, nosing your ear again, "Now let's pull up this pretty dress a little bit," the words send a shock to your system, eyes widening in surprise. He doesn't wait for you to help, just immediately goes for the hem of your dress and hikes it up your legs, exposing more of your bare thighs and a hint of your panties, blue and lacy to match your dress, "Oh, you're just a pretty little thing aren't you?" he breathes, voice hot against your ear, "You really never been touched?"

"Never," you repeat, and he just hums and presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, making your breath hitch, "Th-that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all, sweetheart," he breathes, tightening his grip on your thighs; the feeling of his large palms on your flesh makes you whimper slightly, looking down at where he's holding you and shivering, "Makes me want you more than I already do."

Your pussy is throbbing in your panties and you're sure there must be a stain through your dress, through the couch. You rub your thighs together and whimper again, head falling back against Joel's shoulder. You feel him kiss your hair, watch as his hands slide up your thighs so his fingertips are just slightly touching the edges of your underwear.

"You're all wet, aren't you?" he asks softly, soothingly, "Been sittin' here soaking my couch this whole time, huh? Want me to touch you so bad, don't you, babygirl?"

You hear yourself make a strange noise through your teeth, a hnnng sound that makes him chuckle, "You like that, don't you? You like bein' my babygirl?"

"I do," you whisper.

"That's good," he murmurs, "That's real good, babygirl." His thumbs hook into your panties then, tugging gently, "Now let's take these off," he says, beginning to slide them down, "so I can take a look at this pretty little pussy you've been savin' just for me."

You both watch as your panties slip down your bare legs with ease, dress still hiding your pussy from him entirely. It's impossible not to notice the enormous dark spot in the fabric, glistening in the sunlight. You can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Oh, baby," he groans, fisting them in his hand and thumbing the dark spot tightly, "So wet."

"Why does that happen?" you ask, swallowing around the anxious lump in your throat, knowing you're just advertising your inexperience even more by asking.

"Means you're turned on, sweet girl" he explains, thumb still pressed firmly against the wet spot as he presses another wet kiss to your ear, sloppier this time, "I'm turnin' you on."

"You are," you agree shakily, "It happened last night too, after..."

"After?"

"After I dreamed about you."

He smiles against your skin, dropping the panties to the floor and bringing his hand back down to your thigh; his thumb is wet and sticky against your skin, "You're a naughty little thing, aren't you? Did you touch yourself? Make yourself come thinkin' about me?"

"No," you shake your head, "I haven't... I've never..."

He groans in understanding, but not in an irritated or angry way. It's arousal, you can tell by the way his legs tighten around your trembling form, pulling you in closer. He pulls up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet and aching pussy to the both of you, lips bare and soft against his couch. You hear his breath hitch behind you when it comes into view.

"Fuck," he says, voice low and rough with arousal, "Look at you."

He barely hesitates, reaching down and thumbing your outer lips with both hands, his other fingers splaying against your inner thighs. You squirm at the feeling, brows scrunching together when he gently pinches your soft lips and sucks your earlobe back into his mouth.

"So soft, babygirl," he whispers, releasing it with a wet pop, "Look at that." You don't think he's actually telling you to look, more-so talking to himself as he caresses the outer part of your pussy gently, "So pretty."

"I-um... I shaved it," you whisper, "Just in case."

"Babygirl, you didn't need to do that," he noses your ear and you feel his breath, hot and sticky against your skin, "Woulda been pretty either way."

You feel your cheeks warm, "My roommates said most guys don't like-"

"Am I most guys?" he whispers, and continues to stroke your pussy lips up and down with his thumbs, "You know how old I am, babygirl?"

"N-no." His touch is becoming too much, too distracting. It feels good to have him touching you like this but it's still not where you need him to touch you, the slick part inside that's absolutely aching for his fingers feeling desperately wetter.

"Why don't you take a guess, see how accurate you are."

"Um," you barely understand what he's even talking about, eyes trained on where he's stroking you, "F-fourty?"

He laughs immediately, "Now we both know that's not your real guess, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, watching his thumbs, "Well... I don't wanna... I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He smiles, "You're sweet. But I don't care, darlin', gimme your real guess."

You sigh shakily, "Fifty."

"Close," he breathes, and you watch with a whimper as he begins to drag his thumbs up and down your wet slit, lips too puffy to show him what's beyond, "That's real close, bit higher."

Higher? Fuck.

"Fifty...three?"

He dips the tip of his thumbs ever so slightly inside your slit, then brings them out again and pushes your own wetness across your outer lips, making your skin glisten, "Higher."

"F-fifty five?"

"Fifty six," he finally says, still thumbing your juices all along your pussy. You're not sure how to respond, surprised by the number but also desperately turned on, waiting for him to finally slip inside where you're begging him to touch, "That make you uncomfortable?" he asks after a moment of silence, and you swear you hear a bit of hesitance in his question as his hands freeze, waiting for you to reply before he goes any further.

"No," you reply, shaking your head slowly, thoughtfully, "It doesn't."

"You're sure?" he asks quietly, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "Because I can stop, sweetheart. Just say the word, I'll let you go home."

You shake your head again, more frantically this time at the thought of him releasing you from his embrace, "I promise, Mr. Miller," you whisper, then quickly correct yourself, "Joel."

"You can call me Mr. Miller, babygirl," he whispers, and you watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pulls your swollen lips apart, exposing the innermost parts of yourself to his living room. Your mouth pops open in surprise, eyes widening at how wet and sticky you are, a big drop of your own wetness pushing past your aching hole and dribbling out onto his hand.

"Gonna take care of this perfect untouched pussy, I swear," he groans, rough and low in your ear, pinching your outer lips again as his gaze bores into your sopping cunt, "Gonna make her feel so good."

--

With wobbly legs Joel had helped you up from the couch, chuckling when you'd tripped up almost immediately. With sure and steady hands he'd straightened you up, carefully removed your hoodie and discarded it on the couch, "Won't need this," he'd said softly, "Let's go get in my bed, sweetheart."

Now he holds you on the edge of his bed, inside a bedroom that feels cozy and masculine, that smells like him. His bed wasn't made when he'd lead you inside but other than that he has a clean bedroom, small and comfortable. He now has you sitting in his lap with your legs wide, hooked over his own while you both face the full length mirror on the wall.

"W-what are we doing?" you ask breathlessly, feeling slightly embarrassed at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still hot, hair messy and dress falling off, positively debauched and certainly no longer the good little Catholic girl your parents raised. You watch as Joel fingers the hem of your dress again and slowly pulls it up, exposing your dripping pussy to the mirror and to the both of you.

"Wanna show you what I'm doing," Joel murmurs, coaxing your legs even wider and pulling apart your swollen lips once again, showing you the untouched part of yourself you've never seen before, "How else are you gonna learn if you can't see, babygirl?"

You nod slowly, watching as he spreads you wide. You bring your eyes up to his face in the mirror to see the way he's watching you. His eyes are dark and lustful, hair still tousled from the early morning, scruff thick and scratchy against your neck and shoulder. He follows your gaze and peers into your eyes in the mirror, pulls you wider; you squirm a bit and close your eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed at the sight.

"You're shy, arent you?" he whispers, a smile in his voice.

"I've just... I've never..." you shake your head, opening your eyes again to turn and look at him, forgetting about the mirror for a moment, "No one's ever looked at me like this before."

He smiles softly at you, somehow tender and fond despite the part of him that clearly wants to devour you, corrupt you. He takes one hand and brings it to your chin, tilts your face up to his and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, gentle and soft. You kiss him back, eyes closing as you slowly breathe him in, feel his beard rub tantalizingly against your cheek.

"You've done that before, haven't you?" he asks you once he pulls away, finger still on your chin as he looks deep into your eyes, "You've been kissed?"

You nod but bite your lip, "Yes, but...not like that."

He tilts his head, "Like what?"

"Like they really want me," you whisper, eyes falling to his lips and silently wishing he'll do it again, "Like they're not holding back."

Almost like he can read your mind, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours once again, this time gently easing his tongue inside your mouth. You take it openly, loving the way he pushes it against yours, smooth and wet. He tastes like coffee; it's pleasant and warm and you're so distracted by the kiss that you don't realize he's taken his hand from your chin and moved it back to your pussy, carefully sliding his index finger beyond your lips and stroking upward.

Your hips buck immediately, still kissing him hard and loving the way he doesn't pull back, doesn't slow things down or even speed things up, just keeps it to your comfort level, lets you decide what the kiss is. You moan against his mouth when you feel the callus on the tip of his index rub lightly against a particularly sensitive spot. It's only then that you feel you need to pull away for breath, leaving your forehead pressed against his and letting out a long exhale.

"You really needed that, didn't you?" he murmurs softly, calm and gentle, "My babygirl needs to be touched so bad, doesn't she?"

You nod frantically, opening your eyes again, "Please, Mr. Miller," you breathe shakily, "Please make me feel good."

He groans again, closes his eyes and pushes himself up into you; you can suddenly feel something very hard beneath your dress and you're not entirely uneducated; you know exactly what it is. Out of curiosity you grind down a bit on him and he presses his lips to your neck again, humming against the skin.

"That's my cock, you know that right?" he breathes, "You ever felt a cock, sweetheart? Even through someone's clothes?"

You shake your head, feeling that familiar nervousness in the pit of your stomach at the thought. He must sense your uneasiness because he immediately pulls himself up a bit, pushes you forward so you're not seated directly on top of the hard shape of him anymore.

"Don't worry about that, today's lesson is about you," he says soothingly, stroking your pussy again and making you tremble, "I'm gonna teach you how to come, okay?"

You inhale shakily, feeling slightly relieved; it's not that you don't want to see his cock - God knows you really do - but you're so inexperienced, you really have no idea what you're doing. You feel excited - and kind of touched, in a way - that Joel is going out of his way to teach you exactly what you've been missing, things you've only heard about. Today's lesson....it repeats in your mind as you watch him touch you in the mirror, thumbing your lips wide; does that mean there'll be more?

"Okay, babygirl, here's what we're gonna do," he murmurs, breaking you away from your thoughts. "See this lil' nub right here?" You nod, peering in the mirror at the tiny hooded bump Joel is lightly prodding, sending a buzzing electricity throughout your body, "That's your clit, she's the most sensitive part of your pussy."

"I knew that," you breathe "I think."

He smiles at your reply, "You're gonna touch your clit, that's all you're gonna do. Just touch it and rub it until you feel yourself gettin' close," he moves his hand up to palm your stomach, "You'll feel it right here, in your belly. You'll know it's comin'."

"Okay," you whisper, nodding again.

"When you feel it buildin' in there, you tell me, and I'll make you come."

"And coming...that means..." you wince at your stupidity, "That's an orgasm, right?"

"Yes, darlin'," he murmurs; his face is suddenly blocked by your face as he kisses the back of your neck but you swear you can hear him smile, "That's an orgasm. I'm gonna give you your first orgasm, that sound good?"

"Yes," it's almost a squeak, desperate and shaky. You watch in the mirror as Joel takes your right hand and carefully brings it to your pussy, extends your index finger alongside his own and gently presses down, "Oh," you whimper, hips bucking again, "Oh."

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, prodding your finger harder against yourself, "It's just like the guitar, you gotta be firm."

It feels incredible, both yours and Joel's fingers tapping the tiny bundle of nerves with a steadiness you know is only possible because of him. Without his guidance you probably would have already dropped your hand, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"And now you rub," he explains softly, thumb and pinky curling around your other fingers as he holds your index steady, rubs it back and forth against your clit. Your mouth pops open, eyes going hazy again as you watch his movements in the mirror, "There you go," he whispers, and you catch him watching your expression, the pure bliss in your eyes as he makes you feel something you've never felt before, "Good girl, sweetheart, that's it."

"Oh my God," you breathe, aware that you probably shouldn't be taking the Lord's name in vain at a moment like this, but somehow the act feels almost godly in itself, a sensation of pure pleasure that you've never felt before travelling all throughout your body, "It feels- oh my God."

"Tell me," Joel breathes behind you, still holding your hand and letting you slowly start to rub yourself on your own, taking the lead, "Tell me how it feels, baby."

"It's- it's so good," you whine, tossing your head back against his shoulder, "Mr. Miller," you shake your head frantically, "I feel it already, Mr. Miller, in my stomach."

He seems genuinely surprised at that, eyebrows raising in the mirror, "Okay, babygirl," he whispers, "Lemme make you come."

He removes your hand, places it on your thigh. Without any hesitation you bring it up to grip his arm, holding it tightly as he brings his own hand back down to your pussy and starts to rub your clit again, this time at his own pace. Your jaw drops, eyes rolling back as he stimulates you perfectly, finger stroking back and forth at a pace that sends a wet squelching sound throughout the quiet room. You can't even feel embarrassed, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being touched.

You can't see the mirror anymore, head tilted back so far against Joel's body that you're just staring at his ceiling, mouth open wide as numerous loud and completely uncharacteristic sounds blare from your mouth, long and high and indiscernible.

"That's it," he groans in your ear, a deep rumble that urges you on as he continues to rub you furiously, "There you go, there you go. Fuck, babygirl, give it to me. Fuckin' give it to me."

His words send you over the edge and you feel yourself stiffen in his lap, legs shaking uncontrollably as you writhe within his grasp. He slows his movements, coaxes you through it, continues to whisper praises in your ear as you have your very first orgasm in his arms. Your chest is heaving with exertion as you cry out, tears stinging your eyes.

"Mr. Miller," you whimper, closing your eyes and letting him hold you tight, your grip loosening on his arm, "Mr. Miller." It's like a prayer, the way his name rolls off your tongue. Not even an hour has passed since you first stepped foot in his house and you're already prepared to make Joel Miller your new God, kneel before him and give thanks for everything he's just done for you.

"Shhh," he coos, removing his fingers and letting you relax into his embrace, "You're alright, I've got you."

You continue to whimper and shake, vaguely aware of him slowly beginning to lay flat against the edge of the bed, taking you with him. You lay on top of him, breathing heavily.

"So good," you whisper, voice positively wrecked from what he's just done, "Felt so good."

"I know," he murmurs back, kissing your hair again and wrapping his arms around your middle, "I know, baby."

"M'gonna fall asleep," it's barely a whisper now, quiet and relaxed, "Sorry." You don't last long enough to hear what he says in response.

--

You wake a bit later, confused for a moment when you open your eyes and are greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. It's only when you look down at yourself and see Joel's duvet wrapped around you that it comes flooding back. You smile unconsciously, inhaling his scent and turning to bury your nose in his pillow. Everything smells like him now, including you.

You glance over at the clock on his bedside table: 12:04PM. You slept for a solid two hours. It doesn't surprise you, not after the shitty sleep you had last night and the absolutely ridiculous orgasm he gave you right before you drifted off, but still....two hours? And he didn't wake you?

You sit up slowly, squinting at the afternoon sun flooding through the blinds on his window. You swear you can hear some faint music coming from somewhere, a stereo nearby? A car passing? Then, your eyebrows shoot up as you fling yourself out of bed and run to the window, opening it up and peering down at the patio below.

Joel is sitting on his front step again, wearing different clothes now; he must have showered after you'd fallen asleep...probably took care of himself as well. The thought makes you shiver but you push it away, instead focusing on the lovely sounds emanating from his guitar, a slow and gentle tune that instantly relaxes you.

You pull back from the window and face the mirror nearby, assessing yourself. You're still the same person you were a few hours ago but something is different; your hair is a mess, makeup smudged, dress disheveled. With a bit of hesitance you slowly pull up the hem and expose yourself, eyeing yourself down there where Joel had touched you. You find that it doesn't make you as nervous to look at it now, unable to help the small smile that appears on your face when you remember the way Joel had worshipped it mere hours ago.

The memory of Joel has you leaving his bedroom quickly, descending the stairs in his house and walking into the open living space once again. You spot your hoodie on the couch and grab it, zipping it back on as you search for your panties; they're nowhere to be found. Your brow furrows as you pull up a few of the couch cushions but come up emptyhanded.

You smooth your dress down; it's long enough that it doesn't show you're not wearing underwear, but you'll probably have to hold it down when you walk home. The last thing you want is to expose yourself to one of your elderly neighbors.

You take a few deep breaths and walk to the front door, readying yourself to face the man who just gave you the best experience of your life. As soon as you open it he turns on the step, still playing his relaxing tune and looking you up and down.

"Hi," you breathe, a little shy, playing with your hands a bit as you walk toward him.

"Hi, babygirl," he says with a kind smile, nodding to you, "Sleep good?"

"Yeah," you reply, shuffling over and settling down beside him on the step, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for so long."

He smiles again, tilts his head, "You can sleep in my bed as long as you want, darlin'. Any time."

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your bare knees and biting your lip. He keeps playing the song, humming to himself as he does it; it's not a tune you recognize but that doesn't matter, just listening to him play is enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

There it is, you think to yourself, the attachment. It's already starting.

You look up at him again, smiling fondly at his look of concentration as he strums steadily. Your gaze falls to his fingers on the neck of the guitar and you swallow, remembering all too well where exactly they've been. The song finishes on a long and sweet note, positive and lovely. You can't help but playfully clap for him, grinning when he rolls his eyes and lays the guitar behind him.

"What song was that?" you ask, eyes bright as he peers over at you.

"Aha, Take on Me," he replies with a smirk, "Never heard that one?"

You shake your head.

"Wow, you really are just a kid, aren't you?" he murmurs, giving you another once-over before he turns back to look at the street, still pretty empty. Your brow furrows at his words, suddenly unsure.

"Is that...does that bother you?" you ask hesitantly.

He turns back to you and immediately shakes his head, "Not at all, sweetheart. Just means I have a lot more to teach you."

Your skin tingles at that and you feel yourself throb uncomfortably against his wooden step. You look down at yourself, making a face.

"What is it?"

"I'm already..." you shake your head, feeling embarrassed, "It's... I'm wet again."

"Jesus," he groans, almost laughing as he tilts his head back and looks over at you with a wide grin, "Don't say that to me, babygirl. Not when you gotta head home."

You look at him, confused, "I do?"

He nods, frowning slightly, "Your momma drove down the street about ten minutes ago, figure she'll probably be wonderin' where you are."

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, "I'm so sick of living with my parents. I can't wait to go back to college."

"Poor baby," he says softly, "C'mere." He pats his knee and you go to sit on it but freeze, assessing the street.

"What if someone sees?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He seems to think for a second, then nods and takes your hand. He helps you stand up and leads you quickly into the foyer of his house again, shutting the door and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"Mmmm," he hums into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "You smell so sweet, darlin'."

"I smell like you," you whisper back, unable to hold back your grin, "I smell like...sex."

He holds you tighter and pulls back to look at you, tilting your chin up and leaning down to kiss your lips. It's soft and unhurried; he still tastes like coffee, bittersweet and delicious,

"You come back here any time you want, okay?" he murmurs against your lips, "I mean it, any time. But especially when that pussy's wet and achin' for me. I'll give her what she needs, babygirl."

You shiver and lean up to capture his mouth again, nodding through the kiss and whispering, "I will, Mr. Miller."

--

You walk home quickly, holding your dress down and feeling more rebellious than you've ever felt in your life whenever the warm summer breeze ruffles past the fabric and onto your bare pussy, reminding you that you're not wearing any panties. They're lost somewhere in Joel's house; the thought gives you butterflies.

Your mother is bustling around in the kitchen when you get home, putting away groceries. She's distracted enough that she doesn't notice when you slip past the kitchen and head upstairs to change your clothes.

After showering - something you desperately didn't want to do but had to - you change into a more modest outfit and retreat back down the stairs, walking into the kitchen so your mom knows you're back.

"Oh, where were you?" she asks, chopping up a carrot on a cutting board in front of her, barely looking up, "Did you meet up with Bethany? Alice?"

Oh shit, you hadn't thought of a cover story, "Uh, yeah, met up with both of them."

"Lovely," she replies with a smile, finishing chopping and turning to look at you, "And they're well?"

"Yep," you nod, hopefully not too much, "I, uh, might be helping out at the soup kitchen soon."

Your mother claps her hands together and walks toward you, "Oh, I'm so happy to hear that," she suddenly furrows her brow, looking at your face with slight confusion, "Are you alright, dear?"

"O-oh, just... just warm from my shower."

She smiles and nods, turning away from you again, "Could you help me chop some veggies? I'm making soup tonight, might be good practice for when you're volunteering."

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

You reach up and touch your face one last time, feeling the heat still etched beneath your skin that you know for a fact is certainly not from your shower. You take one last steadying breath, then walk forward to help your mother.

You come back here any time you want, Joel's voice echoes in the back of your mind. You start to wonder how long you'll be able to last, but you already know the answer.

[avatar-anna]

Save a Horse...

2024 Masterlist

"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.

Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."

Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."

"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."

"Hm."

Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.

Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.

It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.

You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"

"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.

Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.

Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.

"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."

"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."

"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"

He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.

"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."

"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.

"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.

"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"

"Wh—What?"

Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."

What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"

"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."

"I—You—You snooped—"

"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."

You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"

"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."

You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."

"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"

"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."

Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.

Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.

"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"

His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"

Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"

"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."

You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."

"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.

Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."

Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."

Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.

"The book, baby. Go on."

Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.

Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.

"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"

"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.

"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.

"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."

"But—Ow!"

Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.

"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.

When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.

You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."

Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."

Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.

"Show me then, baby."