#this clearly says his first name only has one p

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you.��

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[lovelivision]

JEALOUSY! JEALOUSY!

pairing: 【𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞】 fushiguro toji/reader, geto suguru/reader, gojo satoru/reader, kamo choso/reader

wc: 4.7k

summary: your boyfriend has a hard time controlling his jealousy, but instead of communicating about it, he decides to take his frustrations out in a less than constructive manner...

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, established relationship, jealousy, dirty talk, swearing, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, biting, hickeys, cunnilingus, (minor) overstimulation, afab! reader, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as 'girlfriend' in Gojo's part, no use of y/n !!

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

𝑭𝑼𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑼𝑹𝑶 𝑻𝑶𝑱𝑰 ⭐︎

When you got home, Toji had a sour look on his face, one that you were pretty certain you knew the exact reason for. You had gone out with an old friend of yours, one you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. It wasn’t your fault he just so happened to be a guy and that Toji had a vicious jealousy streak.

Before you had left, Toji was sulking around the house, mumbling about how you were getting all dressed up for another man. You could only roll your eyes and tell him to stop acting like a child. In all honesty, it was a miracle you made it out the front door when he was in such a mood. Not putting it past him to keep you trapped in the house, or at the very least, make you late.

Now, he’s stood in front of you, as soon as you’re through the front door, that annoyed expression plastered all over his face. Pursing your lips, you wait for him to speak, since he so clearly has something he wants to say.

His eyebrow twitches slightly, “Did you have fun?”

That’s a loaded question if you’ve ever heard one. Carefully, you reply, “I did.”

“So much fun that you couldn’t message me back?” He pulls his head back, looking down at you from above.

You can’t help but feel somewhat amused, “Toji… I replied to every message you sent.”

He squints at you, “No–”

“–Yes,” you cut him off, “I replied to every message but the last one because I was driving.”

He folds his arms and grunts, apparently done giving verbal responses.

It’s kind of cute, you didn’t think he’d be the type to pout like this. This isn’t the first time he’s been jealous, but it is the first time it’s been this bad, he seems like he doesn’t really know how to handle it.

“Toji,” his eyes lock on yours when you call his name softly, “You don’t have any reason to be jealous,” you smile at him, trying to offer comfort.

He snaps, “I never said I was jealous.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you mumble out, “You didn’t really have to…”

His gaze sharpens on you, not liking your assumptions. He’s not jealous, not of any man, he’s the one who gets your affections, he’s the one who gets to touch you at the end of the day, he’s the one who hears all your sweet little moans when he’s fucking you so hard and fast you can barely breathe…

“Toji?” You wave your hand in front of his face, trying to regain his attention.

He’s quick to catch your wrist and stop your movements, tugging you to him closely, “You know what, maybe I am jealous…” Smiling evilly down at you as he asks, “…What are you gonna do to fix it?”

“It seems more like a you problem, no?” He’s so warm, so large, you want him to kiss you, he’s close enough to.

He breathes out a laugh at your words, amused and a little annoyed, “I think since you’re the reason I feel this way, you should take responsibility for fixing it.”

“Fine,” you mutter, reaching to his face with your free hand. Your touch gentle on him, leaning up to press your lips to his softly. The kiss only a momentary peck, meant to be sweet, make him feel better.

He moves his lips to kiss you back but you’re parting from him before he can manage to kiss you properly. He huffs, “Don’t think it worked… might need to try again.”

A light smile graces your features, but you lean in and kiss him again, the same as before. Fleeting, not giving him the chance to reciprocate in the way he so clearly wants to.

He groans when you pull back again, both his hands moving to grab your face and hold you still. His lips land on yours harshly, taking the breath out of your lungs. His kiss hot and heavy, tongue licking into your mouth.

Hands angling you so he can kiss you deeply, swallowing down your moans with his own grunts. It’s messy and desperate, his lips all too eager to drive the pair of you crazy like this, in the threshold of your shared home.

Toji’s hands travel down your body, pulling you to him, parting only to murmur, “Jump.”

You do as he says, wrapping your legs around his waist, his large hands holding underneath your thighs. He carries you blindly to your room, his head buried in your neck, licking and biting at your skin. Leaving behind marks that will surely be difficult to cover tomorrow.

You make a shocked noise when he suddenly drops you onto the bed, bouncing slightly with the force of it. Toji pulls his shirt up and over his body, you’re eyeing the way his torso stretches, mesmerised by him. Your thighs clench together slightly at the display, getting worked up.

Dropping the shirt onto the floor before looking at you, “Undress.” When you don’t move immediately, he clarifies, “Now.”

Putting on a determined face, you light-heartedly salute at him, “Yessir!”

You’re both undressed, only you’re sat in your panties looking up at him, waiting patiently for what he has planned. When you move to tug down your underwear, he stops you, “Leave ‘em on.”

You get comfortable on the bed and he crawls over top of you, leaning on his knees, eyeing you from above. Appreciating the view of you squirming below him, your thighs rubbing together, all worked up from his kisses.

Looking at you like this almost has him forgetting what had him so worked up in the first place, almost.

Leaning down, his mouth hovers over yours, “I’m gonna fuck you in your lil’ panties, make a real mess out of ‘em.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, you don’t really know how to answer him other than with a quick nod, “…Okay.”

He smiles big at your reaction, “Such a good little listener when you’re about to get fucked but never any other time, huh?”

“That’s–”

Objection cut short when he starts playing with your panties, pulling them to the side so he can see just how wet you are for him. Whistling low at how much your pussy has gushed for him, thumb rubbing up and down your slit. Collecting your juices and using it to rub quick circles into your clit.

“Messy thing, drooling over the thought of my cock,” his tone completely smug.

Your hips twitch, “Toji, don’t be mean…”

“You’re the mean one,” he moves, his cock now swiping though your folds, spreading your mess all over the length of him, “Leaving me here all alone while you’re out with another man.”

“It wasn’t like that, and you know it,” your words are less spoken and more moaned at him.

“Oh?” he pauses his movements and your hips twitch, trying to regain the lost friction, “Getting real mouthy with me.”

You shake your head ‘no’ at him and he tuts in disapproval.

“Please keep moving,” you try to grind up into him, needing him to move.

His hand pushes your hips down, the expression he’s wearing bright with bad intentions, “Don’t be greedy.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken him feeling jealous so lightly, he’s clearly planning on torturing you all night over this…

𝑮𝑬𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑼𝑮𝑼𝑹𝑼 ⭐︎

You’re doing your hair in the bathroom mirror when Geto walks in behind you, dark look on his face as he watches you. His foul mood had only come about when you told him you were going out with some friends.

He’s being ridiculous, they’re just some work colleagues but because you work in a place that has hired mostly men, he’s feeling some type of way about it. You sympathise, truly, but his pouting and brooding isn’t going to stop you from going out and making connections within your field.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you lock eyes with his in the mirror and frown, growing tired of his attitude.

He looks away from you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You call his name, “Geto,” he looks back at you, “You’re being ridiculous.”

His scowl deepens, not appreciating your bluntness. He knows he’s being ridiculous; doesn’t mean he’s going to stop all of a sudden. “It’s your fault.”

You guffaw at him, “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t elaborate, “I don’t like that you’re going out with a bunch of men…”

Trying to offer some comfort, you say, “…It’s not all men.”

“Mostly men, then,” his head falls back in exasperation.

While he’s not looking, you roll your eyes and leave the bathroom. Moving back towards your bedroom, you’re just about ready to head out, only missing your coat and shoes. Geto is hot on your tracks, following you around from each room.

In the kitchen, you’re about to leave, heading for the door. He’s still behind you though and you’re growing frustrated, “Do you need something? Because I am about to leave.”

“Yes actually,” he gestures so you’ll walk closer to him, “You’re forgetting something.”

Cocking your head, you look at him curiously, not sure on what he’s referring to but moving towards him all the same. When you’re within reach, he’s pulling you towards him, mouth on yours within seconds.

His kiss is urgent and sloppy, not caring at all about how he may be ruining your lipstick. His tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Hands searching your body, hot on every part of you.

Slowly, without you realising, he’d walked you to the kitchen, your back hitting the counter. Gasping at the unexpected contact, Geto only kisses you more, his lips needy and desperate against yours. He’s making you feel faint, your hands moving to hold onto him, needing to ground yourself, getting swept up in how good it feels to have his lips on yours.

Pulling yourself back, huffing against him, “What are –hah– you doing?”

“You forgot to kiss me goodbye,” he hums simply.

Your eyes are slightly dazed as your brows crease at him, “That was hardly a goodbye kiss.”

“You’re right,” he murmurs, leaning in again, “Not good enough, was it?”

You don’t get to answer, he’s already kissing you stupid again. Tongue insistent, mouth even more so. It’s messy and not even close to how you’d normally kiss him goodbye, almost like he’s trying to kiss you so hard that you forget you were even going out in the first place.

Fingers slide down your body, to the front of your pants. Deftly sliding into the front of them, down under the waistband of your panties, not wasting anymore time. Geto sees it like this – if you’re going to be going out with a bunch of men, he’s going to make sure you’re thinking about him the whole time.

“There isn’t time for –mmph– this,” you’re anxious about being late, he’s going to make you late.

“Of course there is, you always cum so nicely for me,” he noses the side of your face, “This won’t take long at all.”

That embarrasses you, your face twisting with your embarrassment, “Sugu–”

“Oh? It’s Suguru now? Been Geto this whole time but now you’re calling me by my name?” his tone is lilted, enjoying this, “You need something from me and now you’re acting familiar?”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, brimming with frustration and arousal, “Please…”

“Please what?” His fingers inch down more, not touching you in any way that matters, “Please make you cum fast? Or please stop?”

Looking up at him, your eyes wet, you answer, “The first one.”

“Smart choice,” he praises.

He’s quick to touch you in a meaningful way then, fingers sliding through your slick folds. Making your already messy cunt even messier, spreading it all over. He can’t help but groan at how much you’re leaking for him, how is he meant to let you go out when you’re this needy, always so ready to take him.

His fingers prod at your entrance, slipping one finger inside, opening you up on him carefully. Gentle with this part, fucking you softly with one finger before adding another. The squelching sounds of your pussy obscene, it’s making you feel hot in the face.

Moans leaving you as his pace increases, your head falling forward onto his chest, hiding your face from him. His free hand grabs your throat and pulls your head back, looking you in your eyes, his thumb on your chin, keeping you still.

“You keep your eyes on me, wanna see when you start crying,” his eyes are filled with delight at how you already look like you might cry for him.

You gasp out his name, not really sure what you’re even asking for. He only hushes you, not at all concerned with the urgency in your tone.

One of his feet kicks at yours, spreading your legs wider. The moan you let out at the shift pornographic, breath stuttering with it. His fingers continue fucking you through it, speeding up, thumb circling your clit relentlessly.

You don’t have time to think, or really breathe, mind as hazy as your eyes. You’re not even really sure if you’re still looking at him, so out of it that you’ve lost all focus. Head sure to have lolled back if Geto weren’t holding it still.

His face leans in, tongue licking at the tears you weren’t even conscious of having shed, “Doing so good for me.”

His praise makes your cunt jump, knees buckling slightly. He chuckles at your visceral reaction. The way your greedy pussy sucks his fingers back in each time making him feral for you, wanting more than anything to fuck you so deep you can’t even think about going out.

He’s holding back though, he wants you to go out with your work friends in the panties you’re wearing, covered in your cum. He wants you daydreaming about his cock while you’re out and he wants you begging for it when you get home.

“If you want to make it somewhat on time, you better cum soon,” he warns, mouth against yours.

He kisses you deeply again, only furthering your fucked out state, His thumb on your clit even more insistent in its pressure, your body shaking against him, fighting to stay on your feet.

He breathes against you, “Clenching on my fingers so fucking tight, jus let go for me,” he nips at your lip, “Cum all over my fingers.”

All the air feels like it leaves your lungs, limbs twitching as you cum suddenly and violently all over his fingers. Stuffed full of them as he works you through it, he groans at how blissed out you look, at how you positively drench his fingers.

When you stop twitching, he moves your panties back into place and shoves his fingers covered in you into your mouth, making you clean them.

He smiles at you sweetly, “Better clean yourself up, don’t wanna be too late.”

𝑮𝑶𝑱𝑶 𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼 ⭐︎

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, your phone buzzes, you don’t even check it, already knowing who it is. Also because you’re out with a friend, at least you hope he realises he’s just a friend. It was supposed to be you two and one of your other friends but she’s suddenly not here and it’s just you and this guy you’re not all that close with.

Not only that, but this place is far fancier than you would’ve expected for just some friends catching up. You have a sneaking suspicion that this is a set up but it’s not like it bugs you a whole heap, you’ll be kind now and chew out the friend that orchestrated this later. He’s not overstepped or anything anyways, and he is a friend.

As for your incessantly buzzing phone, you hadn’t messaged Gojo back the whole time you had been out, well… that’s not true. You had been replying at first but then he started blowing up your phone and you couldn’t take it anymore and stopped looking.

Which, you realise now, was a mistake because you can feel him beside you, his tone chirpy as he speaks, “So you are alive!”

Your brows pull together, turning to look at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” he smiles innocently.

Growing exasperated with him and also embarrassed, you quickly remind, “You knew I was going out with some friends.”

“Yeah… friends… but you know, it occurs to me that this looks like a date,” he turns to your friend, “What happened to the other person?” His tone is polite but feels threatening.

He looks taken aback, “She… cancelled?”

It’s not lost on you how his remark comes out like a question, like he might not be telling the truth.

Gojo stares at him carefully before speaking again, “Okay! Well, just give me a moment with my girlfriend and we’ll be right back.”

He’s tugging you up and along after him before you can protest, pulling you behind him into the restroom. Closing in on you as soon as you’re inside and the door is locked, eyes unreadable as he looks you over.

You’re hesitant to ask, “Gojo, what are you doing here?”

“Well, when it looks like my girlfriend is out on a date without me, I can’t help but grow a little suspicious about what you’re up to.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

Defending yourself, you tell him, “I didn’t know where we were going or that it was just us until I got here.”

“Then you should’ve left,” he’s pouting slightly now.

Feeling sheepish, you break eye contact with him, “I didn’t wanna be rude.”

He continues to pout at you, “So, you’re polite to everyone but me?” He sighs when you don’t answer, stepping closer to you, “How about to make it up to me, you let me fuck you right here, right now.”

Looking to him with shocked eyes, “You can’t be serious–”

“–Deadly.”

He leans in and kisses you, it’s filthy and not even a little bit polite, lips crashing with yours in a depraved manner. Tongue licking at yours, pulling moans and whines from you, his hands on your hips, moving you away from the door and towards the sink.

“Hands on the sink, I’m gonna take you from behind,” he nips at your lip as he pulls back.

You wish you had more of a fight left in you, but he kisses you so hot and he makes you so dizzy and quite simply, you want him. So, you do as he says, you turn around and place your hands on the sink counter, eyes catching his in the reflection. He smiles brightly at how well you listened to him.

His hands tug your pants down, pulling your panties to the side. Fingers playing with your pussy, sliding through your slick, making it messier, “Next time, you should just leave,” two of his fingers slip inside you and you fight the urge to moan, “Or call me and I will come get you.”

His fingers fuck into you fully, scissoring them open, trying to make sure you’ll be able to take him completely.

“Mm sorry,” you mumble out, head dropping down as you huff, hips pushing back into his fingers.

“I know, you assumed no malice,” he pulls back and you whine at the emptiness, “But you see…” his fingers undo his pants, pulling his painfully hard cock from them, “..You’re just so cute. So, you need to be more careful.”

The head of his dick prods at your entrance, slipping in slowly, not wanting to hurt you. His head leans down to yours, lips by your ear, “Since you’re already taken and all.” He hisses against you as he slips inside you deeper.

Fucking you on half of his cock, opening you up more and more with each thrust back inside. He grips your hips tight, needing to ground himself, getting too caught up in how wet and hot your cunt is.

The soft, lewd, squelching noises your pussy makes is making his heart stutter. Head lolling back at how completely consumed in pleasure he’s becoming. Soft calls of his name bringing him back.

Your voice small as you plead to him, “‘Toru, need –hng– more, please.”

“Got such a perfect cunt,” he murmurs lowly, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you everything you need.”

He thrusts his hips into you, pelvis smacking your ass as he forces the rest of his length into you all at once. You keen, loud moans about to pour from your lips just as Gojo slaps a hand over your mouth. Pulling you back and pressing your back to his front, he slips just the slightest bit deeper from it and your waterline fills with tears.

“Be quiet, don’t want anyone finding us before I finish so deep inside you, you’re leaking my cum inside your panties for the rest of your date,” he almost spits out the last word, joking in the usage but hating how he walked in to see that.

You can tell he’s genuinely hurt from the sight, “Mm sorry,” you mumble out from behind his hand.

“I know you are,” he huffs, kissing away one of your tears, “I don’t blame you, sweetheart.”

But with how he starts absolutely abusing your cunt, hitting your cervix with each of his thrusts, it certainly feels like he blames you. Your eyes rolling at the pleasure, mind scattering as he fucks into you so hard and fast you can barely even think.

Teeth grazing your throat before biting down into your skin, licking over the mark when he pulls back, “You’re going to cum all over me now and then later, when we get home, I’m gonna fuck you again and again and you’re gonna take it all. Until I forget the image of you on a date with someone else and all I can remember is how you look stuffed full of my cum.”

You can’t speak, his hand on your mouth preventing it, but glassy eyed and fucked out, you nod your affirmation at him. Accepting his terms. At it, his pace increases again, fucking into you like he might never get to again.

The slapping sound filling the room louder than any moan you could let out, his hand on your hips reaches around and rubs circles into your clit. The sudden stimulation would’ve had you folding if he weren’t holding you to him so tight.

Your eyes rolling as you cum abruptly, cunt choking Gojo’s dick, his thrusts slowing slightly. He doesn’t stop though, chasing his own high as well as riding out yours, thrusting into you only a few more times before pressing you back into the sink counter with a hand on the back of your neck.

He grinds into you from behind, cumming deep inside you, fucking it all inside, trying to make sure it gets as deep as he promised it would. His cock spasming as you twitch around him, pussy overstimulated and fucked raw.

Leaning down over you, his chest to your back, he murmurs into your ear, “Better make yourself presentable,” he kisses your cheek, “Your date’s waiting for you.”

𝑲𝑨𝑴𝑶 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑶 ⭐︎

Getting ready has never been harder than it has been right now, you’ve been trying to get ready to go out all evening but it’s hard when Choso’s clinging to you the whole time. Hands on your hips as you look in the mirror, following you around the whole apartment like a lost puppy.

He’s not voiced any concerns, you don’t know if he has any, or if he’s just feeling especially needy tonight. You’re meant to be going out with a group of friends tonight, catching up over a few drinks, that kind of thing.

When you had told Choso this, he was fine with it, at first at least, until he learned that not only were there men amongst the group but that one of them was your ex. An ex from so long ago, you were just kids, it didn’t even count as a relationship to you but it’s making him uneasy. Especially when you’re dressing up so nicely, all done up, smelling so good, he can’t let you leave.

He’s having a hard time verbalising that though, and so he’s just following you around, struggling to voice his apprehension about the whole thing. Clearly growing tired of it, you turn around and stop him, “Choso, is something wrong?”

He looks away for a second, “…No.”

“You’re sure?” You double check.

He confirms, “Yes.”

You still don’t really believe him, a look of doubt etched on your features, “Okay… then I’m gonna leave now and I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.”

He nods at you, and you move in to give him a quick peck on the lips, he grabs you though and turns the kiss dirty. Tongue in your mouth, licking at you, pulling moans from you as he kisses you harshly.

Barely parting from you long enough to let you breathe, let alone speak, his kiss hot and heavy. When he does part from you, it’s to start sucking marks into your neck. Your breath stutters in your chest as you struggle to gain enough sense of self to talk to him.

“Cho–” You’re cut off suddenly because he’s picked you up and walked back into your room.

Dropped onto the bed suddenly, he looks down at you, “Don’t want you to go out,” he huffs, “Wanna taste you.”

“Cho, I have to go out,” you gasp out.

He’s travelling down your body, already pulling your pants off, chucking them across the room. His speed in undressing you never fails to amaze you, always so quick to leave you bare before him. His gaze greedy as he looks at your panty covered cunt.

Wetness seeping into the cotton, dark spot present where your slick leaks from you. He leans into it, nose pressing at your clit as he licks at you from over your panties. It makes your head buzz, the friction different and unexpected, your hips raising into him.

“Smell so good,” he groans out, hips digging into the mattress below, need climbing up his own spine.

“Please,” you whimper at him.

“You want me to take these off?” He asks, “Or do you want to go out?”

You don’t even have to think about your answer, “Off, I want them off, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hums, ripping them off you, throwing them on the floor somewhere he’s not concerned with right now.

The only thing he is concerned with right now, is how your pussy glistens for him. So wet and needy, he could probably fuck into you like this, make you take him all. He’s not evil though, and he’s also desperate to have your cum in his mouth so he’s gonna tongue fuck you until you forget you were meant to go out today.

His tongue licks at you, from your hole to your clit, where he sucks harshly at you. The pleasure shocking you to your core, thighs twitching by his head. Hands reaching out to tug at the bed sheets.

Head tipping back with your moans, biting your lip to try and stop them but failing completely, especially when he licks into your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit with how deep he fucks it into you.

When you look down at him, he’s already looking back at you, eyes sharp. It makes you dizzy, how focused on you and your reactions he is. His hands grip your thighs and push them apart more, spreading you as wide as you’ll go. He wants his tongue to go as deep as it possibly can.

If he wasn’t so in control of your body, you’d worry that he was going to hurt himself with the force of how he was eating you out. Always so completely involved in your cunt when he’s tongue fucking you, not a single other thing on his mind but how you taste, how you sound, how you react so cutely to his touch.

Flicking his tongue in ways that make you go cross eyed, body twitching pathetically at how ravenous he is. The lewd sounds of his tongue lapping at your dripping pussy would make you self-conscious but then his nose rubs at your clit in the most delicious way and suddenly you don’t care about anything but how good it feels.

Choso is relishing in how fucked out you’re getting for him, delighted in how you’re falling apart so quickly. His hips can’t help but hump into the bed, his need growing with every single sound you make, with every taste of you he has.

It doesn’t take you long at all to cum on his face, calling out his name as your cunt gushes all over him. His mouth happily drinking it all down, finally getting what he wanted, your cum in his mouth.

His hips stutter into the bed as he sucks at your pussy, cumming in his pants with his mouth on you. Not even a little bit embarrassed about it, feeling relief at being able to finish. His own cum coating his pants.

He keeps licking at you and you twitch in overstimulation, trying to pull away from him. His strong hands hold you still as he grunts out, “Not done yet, need more,” He nips your thigh, voice completely wrecked for you, “Need it.”

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

a/n; toji's wasnt as horny as i wanted it to be but i realised i was yapping a bit too much and cut it short, sorry !!! otherwise thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it !! <3

[elleandstufff]

Birthday Girl 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It’s my birthday, so y'all are getting birthday smut. 

Thanos x fem!reader

Warnings: Established relationship, wet dream, birthday sex, slight somnophilia, pre-established consent, oral (f receiving), sleep orgasm, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink ig, begging, pet names, he’s not high so ooc Thanos, reader wears contacts because I can’t see for shit, 800 words

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Anytime you had a wet dream, it was more of a feeling rather than an actual dream. This time is no different. You feel as if you are wrapped up in a soft cloud while the most heavenly feeling emanates from between your legs. It starts off slow, then builds to a brutally fast speed–so fast that you can barely take it. You feel a coil building up inside you, and you can’t hold back anymore. You let go, feeling the dam within you burst. 

You wake on your back, the blurry ceiling being the first thing you see. Feeling pressure on your lower half, you lift yourself onto your elbows to peer down. Your boyfriend is lying in between your legs, his head resting on his arms that are positioned on your lower stomach. Your vision is blurry, but you can still clearly see the goofy smile on his face as he lovingly gazes up at you. 

“Goodmorning, birthday girl,” he says, voice deep and still heavy from sleep. 

“So I have you to thank for that sleep orgasm?”

“Yep,” he says, tone full of cockiness. “Think that’s a new record. Fastest one yet.” 

You playfully roll your eyes and prop yourself up a bit more. Reaching for the bedside table, you grab hold of your contact case and pop the little blue discs into your eyes. Looking at him now with clear eyes, he presses a chaste kiss to your clit. It sends an involuntary shock through your body. You didn’t realize how sensitive you still were. 

“You want more, baby?” Your boyfriend notices your arousal, and you nod eagerly. 

“What do you want? I need you to use your words, baby.” 

“Your cum,” you whisper sheepishly. 

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he says, even though you’re certain that he can hear you. 

“Your cum. I want your cum.” 

“Good, and where do you want it?” 

“Inside,” you nearly whine. You’re desperate to get filled after all his teasing. 

“Well all you had to do was ask, baby.” 

He smirks, then presses gentle, slow kisses on the insides of your thighs then up to your stomach. He pulls the tee shirt of his that you had been wearing off of your body before kissing your boobs, your chest, your neck, doing everything besides the one thing you need. 

You desperately tug at the boxer shorts he’s wearing, and he thankfully obliges. He finally positions himself at your entrance, and you grab onto his lean shoulders for stability. He inches himself into your hole inch by inch, so painstakingly slow that you try to buck your own hips forward. He stops his movement completely and holds you still. “Ah, ah, ah, you’re not in charge here, birthday girl.”

“Please fuck me,” you whine. “Please, I need it so bad.” 

“Well, since it’s your birthday and you’re asking so nicely…”

He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace. Your brain barely works as he pounds in and out of you, the sound of him slamming into you filling the room. He has you pinned down to the mattress so firmly that you can’t move at all. Instead, you rake your fingers down his tattooed back. 

He catches your mouth in a kiss that’s as intense as he is. Your lips and tongues clash together in a way that convinces you that you weren’t the only one feeling needy this morning. His lips drop to your neck, and he bites and sucks at your neck until you know you’ll have a mark there for at least the next week. “Mmm, fucking love you.” 

You’re a whining and moaning mess that can’t get any words out, especially because you feel your second release of the morning rapidly approaching. He slips a hand down to your already incredibly sensitive clit, and just a few rubs has you coming undone all over his cock. 

You don’t have time to recover before he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders. He presses against you, effectively folding you in half. “You want this cum, huh? Gotta make sure I get it real deep then. Can’t have any slipping out.” 

He’s impossibly deep in you, nudging places inside you that you didn’t know existed. He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes. “Beg.” 

“Need… your cum… so deep-” You barely form the words, but it does the trick. 

He shoots thick, hot ropes of cum deep within your walls. He gives a couple of soft thrusts after he finishes, trying to keep all of his seed as deep as possible within you. He slowly pulls out after he goes soft. He gingerly lowers your legs back onto the mattress, and then he plops beside you and pulls you against him. You lie there for a few minutes just catching your breath and relaxing in each other’s touch. 

“What time do you have to go into the studio today?” you ask your always-busy boyfriend. 

“No studio today,” he answers. “Only you.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅ Masterlist ‧₊˚ ⋅

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Joint Mission Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I had an epiphany after I finished Warnings: MDNI, Angst

This was a standard joint mission. Two teams, one task, in and out, and it's done. So why did John Price feel so nervous?

The mission seemed pretty straightforward and the new guys seemed formidable. Not at the same caliber as the 141, but they're getting there.

Really, everything looks fine, so why is he nervous?

But it didn't matter as he pushes his concern to the side as he greets the team of three on the tarmac. After some quick introductions, he guides the trio to the conference room where the rest of his team waits.

As they got closer, John felt his heart beating faster and faster. What was going on with him?

And he wasn't the only one as Johnny also had a bad feeling about this mission. However, unlike his captain, he actually voiced his concerns out loud.

"And why were we paired up with these guys again?" the Scotsman asks for the 5th time today. Ghost glares at him while Kyle groans. Gaz shoots you a quick glance to see if that had caught your attention. It didn't.

"I mean, why couldn't we get Farah and Alex to help us on this or even Los Vaqueros?" Soap adds.

"Laswell's orders," Kyle grunts out.

Honestly, the fellow Sergeant wasn't sure what the concern was. He could tell Price was also feeling something, but what? Laswell has never led them astray so this should turn out fine, right? The last time Laswell sent someone, things started out perfectly. As long as the 141 can act right, then things should go swimmingly.

Well, after first introductions, Kyle realizes that they're not the ones that need to act right. It's the new guys. Gaz caught the extra attention you got from the three.

"Sergeant Keegan P. Russ, at your service."

"Sergeant Kim Hong-jin, but you can call me Horangi."

"Lieutenant Nikto."

That last one would not have been so bad if you weren't the only one who got a handshake from the Russian.

Kyle knew he wasn't the only one to notice as he caught Ghost clenching his fist.

And Ghost was not going to let you go without a fight.

"Isn't there supposed to be four of you? Where's your captain?" he asks. Ghost stands tall and stares them down.

The three don't react as they take a seat at the table. It isn't until the three have settled in their seats that one of them speaks up.

"Our Captain already talked to yours so don't worry about it," Keegan replies. He stares back at Ghost, clearly not intimidated by the British Lieutenant.

"Great, so we're stuck with a Yankee, a gambling addict, and a commie," Ghost groans out.

"That's enough," you bark out. You shoot an incredulous look at the Lieutenant who immediately buckles down. You order everyone to take a seat so you can start your presentation. "The faster we get this done, the faster I can get back to work and you guys can continue whatever this is," you chastise.

The new team immediately voices their agreement which made Ghost's blood boil.

As you go over the details of the mission, Price looks around the room and catches the way the three new soldiers stared at you. Something in their eyes didn't sit right with him. It looked way too familiar, it almost reminded him of his bo... oh hell no.

He calls out your name and says, "you know what, I can take it from here." He pushes his chair out and places his hands on his knees, getting ready to stand up. However, before he can even get up, you immediately speak up.

"What do you think you're doing?" You ask. You're clearly not impressed.

Price feels the energy in the room shift. He looks at you sheepishly and repeats himself. "I can finish it from here."

You scoff. "Captain Price," you slowly say, "what's my position here?"

"The 141's Intelligence Operative."

"Close, the 141's temporary Intelligence Operative," you correct him. John feels his heart clench. You fail to notice his heartbreak and continue, "and what's my role as the Intelligence Operative?"

"Deal with anything and everything that has to do with intelligence. I think I got it, I'm--"

"No, no, no. I'm not done," you bite back. You're obviously annoyed. It seemed like you were annoyed most days here. "And this presentation, what is it about?"

"Intelligence surrounding our newest mission," John grumbles out.

"Okay, okay. So, if this presentation has to do with intelligence, who should do it?" You stare at him, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.

Horangi raises his hand which catches you off guard. "Yes, Sergeant Kim." Now you're sheepish, embarrassed that the new guys had to see you like this.

"Please, call me Horangi," he assures you. Much to John's dismay, that seemed to ease your concerns. "If I may, I think the answer that you're looking for and your captain forgot is that you should be doing this presentation, and I completely agree." Despite your straight face, your eyes glowed with content. You thanked Sergeant Kim and turned your attention back to Price.

"Is that okay with you Captain? May I continue?"

John just nods, feeling absolutely embarrassed and ashamed with himself. What the fuck was he thinking?

As you continue with your presentation, the 141 oscillate their attention from you to the new guys. Ghost catches the gentle look in Nikto's eyes. Johnny recognizes the look of admiration on the Keegan's face and Kyle notices the excitement in Horangi's eyes. And Price finally understands the root of his worries as he realizes that this new task force is looking at you the exact same way that you used to look at them.

It seemed like the one thing that the boys were avoiding could very much happen now and it would all be their fault.

Word Count: 980

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[ace-turned-confused]

sickening desire

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader summary: you and your stepdad don't have much in common, but you always try to keep things friendly. back home for college break, he's not making it very easy. word count: 2,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, big ol' age gap (reader is nineteen), food mention, joel is big & beefy, stepcest, cheating, fucked morals all round, pet names, joel's a disgusting dirty perv (i'm so serious), smut, grinding, mentions of m & f masturbation, unprotected p in v, cockwarming, 1 spank, creampie, dirty talk, sprinkle of daddy kink, praise kink, panty kink a/n: written for @beefrobeefcal's MARRIED JOEL SITS ON YOU prompt - i got to witness the birth of this on discord, and thought how can i make this cute idea deranged instead, so here we are. idk how all this happened. this is stepcest, you have been warned. if it's not your thing then pls scroll on, no hard feelings in here <3 not beta'd

After weeks of phone calls, texts and endless hounding from your mother, you caved and decided to come home for your college break. She was missing you like crazy, and apparently you had aunts and cousins who were just dying to see you after so long, no doubt ready to bombard you with questions about the life of a college girl as if you were the first of the kind.

So, you came home to your mom and her new-ish husband, Joel Miller. You can count the number of times you’ve met him on one hand, one of those occasions being their wedding. You’re not sure how they make it work, but then opposites do attract…

Marriage has been good to Joel, his mental health and financial stability have improved, and overall he seems a happier person — not that you could tell from looking at him, with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The only ‘drawback’ seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline — his jeans now too tight around his thighs, the seams visibly strained, and his tummy poking out past his belt. They no doubt add to his eternal pissed-off facade, but he’s far too stubborn to admit he needs to buy new ones.

Your mom reminds him, often, how much he’s filled out in recent times, and judging by the bitterness in her voice, she clearly doesn’t approve. You’re not sure why she disapproves, but you’d never admit that.

From what you know, he’s neither an overly good nor a bad guy, he’s just… Joel, and the two of you have nothing to talk about, so you keep your distance out of courtesy. At least, you try to.

Since you’ve been home, you’ve caught him staring a few times but pin it down to aged eyesight. Most days he greets you in the kitchen with a husky ‘mornin’ sweetpea’, and makes a point of brushing up against you, half hard and warm in his threadbare sweatpants. He’ll place a hand on the small of your back when he stands beside you, pinky wandering down to toy with your waistband.

You cover up the way your breath catches and stop yourself from clenching your legs together every time — either he doesn’t have a grasp on personal space, or he’s doing this on purpose. The way he watches you move around once he’s sat down says all you need to know. You try not to think about it.

-

You’re flicking between channels one night when the front door clicks open, the heavy stomp of workboots echoing down the passage and into the room. Joel waltzes in, dumping his keys and without a word, sits directly onto you.

“What the fuck?”

“This is my chair, sweetpea. Not my fault you’re in it.”

You try pushing him off you, a losing battle with the extra kilos he’s put on since tying the knot with your mom. He mumbles something to you, his words lost underneath the TV and your strained grunting.

“What?” You huff at him, growing more and more agitated.

“I asked, you gettin’ off on this like you did sittin’ on my lap?”

Your mind swirls as you try to pinpoint what he means. It’s just when you’re about to give him lip and ask him what the fuck he’s on about, that you remember — and suddenly you wish the world would just swallow you whole.

-

During Sunday’s roast lunch, you were surrounded by extended family, filling in the blanks and avoiding the painfully personal questions; Joel spent the day with his standard disgruntled look and your mom was overzealous in her storytelling — everything and everyone just how you remembered.

Everyone broke off into smaller bubbles after lunch, and you stared at Joel as he unbuckled his belt and slumped back on your aunt’s couch — he stared right back at you, head cocked to one side as he weaselled his way into your mind with just a slight smirk and a wink, large hand resting teasingly over his crotch. You left the room, intentionally distancing yourself from him the rest of the day.

It was late afternoon by the time you begrudgingly hugged each family member goodbye and settled in the backseat next to Joel, some extras tagging along for the free ride back to your neighbourhood. With your headphones in and all other passengers occupied, you tried to nap the rest of the way home and regenerate the energy siphoned from you throughout the day. You had no complaints, up until now.

You sat up when your mom stopped off at a different house with just over half the trip still to go. Her heart of gold meant she’d offered a lift home to too many people for her one car, so being the youngest, she suggested you just squash up or sit on someone's lap… Which is fine when you’re nine, not nineteen.

And not just anyone offered up a place, no, Joel lifted his hand in the air and said you could sit on him — with no other way to get home, you pinched your eyes and cringed, but did it anyway. You were fine for the first 15 or so minutes until the road became uneven, and you realised just how fucked this whole thing was — when you first sat down on Joel, he wasn’t hard. You took a breath to try to steady yourself without drawing extra attention.

It was just a… natural response? God, that doesn’t make it any better.

You shifted forward, tried to reposition your weight over his legs and knees and told him you were just getting stiff — wrong fucking choice of words as you became even warmer than before.

Your mom stopped off to refuel along the way, everyone climbing out of the car to stretch, and you made a beeline for the bathroom, splashing yourself with water to cool down.

Joel watched as you came back to the car and you tried not to stare when you saw he was fully hard in his jeans; you felt mortified when you saw the damp patch you’d left on the fabric.

Back on Joel’s lap for the rest of the trip, everyone else was asleep with your mom still driving, radio turned up and blissfully unaware. You’d be able to forget about this, lock the memory away and move on if you hadn’t been so fucking turned on.

What’s worse, you making your stepdad hard, or him making you wet?

-

Joel snuck his hands onto your hips and you tensed, caught off guard by his touch.

“Keep ya steady,” he muttered, fingers digging into your skin.

Holding onto the seat in front for balance, he felt you were trying to lift your weight off him. He tightened his grip on you, slowly pulling you down onto him completely. There was no going back — he was fully hard by now, so he may as well get the most from this.

He pulled you to lean into his chest, his voice quiet in your ear, “S’alright sweetpea, almost there.”

Your head was turned to watch your mom the whole time, and Joel should have cared, but he just couldn’t, not when you were all warm and sweet on top of him. You stayed taut the entire trip home, Joel’s hands on your hips and bulge pressed deliciously against your core. He shifted you atop him every so often, and you desperately wanted to hate how good it felt.

When you finally arrived home, you clambered out of the car and left everyone to fend for themselves, darting for your room. You were about to close the door when you caught Joel staring again, the front of his jeans damp and darkened from where you were perched. You unpacked your clothes, sorted out your washing, and even took a shower but the incessant ache was still there. You finally gave in and shoved your hand between your legs.

-

A loud advert plays on the TV and brings you back into reality, Joel still firmly on top of you.

“Don’t act all fuckin’ innocent on me now, I know those panties of yours were gettin’ all wet with you grindin’ down on me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were real quick to run off to your room that night, you had to stick your fingers up in that cunt of yours to get yourself off?”

“Fuck you, Joel.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to. I know you dream of gettin’ fucked real good by your daddy, huh?” He twists to look at you, the motion pushing more of his weight onto you. “No point in arguin’ with me, I heard you that night… I’ve heard you on a lot of nights since you been home, always callin’ out for me.”

You don’t talk back as you keep pushing to get him off of you — he has enough leverage just from hearing you at night, he doesn’t also need to know that you are enjoying having his weight on you like this, unable to fight back or do anything about it.

“Now you got nothin’ to say?” He lifts himself slightly and gestures for you to get up, grabbing your wrist before you can walk away. “Did I say I was done talkin’?”

He faces you towards the TV, standing you between his now spread legs. Skating his hands up the back of your legs, goosebumps rise on your skin as he moves higher and higher, lifting the hem of your skirt as he goes. He kneads the swell of your ass, sliding his thumbs under the edge of your panties.

“These the ones you had on that day?”

“Huh?”

“Barely touched you and you already can’t think straight. Are these the panties you had on when you sat on my lap?”

“Uh, no? I don’t know, Joel.”

He pulls your panties up to expose more of your skin, smacking a hand down on the side of your ass. You jolt forward at the impact, a fresh wave of arousal seeping out between your folds.

“‘S a real shame, I bet they were soaked right through, huh? Soakin’ ‘em right now, the way you’re droolin’ for me. You wanna know somethin’, sweetpea?” You don’t bother answering, lost in the feeling of finally having his hands on you. “Never used to enjoy doin’ laundry before you came to visit, but now… Well, now I get to see all the pretty panties you have. And I always know when you’ve been thinkin’ of me, they get extra dirty.”

He reaches up to grip your hip, his other hand twisting to push in between your legs. Your hips jerk as he traces his fingers along your damp panties, pushing up into you against the fabric.

“Seems like you actually were gettin’ off on havin’ me on top of you…” You crane your neck at the clink of his belt buckle and watch as he drags his zipper down. He stares up at you the whole time. “But now you’re gonna sit on me again.”

Pulling you backwards by your waist, he keeps your skirt lifted and hooks a finger into the gusset of your panties, tugging them aside. He runs his fingers through your folds, already sticky with need. You clench your legs when he pulls away again, and he sighs, frantic and satisfied; turning around again you see he’s taken his cock in his hand, thick and hard, coating himself in your slick.

He guides you down onto him and a gasp slips from you as he drags the head of his cock through you to line himself up. Your gasps turn to a strangled moan as he pulls you to sit, sheathing himself completely — it’s a delicious stretch without any prep, and again you find yourself wishing you could hate this, hate him for doing this.

He lets your skirt drop down again as you settle on his lap, and picks up the TV remote with one hand, the other a vice grip on your waist. He flips through the channels, ignoring the fact you’re sitting firmly on him.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? We’re watchin’ TV, sweetpea. And you’re gonna be a good girl for me and sit still. With all the starin’ and whinin’ you do, this was only a matter of time.”

“And all the staring you do?”

“As if you don’t fuckin’ love it.” You clench around him at his words and he sniggers at you. “You’re real tight, sweetheart. Now sit still.”

-

You’re not sure how long you sit like this — Joel staring deadpan at the TV with his hands wrapped around your waist, and you aching for relief as you hold back from squirming on top of him. The initial sting has subsided, replaced now with a steady and simmering burn as you leak around him.

Your breathing deepens as you fight with yourself — do stay composed and try to win, or give in and let Joel make you feel good?

“Won’t lie, sweetpea, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you.” His low voice draws you from your inner conflict. “‘Specially now that you got me in you.”

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, and he punctuates himself with a lift of his hips, rolling you on him. Fuck it, just give in. Whimpering as he repeats the motion over and over, it’s the most he’s done the entire night.

“You wanna know somethin’ else?” He keeps grinding your hips against him, the stretch of his cock and the strain of your panties against your clit bringing you closer and closer. “Dunno if you’ve ever noticed your panties go missing? S’cause I took ‘em, sweetpea. I take your pretty panties and I use ‘em to jerk off, dirty or clean, doesn’t matter to me, s’long as they’re yours. I smell ‘em, I wrap ‘em around my cock, I picture you wearin’ ‘em when I come all over ‘em.”

At some point in his rambling, he’d snaked a hand around to your front and under your skirt, and shoved his fingers in your panties to circle your clit. Just like a lot of things lately, you’re trying to hate how much you love it.

“That’s it sweetpea, come all over your daddy.”

Your legs tense, trapping his hand as he works you through your high, murmuring praises in your ear as you writhe on top of him — unfortunately for you, it’s the hardest you’ve ever come. He doesn’t give you time to think, wrapping his arms around you to lift you up and bundling your arms behind your back.

“Stay there, ‘m not done with you.”

Steadying yourself by leaning on his jean-covered thighs, he starts pistoning up into you, over and over as he uses you for his own high. Squeezing your hips, he pulls you down to match his thrusts, the room filled with his grunting and your whining and the obscene squelch from between your legs each time he fills you. It’s not long before he starts shuddering underneath you, pulling you down hard as he spills into you with a groan.

He holds you, almost affectionately in his arms as he relaxes, warm breath being puffed into your neck as he nuzzles against you and his hands smoothing over your clothes. Turning to look at him, his lips are just parted and his pupils are blown wide. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, surging forward to press your lips to his instead, afraid of what the truth might be.

It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s almost pure, the way he kisses you back, the hairs of his beard and moustache prickling your skin as a hand comes up to cradle your face, the other still held around your waist. You pull back from him, and he has that usual deviant glint in his eyes when he opens them again.

He stands you in front of him, just like you were before this, and he pulls your panties back over your core. He waits and watches as his spend starts oozing out of you and gets absorbed into the already damp cotton.

“Definitely gonna make good use of these ones, sweetpea.” He winks as he stands up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, still sticky from both you and himself. “Next time you can wear ‘em, just like I told you.”

tagging some friendos from the wip wednesday snippets, Imk if you'd like to be taken off <3

@luxurychristmaspudding @whocaresstillthelouvre @milla-frenchy @clawdee @burntheedges

@greenwitchfromthewoods @yopossum @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @bubble-pop-eclectic

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst

cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21

Prompt: Please

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 

Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.

He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 

He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 

Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.

Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.

He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 

"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 

Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 

Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-

"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."

Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 

"Why would I be mad?" 

At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 

The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.

It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse

"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.

"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.

"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.

"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.

"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 

Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 

"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 

Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 

"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.

"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.

"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.

"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 

Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."

Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 

"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 

There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 

Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 

Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 

"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 

Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 

Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 

Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.

He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.

But that’s not what happens.

Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 

"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.

"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 

"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 

Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 

"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 

"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 

"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 

Steve nods. "Ok."

"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"

He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 

"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 

"Because of the mug?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 

"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 

Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 

Eddie sighs. Bingo. 

"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 

"N-no."

"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 

"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 

Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"

"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 

Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 

"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 

Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 

"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 

Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 

Steve nods. "Please."

God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 

He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 

He's going to kill that motherfucker.

But not right now. 

Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 

How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 

[necstasy]

candy-coated raindrops

& willy wonka

synopsis. willy wonka lets you play around in his chocolate kit. neither of you could have predicted that you would create an aphrodisiac chocolate.

includes. aphrodisiacs, smut 18+ MDNI, accidental drugging (due to aphrodisiacs), oral (f receiving), dry humping, cumming untouched, premature ejaculation, p n v intercourse, virgin coded willy, teaching/coaching, neighbors/friends to lovers, typical wonka shenanigans, fluff

word count. 6k

a/n. title from candy rain by soul for real. art is aftersleep by lewinale havette.

Willy should have never let you in his chocolatier kit. He was being sweet, charming, romantic, even. It seemed like a harmless idea at the time, letting you have full reign over the elaborate ingredients in his at home kit, allowing you to make whatever chocolate you wanted. 

You’ve seen him make chocolate often enough to know the process. You stressed that you didn’t need his guidance. You wanted your creation to be a surprise, so you casted him off to his living room while you sat in the kitchen, working diligently to create your masterpiece. 

When you finished and had two tiny and harmless-seeming chocolates in your hand, you and Willy quickly indulged yourselves, humming around the surprisingly pleasant taste. But then the effects began to kick in. 

They were slightly unnoticeable at first, and your immediate instinct was to attribute the sudden warmth to a shift in the temperature, the sweat gathering along your hairline to the stress of making chocolate, the adrenaline in your limbs to the sugar making its way through your body, the stirring low in your abdomen to the presence of someone you feel something for standing just across from you. 

But the growth of your symptoms were confusing. Willy displaying similar symptoms was alarming. 

Standing in the center of his apartment, you’re trying to ignore the way your heart is trying to jump out of your chest and into his while you focus on the way Willy’s green eyes are a little lidded and heavy and—dare you say—lustful as he stares at you, all while you’re trying to get to the bottom of the incident. 

“Willy,” you call his name once, and when he doesn’t answer, you call it twice. It’s not until you introduce a firm tone that he blinks himself out of whatever stupor he was in. When he looks at you again, his eyes seem a little clearer. 

(He was intensely trained on the way your blouse, newly tailored by your own hands, fit over your bosom with just enough strain to create emphasis. In fact, you were filling out all of your clothes quite well today, but he hadn’t noticed until now. Until the chocolate has taken effect, he reminds himself.)

“I’m sorry, have you been talking?” 

You nod. “Yes!” 

Willy clearly hasn’t been listening at all. Now, he stands straight with his hands tucked into his front pockets. You don’t fail to notice the tension in his shoulders and his face, especially since he attempts to relax both areas, only to end up in the same predicament as before.  

“Did I do something wrong with the chocolates?” You ask him. 

Willy takes a second. He clicks his tongue, turns to face the wall to your left, and hums. 

“That depends. Did you do something wrong with the chocolates?” His attempt at a joke falls flat, especially when your response is the same expression. He presses his lips into a thin line, dips his head. “Sorry.” 

He runs down the list of the standard ingredients, asking if you’d included each and every one to the T. Then he gets to the additives, the ingredients that make Wonka’s chocolate unique. The array that you previously had free reign to, left with one singular instruction to not mix them together. 

“You didn’t mix them, right?” His eyebrows lift, his eyes widen as if mixing the ingredients could cause something as disastrous as the end of the world. When you shake your head with the absolute truth, worries melt from Willy’s face for just a second, before his eyebrows push together and he takes a step closer to you. 

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you used the pink bottle? The small one tucked in the corner?” He says it with caution, and this tone alerts you more than the previous. This tone is careful, as if he’s attempting to not scare you as well as himself. 

This tone makes you hesitate to answer truthfully. You choose avoidance as a replacement strategy. 

“What would happen if I did use the pink bottle? Nothing bad, right?” 

Willy steps back, turns, and begins to pace the apartment, your eyes following him to and fro. 

“Nothing bad, I guess. Just … unfavorable. Awkward. Debauched.” With each adjective he stops, faces you, and then continues pacing. 

Debauched? Is that why you feel like this? Is that why you’ve been watching Willy’s mouth and hands move rapidly? Why you’ve been noticing how pink and smooth his lips are, and how slim and long his fingers are, and why you suddenly can’t stop thinking about exactly what he could do with both. 

It takes loads of strength to snap yourself out of your daze. 

“Um … debauched? What d’you mean, Willy? What was in the pink bottle?” 

He finally stops his pacing to face you. His green eyes seem a little remorseful, maybe regretful. He looks like he’s going to deliver unfavorable news, things that could change the trajectory of your slightly comfortable life. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” 

An aphrodisiac. Willy Wonka has an aphrodisiac in his chocolatier kit. It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, the man has Yeti tears and Hoverflies and other things you can’t even begin to comprehend. But Willy Wonka making sex chocolates is the thing you’re struggling to wrap your head around. 

You don’t bother asking why he has an aphrodisiac, and you know what it would do—what it will do to you both—but you still find yourself asking for assurance. 

“What would an aphrodisiac chocolate do?”

Willy clicks his teeth. “Well, I suppose it would … do what aphrodisiacs do.”

Currently, it’s certainly doing what aphrodisiacs do. Willy really shouldn’t have let you make chocolates.  

You turn away from him. 

When you’d been sitting in front of all of Willy’s ingredients, they were all a little overwhelming. You had endless options for what you wanted to create. Endless possibilities for effects. And when you’d decided to keep it simple with a pretty pink unlabeled bottle, you assumed the chocolate would be strawberry flavored at most. Not this. You can’t help but ruminate, letting your thoughts lead you down twisted corridor after twisted corridor, all lined with possibilities of how you and Willy’s cherished friendship could be destroyed by this one mistake. Your mistake. 

You hear his footsteps first. Soft thuds of his worn in boots against the creaky floor. You feel the warmth of his body next, getting closer and closer until he’s right behind you. 

When his hand touches your elbow, you flinch at first. When he doesn’t remove his touch, you quickly become used to it. 

“Hey, you aren’t panicking, are you? Because I’m sure I could whip up an anecdote or something. It might take a while because I don’t know the exact ratio, but I’m sure I could do it.”

There’s a second where you don’t say anything, even though you have a worried reply already brewing on your tongue, the words along the lines of Willy either making the situation worse or taking too long to create an anecdote. Ultimately, you decide to hold your tongue, not willingly, instead because you’re acutely aware of the way Willy’s trying to soothe you. You’re focused on the way his voice reverberates in his throat, the volume and tone so soft that you can’t help but create an entirely different scenario for when the words could be said in your imagination. He sounds so beautiful, a voice you want to hear for as long as the universe would allow it. 

And if that’s the chocolate or your long term crush talking, you don’t know. What you do know is that you and Willy should stay away from each other just in case either of you thought about giving in and ruined whatever good thing you had going thus far. 

Willy doesn’t take kindly to your suggestion. 

He steps in front of you, bending down enough to force you to look at him, his hopeful eyes searching for your downcast ones. 

“Stay away from each other? I think we should do the opposite, just for our own safety. We don’t know how strong this batch is, you know. What if you walk out of this flat and jump onto the first guy you see?” 

He talks fast, bordering on rambling, and his words hold an edge stronger than plain worry. Jealousy, even, but you refuse to believe it. 

(Willy certainly is jealous at the thought of someone taking care of you in this state, especially since that would leave him alone with only his hand and the memory of you once more.)

When you agree to stay, your decision is based on wishful thinking. You both sit back on Willy’s new couch, a display of how well his chocolate shop was doing. There’s a little too much space between you both, but the energy radiating from your bodies occupies the gap.  

Willy asks you about your symptoms first. 

You list them off, the same as before save for the addition of the arousal gathering in your panties. Willy nods, you notice his ears turning a very light pink as he divulges into his symptoms. 

“The same as you and I uh …” he hesitates. His hips shift along the couch and he wipes his hands along the knees of his trousers. “I have an erection,” he eventually admits, his voice just a tad bit too low. 

It is plain curiosity that drives you to look over at his crotch where you take notice of the evidence. 

You want to stare longer, you really do, and your gaze does linger for a moment. Until you feel Willy watching you and you lift your eyes to his, taking in the way they’re just wide enough to display curiosity, a look he wears often and well. 

He licks his lips and your ever inquisitive eyes pick it up. 

“How long do you think the symptoms will last?” You ask him. 

Willy shrugs. “It can’t be more than a few hours, right?” 

You nod, sit back, and wait. 

Two hours pass by before you give in. 

You make it through the first hour with much difficulty and nothing but board games, books, and stories about your childhoods to keep you tethered. You go to the bathroom an hour and a half in and seriously consider forcing your fingers between your thighs for just a bit of relief, but Willy calls out for your turn in a rousing game of chess from the otherside of the door and you’re flushing the toilet and waddling back out to face him. 

It’s a slight brush against the other that changes the course. 

You’re both in Willy’s kitchen attempting to make tea. The space is like yours, just inverted, which means it is entirely too small for the price you pay. You’re moving around well enough at first, asking Willy where things are before you grab them yourself as he works in tandem. 

And then it’s a slight brush, just the smallest bit of friction from his crotch running against your bottom, that makes your breaths hitch. 

For the past two hours, you both had been avoiding the issues at hand, dancing around the elephant in the room like hormonal teenagers going through their first near-sex encounter. Willy kept a pillow over his lap to shroud his prominent boner. You tried your best to keep your blouse from rubbing against your erect nipples, or the seam of your trousers from rubbing against your cunt. And all things considered, you were doing pretty well. 

All it took was one little brush and suddenly your pelvis is pressed against the counter, the cabinet above you is closed with its desired contents forgotten, and Willy has you caged in your spot with his hands on either side of you. 

His head rests against your shoulder as he frantically rocks his hips into yours. One of his hands leaves the material of the counter to grip your hip, keeping you still as he continues to hump you. Your own stimulation from the act is minimal, but the aphrodisiac has apparently also made you grateful because you take what you can get. 

Plus, the little sounds Willy makes are enough to get you off alone. You wished you could bottle them up and take them back with you, in fear that this would only be a one time thing. 

He is all but whimpering against your back with each shaky thrust into your ass. He glides the length of his cock along the seam of your cheeks, working in strokes as long as the situation allows for. 

There’s not much coordination to it, but apparently it gets the job done because it is alarming how soon his hips stutter and he rocks into you one final time before he stops and pants against your back. 

His turnaround time is even quicker. 

“Oh God,” he steps back from you, but the kitchen doesn’t allow for much space. When you turn around to face him, he’s still within arms reach. “I’m sorry. I … I don’t know what came over me. Maybe you were right, we should’ve gone our separate ways. Allow me to show you out…” 

You put an end to his rambling by pulling him close with one hand on his face and the other on his shoulder. 

You’re bold for a moment, bold enough to bring your mouths almost together. The tips of your noses touch, you can feel his breath mingling with yours, but then you give him space. You give him the option to back out, positively damning you to your own devices and memories once more. 

But if it means you and Willy could remain friends, then you’ll take it. 

The doubt begins to creep into your mind. It starts to make a home in your frontal lobe, distorting the image in front of you into something shameful. Self deprecating, even. He had just humped himself to completion against your back, yet you question how he feels about you. 

Your touch on Willy’s body lessens into a gentle press for just a second in preparation to separate from him completely, but then Willy takes the initiative to move a hair closer and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s swift at first, nothing but a hesitant press of lips against lips. It’s not halfhearted, though. On both ends is a certain amount of exercised restraint, and when you sigh and press your chest to Willy’s, he gets rid of his first. 

Like before, Willy displays an unruly side to him that you had barely seen before. He delivers onto you a passion you have only seen him have for his business thus far. 

His hands eagerly cup your cheeks as he sears his mouth against yours. Your lips move in uncoordinated tandem, lacking any cleanliness within it. You allow yourself to be coaxed into opening up until you have your hips against Willy’s and your hands in his hair. 

When you bump your crotch into his, Willy makes a noise into your mouth that sounds like he’s been wounded. It’s then that you notice that he’s hard again. Or, maybe he was never soft to begin with, despite the dampness you know to exist within his trousers. 

An idea forms into your mind. 

You continue to allow Willy to kiss you, opening your mouth just enough to tease your tongue into his, before placing the muscle back into its home. Meanwhile, your hand travels down, over Willy’s chest, along his waist and pelvis, and then right to his croctch where you brush the palm of your hand over his boner with just enough pressure to elicit a reaction. 

He sighs, pulling back from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. You take the positive reaction in stride and continue your work. 

Your lips part in grateful shock whenever Willy rests one of his hands on your bottom, gripping the flesh through your skirt in his hand. His eyelashes flutter to open, revealing his big green eyes, windows into his soul that display the desire swarming through his body like a colony of active bees. 

You only palm Willy’s cock twice more before he rests his hand on your wrist. 

Your eyebrows lift, but you don’t have to voice your curiosity. 

Willy smiles at you sheepishly as he delicately peels your touch away. “I don’t wanna …” He shakes his head. “Not too soon. Again. I want you to feel good, too.” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

You dig your fingertips into the stiff waistband of Willy’s trousers and use your grip to pull him to the den behind you. Truthfully, even if you hadn’t tethered him you knew he would have followed. 

As soon as the couch is within sight, you direct Willy to it and push him to sit. He falls back unceremoniously with a light “oh!”, looking up at you expectantly, eagerly. His lithe hands resting on his knees, his eyes as wide and curious as ever

As soon as you straddle him, he weakly thrusts up into you, as if the reaction was unintentional and instinctive. When your hands begin undoing the buttons of your blouse, Willy’s eyes drift down to watch, and it’s comical how they widen even more whenever your blouse is open and he gets the first look at your chest. 

You pull the remainder of the shirt off of your body, and slip the straps of your bra off of your shoulders, but you stop there. 

“Do you wanna take it off?” The previous haste hangs suspended over you both for just long enough for Willy to answer. As soon as he nods you’re directing his nimble fingers to the back of your bra, dropping your touch to allow him to fumble for the clasp. You expect it to take longer than it does, but only a few seconds and two attempts are needed before Willy has your tits exposed. 

He stares. And stares. His lips quirk into a small smile, he compliments you with so much sincerity that you think you flush a little bit. 

His hands still rest at your back, fingers lightly pressed into where the band of your bra had been digging into your skin all night. You don’t say anything when you latch your fingers onto his forearms and pull his hands around to the front. 

Willy looks up at you with raised eyebrows, nonverbally asking for the permission you’ve already given him. Still, you nod once, and then he has two large hands covering your tits. You let him gather his bearings there, directing him every so often in ways to massage and pinch and rub against your nipple. Just when he starts to pull direct pleasure from you, he inhales as if he was going to say something.  

“Can you—uh …” he hesitates and then starts again. “Can you teach me how to make you feel good? What can I do?” 

You’re busy knocking your hips in a search for more pleasure, so it takes you a second to respond. “You can use your fingers. Or your mouth.” 

Willy’s reply comes incredibly fast. “My mouth. If that’s okay with you.” 

You stop moving and just smile down at Willy, brushing a stray curl off of his face only to watch it fall right back into place. “More than okay with me.” 

Which is how you end up sitting on Willy Wonka’s new couch entirely bare, your legs spread before Willy who is on his knees in front of the couch. He has only taken his shirt off, and despite the disparity in nudity, you don’t feel uncomfortable. Even though you’re spread open before him. 

From above, you’re able to see the way your cunt glistens, enticing even you to do something about it. It’s all the more confusing on why Willy is just sitting there, staring. You know he’s inexperienced from the way he requested guidance, but does he not know what to do at all? 

Your lips part. “You can start by–” Willy doesn’t let you finish before he speaks over you. 

“Just one second.” He drags it out. 

It’s there where you realize he’s not completely lost. He’s just admiring. 

You don’t rush Willy, even when your emptiness starts to become unbearable and you can feel frustration growing. You don’t have to wait for long, though, because Willy is soon extending a long middle finger and gently pushing it against your folds, applying just enough pressure to separate your lips and dip into your arousal. 

He swipes through the fluid, gathering it on the tip of his finger before lifting the digit to the light, ignoring the way you shiver. You watch him inspect the way his finger glistens. You watch him bring it to his mouth and wrap his lips around it. You watch his cheeks hollow as he sucks his finger clean, his eyes fluttering shut much like they do whenever he’s tasting one of his particularly well made chocolates. 

He releases his finger with an audible pop, his eyes opening and focusing right back on their target. When he speaks, it’s likely to himself. 

“Wonder if I could harness this flavor.” He leans in as he says it, his lips getting closer and closer to the place you’ve wanted him for a while now. His last few words are spoken in almost a whisper, but you catch it anyway. “Maybe put it in one of my chocolates …” and then he’s letting his tongue exit his mouth and placing it on the path he’d opened. 

He takes tiny and tentative licks for a few moments, focused on not one particular spot. He’s in between your entrance and your clit, occasionally catching a cluster of nerves that provide a teaser of what he could be doing with just a bit of guidance. Guidance that you’re willing to provide. 

“Go up a bit,” you tell him, your hands digging into the velvet fabric of the couch cushions under you. He moves up, his eyes watching you and his eyebrows raised curiously. “Just a little further. There should be a–” He finds it just then and your head throws back. 

You think he speaks a “there?” into your clit, but you can’t be sure. You nod either way, letting praises slip past your lips while Willy focuses his tongue there. 

He’s not half bad now that he knows what to look for. His hands hold you open, one palm on each thigh, five fingers pressing into your skin with a firm focus. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit, sometimes slipping a little too far under or above but it works. The aphrodisiac knocking through your system makes sure that it all works.

Your hand eventually gravitates towards Wonka’s curls, fingers slotting through the tousled brown until you have the hair along his crown pushed back. He responds positively to this, pushing himself further into your cunt until his nose is buried in your mound. His enthusiasm peaks, he has a burst of energy, and he starts to lap at you. He pushes your legs up and back, opening all of you up to him, and he devours. 

He’s messy and audible with it, switching between sliding around your entrance to going back to your clit. Every so often, he misses his target, but his recovery is quick, strong, and impressive. 

You want to tell him to slip a finger in you, but the words refuse to find your tongue. They float aimlessly and uselessly around in your head, evading the hand that attempts to grab them. Instead, you grip his hair, push him down while you push your hips up, and Willy takes the direction as a hint to force his tongue in you. It’s unexpected, but it feels so good. You’re nodding and moaning far too loud. 

“Yes, yes, right there, Willy. Don’t stop, please.” 

It’s a little counterproductive and ironic when he briefly stops to assure you that he won’t stop, but the sentiment is still there. His nose nudges at your clit as his head bobs with the movement of his tongue working in and out of you. The combination has you close, and closer, and closer, until … 

Your legs close around Willy’s head and your hips cant up towards his mouth while one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had takes over you. It surely has to be a combination of your recent celibacy, your feelings for the chocolatier between your legs, and the sweet candy still taking over your system. And you’re so thankful for each aspect as your thighs continue to tremble and you struggle to catch your breath. 

Willy doesn’t seem to notice your struggle. He continues his work in the same place and with the same amount of determination, undeterred by your thighs pressed against his ears. He has accepted the position, resting his hands on the outside of your thighs and rubbing his palms up and down your skin. It’s almost too much, and you’re just about to tell him as such whenever you feel the beginnings of another orgasm creeping up your spine. 

You debate your options: letting this orgasm taper off or letting it exist, and you can’t come to a conclusion before your body is making it for you. 

Willy has switched back to your clit for this one, pink lips puckered around the bud as he sucks and licks and even nips every so often. Finally, he pushes a finger into you, just one but the rough pad of the digit massaging the top of your walls is enough for your head to throw back and your mouth to open in a silent shout as your toes point and your back curls. And soon after you’ve gone through this orgasm, you go limp and simply exist, shockingly thankful when he takes his mouth away from you. 

“You taste good,” is the first thing he tells you. His lips and the surrounding area glisten. His overindulgence is obvious on both of your bodies. 

You hum, trying to come back to. 

“Do you want a taste?” He’s already rising to your lips when he asks it, and you wouldn’t have said no anyway. You kiss him gratefully, but lazily, letting his tongue slip into your mouth without much reciprocation on your end as you’re not wanting the flavor as much as you’re just wanting him. Thankfully, Willy doesn’t seem to mind. 

Remaining lazy on top, you use your hands below Willy’s waistband to lightly palm his cock. When you find what you’re looking for, another boner stuffed in his trousers, you start to undo his pants. 

When you pull his cock out of his boxers, you momentarily forget about his moment of weakness earlier. The mix of dry and wet cum around him doesn’t bother you, and you momentarily have the thought to clean him up with your mouth. You don’t get to act on it before Willy speaks. 

“I should get protection.” 

Your eyebrows lift. “Do you have any?” 

When Willy nods enthusiastically, as if he’s proud to own condoms, your heart thuds painfully behind your throat. It makes sense that Willy would have slept with someone who wasn’t you, but that doesn't make it sting any less. 

You watch him, anticipating him to stand and walk away to grab a condom. Instead, he reaches under the couch cushion, searching for a second, and pulls out a metal tin. You go to ask him about the location, your lips already forming the question whenever he answers it for you. 

“Just in case.” His lips pull into a thin smile. 

Is Willy really that desired that he keeps condoms stashed around his apartment? You wonder where else they are, and how often he gets to use them. 

(Unbeknownst to you, it’s not very often at all. The locations are picked simply as a trait of overplanning and born from his hopefulness.)

In no time, Willy has the condom slipped over his dick and his tip nudges at your entrance. You’ve laid on the floor beside the couch, your back pressing into the rug you’d helped him buy not too long ago. When his tip is kissing your entrance, he stops there, eyes raising to meet yours for a second. You don’t know exactly what he’s waiting for, but you give him a curt nod anyway and that seems to do the trick. He pushes forward slowly and you don’t know if it’s for your benefit or his, for he shudders as soon as his tip breaches your entrance and you hiss and he continues to introduce more and more of his length. 

You didn’t get a good look at him before allowing him to enter you, so you go on feeling alone. He’s thicker than you would have imagined, with more veins than you would have thought, too. The condom shields more than you would have liked, but safety is the most important thing here, even though your amplified brain tells you that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a kid with Willy. You’ve seen him interact with children before, and the thought would sometimes find you late at night, or during moments like now. But before you can dwell on it any longer, you push it away as Willy sinks more length into you. 

You try to be patient and breathe through it all. When Willy finally stops, you think you’ve reached the end. But then he moves a little more and apologizes when you groan exasperatedly. 

“Almost there. I promise.” Just a few more seconds, and some impossible inches later, and Willy is finally nestled completely within you, deeper than you anticipated. 

You’re unresponsive under him, your eyes blinking at the ceiling and your lips parted. From an outside perspective, it looks like you don’t have a single thought behind your eyes. When really, it’s the complete opposite. Your thoughts are taking over every bit of your being, echoing the same phrase in an exclamation: It’s finally happening! 

He’s not moving yet, but even this feels heavenly. You’re so full, fuller than you’ve been in a while. Willy’s combination of length and girth is something you’ve never had before and you worry that after this dream completes, you might never have it again. You’ll forever be an addict chasing a high you won’t ever achieve again. 

But that’s for you to worry about afterwards. 

Willy has his head hung low above you, his hands pressed into the rug beside your head. His hips are flush with yours, still unmoving, but he’s breathing heavily above you. Labored, almost. 

In an attempt to be soothing, you rake your hands through his hair. He shakes against you and lets out a sound that is a combination between a gasp and a moan. It’s so pretty that you want him to do it again, so you repeat your motion. It doesn’t get your intended reaction until you pull on the thinner hairs at the back of his head, and then he makes the sound again and gives you your first thrust. 

After that, he doesn’t stop. You don’t think he can. 

His thrusts are clearly unpracticed, which qualms your worry about Willy sleeping with someone other than you (not that it matters or anything). You don’t know if he gets the hang of it, or if it’s just pure luck, because after a short while he improves. 

He starts rolling his hips instead of just moving them back and forth. He angles them a little, likely something accidental but it works, and you push your legs into his side to keep him there. He’s finally lifted his head, but his eyes are closed while he feels it. He’s deep in you still, his thrusts are a little shallow as they reach for your cervix and this alone makes you shudder. It’s a slightly unusual feeling for you, which makes it all the more alluring. You encourage him to keep going through unfinished sentences, and he praises you for how good you feel in between your words. You both are speaking at the same time, not exactly listening to the other and creating a concoction of words. 

“You feel so good. I can’t believe this is happening. Thank you, thank you, thank you …”

“Right there, Willy. Right there. Yes! Keep going, please. Don’t stop …” 

It’s no surprise to you when he cums first. He warns you before it happens, his words are a little shameful when he admits it. “I’m close. I’m not gonna last.” 

You tell him to let go anyway and when he does, it’s such a pretty sight. Earlier today, he was behind you when he did this, and you weren’t graced with his face. But now that you are, you kick yourself for missing it before. 

He’s so pretty. 

His pink lips swollen and open. His dark eyebrows pushed together. His eyes closed. His curls hang over his forehead. But the small features in his face is what makes the picture so pretty. All of the tiny muscles working together, minute in nature, but joining to create a painted canvas that you want to either save or see as many times as possible. 

This orgasm lasts long enough for him to pull you in it with him. He’s still cumming into the condom, providing a warmth that’s so close but so far inside of you. His thrusts are strong and constant, even though the rhythm of them is off and unpredictable. But each time his crotch presses into yours, nudging against your clit, and after enough times you’re letting go too, allowing whatever your orgasm wants to bring work its way through your body. 

Here, like this, it’s a beautiful, harmonious scene. You exist together like this, and not just together. It’s a bliss and a level of intimacy you’ve always dreamed of, and you want to sit in it for as long as you can. Apparently, you both do. 

Willy doesn’t move even whenever both of your bodies are limp. He holds his weight off of you on his forearms, but his head is resting between your breasts and along your stomach. He sits like that for a minute before rising, shakily pulling out of you, and then laying beside you. 

You speak first. 

“D’you think we should try to sell those chocolates?” 

Willy laughs weakly. “Valentine’s day special?” 

You hum, your eyes glancing down to where Willy has rested a hand on your stomach. The appendage sits there, unmoving, for a second, and when you don’t protest, he begins to draw indistinguishable shapes along your skin. 

Answering your question without humor, he says, “No. I think we would keep it between us. If that’s okay.” 

The way he says us has undertones attached to it, creating more weight than the two-letter word would usually have. You like the way he says it. 

You turn your head to look at him, already finding him looking at you. For the first time, your skin flushes at the thought and you feel giddy. A little embarrassed, too. The aphrodisiacs must be wearing off and the confidence with it. 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” A moment passes. Then, “But I don’t remember the recipe so don’t hold it to me.” 

Willy laughs with a little more enthusiasm this time and you return it. 

“Should we get cleaned up? Maybe have some dinner?” 

You nod, leaning in towards his lips. When you kiss him, he tastes like strawberry flavored chocolate. Well, underneath the distinct bitterness of your arousal he does.

[redvexillum]

A/N: Hoe, Hoe, Hoe! Happy Holidays, folks! Can you believe it? We've made it to Day 25, and there's just one more story left before Smutmas officially comes to a close! This story is particularly special to me because it's a direct sequel to one of my very first ventures outside my comfort zone—Off Script—where I took on the challenge of writing Alastor as a sub. I really hope you all enjoy it! I did my best to keep him in character, so fingers crossed it hits the mark. And finally—Kit, let’s both finish Smutmas tomorrow with a… bang!

SUMMARY: Alastor thought he was being clever when he snuck extra spices into your gingerbread mix, but his bratty antics had consequences he clearly wasn’t prepared for. As sweet as you usually are, you’re also a master of dominance, and tonight, Alastor learns exactly what that means.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, pleasure dom! reader, bratty sub! alastor, alastor has a tail, oral sex, overstimulation, pegging, anal plug, aftercare, p in v, fluffy-wuffy, no ANGST (because people be thinking I'm writing angstmas??? >:U)

The first time you broached the topic of introducing your particular interests in the bedroom to Alastor, it did not go as planned. In fact, it spiralled into an entirely unforeseen direction. He veered off script, revealing an unexpected side of himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something that honestly shouldn’t have been too surprising: Alastor was, perhaps, the most delightfully bratty submissive you had ever encountered. 

At first, you had been hesitant, cautious even, testing the waters with a delicate touch. You started slow, pinning his wrists above his head while straddling him, your slick folds gliding teasingly along the hard length of his cock. His body was tense beneath you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to remain still. And yet, you could see it—the flicker of amusement, the glint of curiosity, and the unspoken challenge in his ruby eyes. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice a mix of feigned irritation and genuine arousal, “you do realize I am the one in control here.” 

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Oh, of course, love. It’s all for you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with honeyed submission, knowing full well how the words would stoke his ego. 

That balance—teasing the line between control and surrender—was crucial with Alastor. He was willing to explore these new dynamics with you as long as he felt the game was his to win. Over time, these intimate games deepened your connection, building trust in a way neither of you had anticipated. 

It was in these moments of play that you discovered just how much he enjoyed being edged. He saw it as a competition, a challenge, and every false word of bravado he muttered only made you more determined. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted one evening, his hands tied above his head as you licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. His body betrayed him, trembling with the effort of restraint even as he smirked. 

“Oh, you’ll see what I’ve got,” you replied sweetly, revelling in the sharp gasp that escaped him as you abruptly stopped, leaving him throbbing and desperate. 

In time, Alastor even began to participate in choosing the tools for your escapades. When you brought out a selection of dildos, he would inspect them with a meticulousness that was almost comical, tilting his head and tapping his chin as though he were selecting fine wine. 

“That one,” he’d say with a grin, pointing to the one you knew he loved. And when you took your time with him, thrusting the toy deep into his ass while your lips wrapped around his cock, he would surrender so completely it left you breathless. His body would go slack, his head tilting back as he moaned your name, every line of tension melting away. In those moments, he was utterly yours, and the vulnerability he showed was nothing short of beautiful. 

But, as you learned, this came with its own set of challenges. 

Take the time you had decided to edge him for hours as “punishment” for one of his pranks—spiking your tea with a hellpeppers just to see your reaction. He had whimpered, begged, and finally come undone in a way that left him breathless. But instead of deterring him, it only seemed to spur him on. From that day forward, his pranks became more frequent, each one more mischievous than the last, as though he were daring you to make good on your “punishments.” 

Like today. 

You had been looking forward to baking gingerbread cookies, humming softly to yourself as you worked. But when you took a bite of the first batch, you nearly gagged. The sweetness was overwhelmed by a fiery burn that made your eyes water. Whirling around, you saw him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, his signature grin stretching impossibly wide. 

“Alastor!” you snapped, pointing accusingly at the tray of ruined cookies. “Did you do this?” 

His laugh was a low, melodic hum, a sound that made your skin tingle. “Why, my dear, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” he replied, though his twitching nose and barely contained snicker betrayed him. 

You narrowed your eyes, stalking toward him as he took a step back, his grin faltering just slightly. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” you said, your voice syrupy sweet and laced with intent. 

The sharp click of your teeth echoed in the quiet kitchen as you fought to rein in the rising tide of frustration. Your eye twitched, your hands curling into fists at your sides as you surveyed the latest in a string of sabotages. The day had started with a simple enough task: helping Charlie decorate the hotel with festive holiday cheer. It should have been done in two hours. Two. Instead, six gruelling hours later, you were still at it, thanks to Alastor’s relentless interference. 

Like a mischievous shadow, he’d been everywhere, undoing your progress with a gleeful flourish, all while flashing that infuriating grin. 

Now, staring at the ruined cookie dough—a batch you’d painstakingly mixed, rolled, and shaped—your patience finally hit its breaking point. The thought of starting over from scratch, gathering ingredients, kneading dough, and baking again made your stomach churn. 

But just as you were about to storm off searching for a quiet space to collect yourself, something stopped you. 

The faintest movement caught your eye—the way the back of Alastor’s coat fluttered as he turned, the eager, almost expectant glint in his eyes as he glanced your way. 

And then it hit you. 

The realization came as a sharp pang of guilt. Between the influx of new sinners at the hotel, Charlie’s relentless schedule of events, and your constant involvement in helping out, you’d been neglecting Alastor. It hadn’t been intentional, but you couldn’t deny it either. Months had passed where you’d barely seen him outside of fleeting interactions, let alone shared any meaningful moments together. Even the intimacy of the bedroom had been replaced by nights spent alone in your own room. 

You sighed softly, the frustration in your chest shifting into something else—understanding, perhaps even regret. Of course, Alastor, with his peculiar ways, wouldn’t simply say he missed you. That wasn’t his style. No, this was his way of communicating, as exasperating as it was endearing. 

Walking toward him, your demeanour softened. Your fingers grazed lightly down the front of his chest, the movement enough to draw his attention. His grin faltered for just a moment as you spoke, your voice low and soft. 

“I’m going to my room,” you murmured, offering no further explanation as you turned and walked away. You didn’t need to look back to know he would follow. 

By the time you stepped into your room, the shadows shifted, and Alastor materialized before you with his usual dramatic flair. 

“Already, darling?” he chimed, his tone as jovial as ever. “Oh, I pity poor Charlie for hiring someone who can’t manage such a simple task,” he teased, his grin widening as he prodded at your lingering frustration. 

But this time, instead of rising to his bait, you smirked. Slowly, deliberately, you closed the distance between you, your eyes never leaving his. His playful expression faltered, just slightly, as you leaned in, resting your head against his chest. 

“I’m so disappointed, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice carrying a softness that belied the weight of your words. His body stiffened beneath your touch, and a shiver ran through him as your fingers deftly began to unbutton his shirt. 

“You’ve been so bad these last few weeks,” you continued, each syllable dripping with quiet reprimand. 

Alastor’s breath hitched as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, exposing his skin to the dim light of your room. “Oh, that’s what I do best,” he quipped, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying the bravado in his words. 

With a gentle push, he stumbled back onto the bed, his legs spreading instinctively as he leaned back on his arms. His cock twitched, already hardening, as he watched you climb onto him with methodical slowness. 

“And what will you do about it, darling?” he goaded, his tone laced with challenge. 

“Well,” you mused, straddling him without letting a single inch of your body touch his, “I suppose it’s only fair that I receive my recompense.” 

Your fingers traced the sharp lines of his face, moving with tenderness that made him shudder beneath you. His grin faltered, his composure slipping as you let your touch wander downward. Your nails ghosted over his chest, tracing patterns against his skin, stopping just shy of his now achingly hard cock. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. 

“Patience,” you whispered, a smirk playing at your lips as you leaned in closer. “After all, you’ve been so bad—surely you understand the importance of a little... delay.” 

Alastor’s eyes burned with equal parts anticipation and defiance, but he made no move to stop you. For once, he was entirely at your mercy, and you intended to savour every moment. 

“Since you love to play around so much,” you murmured, your gaze locking onto his piercing crimson eyes, “let’s playtogether, Al.” 

Your words were honeyed, teasing, as your fingers finally wrapped firmly around the thick shaft of his cock. His breath hitched audibly, and for a fleeting moment, his ever-present grin wavered. That alone was victory enough, but you weren’t finished. Leaning in, you let your lips ghost over his, so close that your breath mingled with his. 

“Hours, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice dripping with promise. “I’ll play with you for hours.” 

The effect was immediate. His eyes fluttered closed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. The usual bravado he wore like a mask began to crack under the slow, deliberate stroke of your hand. You could feel the way he melted into your touch, his body responding with a shiver as the tension in him ebbed away. 

He no longer held back, no longer stifled the sounds he made or the soft confessions of what felt good beneath your touch. It had taken time, patience, and trust to reach this point, where he no longer masked his vulnerability in shame but surrendered to it with you. 

You pressed your other hand to his chest, urging him back, and he complied without resistance, lying against the bed as you worked him with skilled hands. His cock throbbed hot and heavy in your grasp, silken beneath your palm as you pumped it with slow, deliberate strokes. 

“D-Darling,” he breathed out, his voice trembling, his head falling back as his hips began to roll against your hand. His moans started low, rising in pitch as his body grew more desperate, his movements frantic in his chase for release. 

You matched his urgency, your hand moving faster, guiding him closer to the edge. His foreskin slid over the glossy tip of his cock, only to be drawn back down, exposing the glistening head with each thrust. The slick sounds of your motions filled the room, mingling with his erratic breaths and soft cries. 

“Darling, darling!” he cried out, his hips canting forward one last time before his release overtook him. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted his chest, streaking his skin with creamy lines. His breath came in heavy, uneven pants as his body trembled in the aftershocks of pleasure. A haze of satisfaction clouded his crimson eyes, but beneath it, you saw the flicker of anticipation. He knew this wasn’t over. 

Your fingers lazily dipped into the sticky warmth of his release, swirling through it before lifting to your lips. Your tongue darted out, tasting him with a soft hum of appreciation. “Mmm, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Al?” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss to the oversensitive tip of his cock. He jolted, his hips bucking instinctively at the sudden contact. 

“You haven’t been finding release without me, have you?” you asked, your voice sweet but laced with mischief. 

“Hah!” His laugh was strained, tinged with his usual bravado as he tried to recover some semblance of control. “Please, darling, I can hold myself back just fine,” he quipped, though his eyes darted away, betraying him. 

“Is that so?” you murmured, your tone light and teasing. Without warning, you leaned down, engulfing his still-soft cock with your mouth. 

Alastor hissed sharply, his claws sinking into the bedsheets as you drew back his foreskin with your lips, swirling your tongue over his sensitive head. His body jerked beneath you, trembling as overstimulation began to set in. 

“Ah, d-darling,” he panted, his voice shaky, the usual radio-filtered crackle distorted by the raw edge of his cries. “A-ah, ah!” His cock twitched weakly in your mouth, his body entirely at your mercy. 

You didn’t relent, your tongue working over him with precision, coaxing out every last tremor of pleasure you could draw from him. His head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, as his hands fisted the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, his voice breaking as he moaned your name again and again. 

But you remained attuned to him, careful to read the signals of his body. Alastor, ever stubborn, would never admit when pleasure teetered on the edge of too much, and you wouldn’t let him push past his limits. For you, his pleasure was your greatest reward, the sight of him unravelling before you igniting a heat in your core that left you clenching and aching with need. 

Still, you slowed your ministrations, pulling back just enough to let him breathe, to bask in the blissful haze that softened his sharp edges. His trembling body told you everything his words wouldn’t—that he trusted you completely, in this and in everything else. 

The moment his thighs began to tremble, instinctively closing around your head, you knew it was time to stop. With a calculated precision, your lips tightened into a seal around his cock, sucking deeply one last time before pulling back. His length slipped free with a loud, wet pop, leaving him quivering and gasping beneath you. 

Alastor's abdomen fluttered with each shallow breath, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to gather himself. A thin sheen of sweat coated his pale skin, catching the soft light and accentuating the slight tremor that rippled through him. His crimson eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared blankly at the ceiling, his usual composure nowhere to be found. 

Your gaze softened as you admired the rare vulnerability etched into his features, but a spark of mischief flickered in your chest. Leaning forward, you dragged your tongue languidly along your middle and index fingers, wetting them thoroughly before trailing them downward. When you pressed the slick pads of your fingers against the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. 

His sharp intake of breath was followed by a low, trembling moan as his crimson eyes flicked downward, meeting yours. That familiar grin of his began to reappear, albeit strained, but you matched it with one of your own. Slowly, deliberately, you worked your fingers inside, the tight, hot walls clenching around you as you sank deeper. 

“Ohhh,” he moaned, his voice pitching higher as his hips began an instinctive, grinding motion against your hand. Each stroke and press of your fingers sent shockwaves through his body, and you couldn’t help but relish the way he cried out your name, breathless and desperate. 

“Is this what you missed, Alastor?” you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry amusement. The heat pooling between your thighs was almost unbearable now, your soaked underwear clinging to your skin. You punctuated your question with feather-light kisses along the sensitive curve of his balls, earning another full-body shudder from him. 

“D-don’t be ridiculous,” he managed to huff out, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his bravado. His hips bucked against your hand, seeking more, needing you to go harder, deeper, faster. “You—hah—you’re the one who seems to need it more than I do!” 

His words faltered into a broken cry as you curled your fingers inside him, pressing directly against his prostate. The reaction was instant—his cock, already half-hard, twitched violently before stiffening completely, precum dripping steadily from the swollen tip. Thin, sticky strands pooled on his stomach, glistening in the dim light. 

“I-I c-can smell you,” he groaned, his voice cracking with static as the radio distortion flickered uncontrollably. “I can s-smell your arousal, d-darling.” 

His eyes fluttered as he struggled to focus on you, the effort clear in the way his brows furrowed, and his lips parted with ragged breaths. You smiled wickedly, never ceasing the relentless rhythm of your fingers as you leaned in close. 

“Is that your way of saying you want me to ride you, Alastor?” you teased, your tone saccharine sweet, as you slowly withdrew your fingers. 

The way his ears flattened against his head and his lips pressed together to smother the pitiful whine that escaped him was nothing short of endearing. You straightened up, locking to his gaze as your hands moved to peel away your clothing. 

One by one, the layers fell away, revealing more of your heated skin to him. Alastor’s crimson eyes darkened with unrestrained hunger, his slender fingers flying to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he devoured the sight of you. The moment your panties slid down your legs, his attention zeroed in on the dark, damp patch that clung to the fabric. 

The sight of how soaked they were made his breath hitch. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes quickening ever so slightly as he watched you stand before him, completely bare, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

Picking up your damp underwear, you held it delicately between your fingers, bringing it close to Alastor’s face. His eyes, smouldering with unrestrained hunger, followed the movement intently. A sly grin curled your lips as you whispered, “Go on. I know you’ve been dying to taste me.” 

In the past, he would have resisted—an adamant refusal to entertain such a base desire. But now? Now, his restraint was a distant memory. He eagerly took the fabric from your hand, his sharp grin widening as he pressed it to his lips. His tongue darted out, licking and suckling on the soaked material, his moans vibrating softly into the delicate fabric. He savoured every drop, his eyes fluttering shut as if lost in your essence. 

While he indulged, you turned your attention to the drawer by the bed, fingers searching for a specific item. A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled out the toy you’d been looking for—one of his favourites. The memory of the day he wore it, the secret only the two of you shared as he moved through the hotel with it snug inside him, made heat rush to your cheeks. 

The anal plug, adorned with curvy ridges and capped with a glittering pink heart at its base, glinted in the low light. Alastor froze mid-lick, his gaze snapping to the toy. His tail, which had been lazily swaying, thumped excitedly against the bed. 

You teased him further, holding his gaze as you slowly lowered the plug to your wet core. You pressed the tip to your entrance, coating the ridges in your slick. Alastor’s breath hitched, and a groan slipped past his lips as he watched you pump the toy in and out of yourself, each movement deliberate, each moan of yours feeding his anticipation. 

By the time you pulled the toy free, glistening and dripping with your arousal, Alastor had already lifted his legs, spreading them wide to present himself. His sharp grin turned expectant, almost demanding, his crimson eyes glinting with challenge and desire. 

You chuckled at his eagerness, running your free hand along the curve of his thigh. “Patience, darling,” you murmured. He squirmed beneath you, his cock twitching against his stomach as you pressed the slick plug against his entrance. Slowly, you began to work it in, the ridges catching slightly against his tight walls before sliding deeper, inch by inch. 

Alastor’s breath came out in stuttering gasps, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as the plug seated itself fully to the base. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum trailing down to pool on his stomach. He looked utterly wrecked, his body trembling and his chest heaving as he adjusted to the sensation of fullness. 

But you weren’t done. Without giving him a moment to recover, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing length and guiding him to your entrance. In one fluid motion, you sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt. His reaction was instant—a sharp gasp, his hands flying to your hips as his back arched off the bed before collapsing again. 

The tight heat of you gripping him drove him wild. His cock twitched inside you, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through both your bodies. But your focus wasn’t on his body—it was on his expression. His usually sharp grin softened, his crimson eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. His body trembled beneath yours, the rare vulnerability in him stirring a possessive warmth in your chest. 

He hummed low in his throat, a sound of pure, unfiltered delight, as you leaned forward. Pinning his wrists beside his head, you met his gaze, your movements slow at first. Each roll of your hips elicited a delicious tremor from him, his breath climbing with every downward thrust. 

“Y-you’re i-insatiable, d-darling,” he managed, his voice trembling as your pace quickened. 

You smiled wickedly, increasing the rhythm, the sound of skin meeting skin mingling with his stuttering breaths and deep moans. His sharp cries soon gave way to something softer, more desperate, as his body began to tense beneath you. His head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck as his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Look at me, Alastor,” you commanded softly, and his gaze snapped back to yours. The raw, unguarded desire and faint embarrassment in his expression sent a thrill through you. His cries grew louder, his hands flexing against your grip as he reached his peak. 

With one final, broken moan, his body shuddered violently beneath yours, his cock twitching as he spilled into you. The hot flood of his release filled you, his seed coating your walls as he gasped for air. His body remained taut for a moment before he melted into the bed, utterly spent, his eyes glazed with lingering satisfaction. 

Catching your breath, your body hummed with unresolved need, but it didn’t matter. Watching Alastor surrender beneath you, unravelling with every calculated touch, was pleasure enough. 

His lips were parted, a thin line of saliva glistening at the corners as his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. The edges of his crimson eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his expression—dazed, undone—was utterly intoxicating. His usual composed veneer had crumbled, leaving him bare in every sense. 

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you finally lifted yourself from his trembling form, feeling the warm trickle of his release sliding down your thighs. “We’re not done yet, Al,” you teased, your voice carrying a sing-song lilt. “We still have one more of your favourites, remember?” Reaching for the strap-on, you held it up—a big, crimson silicone cock gleaming in the dim light, its impressive weight resting heavy in your hands. 

You caught the way his body tensed, his tail twitching in anticipation, but there were no sharp remarks, no coy retorts. He was beyond that now, surrendering completely. With a sluggish roll, he shifted onto his stomach, his cheek pressing into the bed as his hips lifted, presenting himself to you. His red-and-white tail puffed out and flicked upward, revealing the sparkling jewel of the heart-shaped plug still nestled snugly within him. 

“Good boy,” you purred, and his tail wagged weakly in response. His fingers reached back, spreading himself open, stretching his cheeks taut in a silent plea. 

You smiled, strapping the harness to your hips, the familiar weight grounding you in this moment. Slowly, deliberately, you began easing the plug from his entrance. Each inch coaxed a muffled whimper from him as he buried his face in the mattress, his body trembling beneath your hands. The resistance gave way, and with a final tug, the jewelled plug slid free, leaving his entrance clenching and exposed. 

The sight of him, so open, so needy, sent a surge of heat pooling low in your core. You rested a hand on his hips, guiding the slicked synthetic cock to his waiting entrance. Without hesitation, you thrust forward in one fluid motion, burying yourself to the hilt. 

Alastor choked on a cry, his body jolting forward before he melted into the bed, a low, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His claws raked over the blankets, shredding the fabric in a desperate bid for control. 

But there was none to be had—not here, not now. 

You set a relentless rhythm, your hips snapping forward with precision, filling him over and over. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with his muffled cries and the breathless moans you couldn’t suppress. The way his body clenched around you, his walls tightening with every thrust, only spurred you on. 

“Ah—ah—darling,” he panted, his voice breaking into a mix of static and white noise as pleasure overwhelmed him. His body arched beneath you, his hips rolling back to meet your thrusts with desperation. 

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your breath hot against his ear. “Being filled so completely… You’re so beautiful like this, Al.” 

His only response was a shattered moan, his body spasming violently as he came again, thick ropes of his release painting the ruined bed beneath him. But even as his trembling form sagged into the mattress, you didn’t stop. 

“Isn’t this fun, Alastor?” you panted, your grin wicked as you leaned over him, your pace unrelenting. “I could do this all night.” 

His claws curled into the shredded fabric, his body shaking with overstimulation as he gasped and whimpered beneath you. He was utterly wrecked, undone, every piece of him yours in this moment—and it was everything you had missed. 

Your hands slid to either side of his trembling frame, hovering over him as you moved with deliberate intensity. His voice had dissolved into a symphony of broken moans and guttural grunts, his ears pinned flat against his head in a rare display of vulnerability. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you purred, “Let me see your face, Al. Don’t rob me of my pleasure.” Your fingertips traced the back of his head, the touch tender yet insistent. 

He shivered at your words, slowly turning his head to meet your gaze. His lips hung open, strands of saliva pooling beneath his cheek. His crimson eyes, distant and unfocused, shimmered with tears that spilled in streaks down his flushed cheeks. And yet, despite his unravelling, the faint trace of a grin lingered—a testament to his unyielding spirit. 

“More?” you asked, voice laced with teasing affection. Alastor’s only reply was a low, ragged moan as his hips pressed back against you, silently pleading. A soft chuckle escaped you as your fingers danced down the curve of his spine, drawing a visible shudder from him. “You really are a masochist, aren’t you, Al?” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper. 

When his moans faltered into silence, his teeth clenching as he fought to muffle the smallest of whimpers, you knew he’d reached his limit. Carefully, you slowed your movements, easing out of him with a touch as gentle as a whisper. Both of you were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, your breath coming in soft pants as you sat back. 

Alastor lay trembling, his body spent and quivering in the aftermath. Every so often, his legs would twitch, jolting with the lingering aftershocks of overstimulation. His hand reached out, trembling and seeking, and you didn’t hesitate to meet it, intertwining your fingers with his. The silent gesture spoke volumes—his need for your warmth, your gentleness, your grounding presence. 

With care, you removed the strap-on, setting it aside before sliding into the bed beside him. Your body folded seamlessly into his, your hand cradling his as you pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. His half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, filled with exhaustion and unspoken affection, unable to look away. 

Smiling softly, you lifted his hand, your lips brushing over each finger with reverence. One by one, you kissed his thumb, his index finger, trailing your touch over his palm. The gesture was unhurried, filled with tenderness, as you snuggled closer to him, your lips finding the curve of his shoulder. 

A warm chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his voice soft and worn. “Darling,” he rasped, his tone laden with affection as his tail gave a lazy thump against the bed. He sighed deeply, basking in the featherlight kisses that travelled up his neck and over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyelids—all received your gentle attention before your lips finally found his. 

The kiss lingered, a soft press of emotion and intimacy. When you pulled back, his voice, though hoarse, carried a familiar teasing lilt. “You’ve been far too busy this month,” he murmured, his crimson eyes slowly opening to meet yours. 

Your heart swelled, warmed by the rare vulnerability in his gaze. You smoothed back a stray strand of hair from his face, your fingers brushing his skin with care. “I have, haven’t I?” you answered softly. Your lips curved in a tender smile as you leaned down to kiss him again, the touch light, barely there. “I missed you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice thick with sincerity. 

He chuckled again, though it was tired and weak. “And yet, you chastise me about your cookies,” he teased, his grin slipping back into place. 

“Ruining my cookies,” you corrected with a mock glare, your tone playful. 

“You love it when I spice up your – ah – cookies,” he countered, his voice carrying a faint echo of words he’d said long ago—a callback to the early days of trust and intimacy you’d built together. 

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with affection for the cunning, mischievous demon you adored. “You’re such a silly man,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his. 

His arms came around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was a comforting reminder of the unspoken bond you shared. In that quiet moment, you held each other close, the world beyond forgotten. Only the warmth of his body and the soft hum of his love remained. 

“And you, my darling, are my special girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender caress against the quiet of the room. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips warm and soft. Slowly, his breathing steadied, each exhale becoming longer, deeper, until it melted into the gentle rhythm of sleep. 

You stayed there, cradled in his embrace, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as your fingers traced small, absent-minded patterns along his side. The warmth of his words lingered in your heart, a balm to the chaos and distance of recent days. 

As you listened to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, you made a silent promise to yourself. Next time, you’d find ways to give him the attention he deserved, to show him how much he meant to you—perhaps even preempt whatever mischievous “spicing up” he might dream up to draw your focus. 

For now, though, your heart felt full, brimming with love and contentment. Snuggling closer to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth, your body fitting perfectly against his. The steady cadence of his heart matched your own, the two rhythms intertwining as if they were always meant to be. 

You closed your eyes, a peaceful smile lingering on your lips. Wrapped in his arms, you let sleep claim you, your dreams filled with the love you shared and the quiet promise of all the moments yet to come. 

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[zegrasdrysdale]

Morning wood with EE73?? Please and thank you 🩷

[ good morning to you too ] e. edwards

➾ paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

➾ summary : friends become lovers when an awkward moment turns into a morning of passion

➾ warning(s) : smut !! morning wood, fingering, soft morning sex, unprotected p in v sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), nicknames during sex, a single use of “y/n”

➾ author’s note : this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then i got carried away and it’s now 90% smut and 10% plot (oops)

༺═──────────────═༻

Her entire body slowly wakes up from head to toe when she wakes from her light sleep. At first she feels nothing as she comes out of her sleep, then she slowly begins to feel something poking the back of her thigh. She’s very quick to realize that it’s Ethan’s dick that’s poking her. She remains very still so she doesn’t cause anything to happen. Especially since he’s already moving a little bit.

Then the worst case scenario happens. Ethan mumbles her name in his sleep. It’s her nickname that only he calls her.

She moves quickly but hopefully carefully out of bed to avoid what will be a very embarrassing moment for the both of them.

What she thought was graceful was really not. She ends up scrambling out of bed and falls to the ground. Ethan wakes up and looks over the side of the bed.

“Uh, good morning to you too?” he says, phrasing it like a question. “Why did you decide to fall out of bed?”

She stares up at him. “You have, um …” she trails off. “A problem. It poked me. I was trying to leave you to take care of it but ended up falling out of bed.” And you said my name remains unsaid.

That’s territory that she’s not sure she wants to enter. It will change everything between them if she says it. She isn’t interested in ruining the most important friendship she has.

Ethan leans back to see what she means. She watches his cheeks turn tomato red from the ground. “Oh shit,” he gasps. “I am so sorry. I didn’t- this rarely happens. It would happen when you sleep over. I-”

“You can’t control it,” she interrupts. “It’s natural. I’ll just leave and go make breakfast so you can take care of it.”

As she stands up, she realizes that between her thighs is damp and there’s a pit in the bottom of her stomach like she’s turned on. She presses her lips into a tight line and crosses one leg over the other to put some pressure on her core.

Yeah, this is super embarrassing. She can’t believe that her body is betraying her like this.

“(Y/N), come here,” he orders.

“Ethan, I-”

“Come here, Sunny,” he tries again, this time with an emphasis on her nickname.

She remembers the day he started calling her Sunny.. It was their freshman year and she was having a bad day. They met in English 101 at nine in the morning. He noticed that she wasn’t having the best day and said to her, “Well, aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine.” She just glared at him not knowing that they were going to be the best of friends within the month.

Ethan called her ‘Sunshine’ for a few weeks until she got tired of it, so he shortened it to ‘Sunny’ right as Michigan went on winter break.

Clearly, he still uses it. It still makes her feel something. Especially now after she heard him moan her nickname in his sleep while he has morning wood.

The use of her nickname pulls her right to him. She sits with her legs crisscrossed on the side of the bed that she slept on. Her hands are folded on her lap to hide what’s probably a very obvious wet spot on the grey shorts she decided to wear to bed last night.

He sits up and lets the blankets fall to his waist. His hair is a complete mess since he’s just moving for the first time all morning. He quickly runs his hands through the mess to tame it before he turns his attention to his best friend.

“Do you trust me?” Ethan questions. She nods to answer his question. “I need you to use your words. I need to make sure that you trust me.”

“I trust you, E,” she tells him.

Ethan sighs and moves himself closer to her. He puts a hand on her knee and she sharply inhales. She looks at his hand before looking at his face. Their eyes meet and she immediately begins to relax.

This is Ethan Edwards. He wouldn’t do something if she didn’t want him to. She trusts him and he knows that.

He leans into her and claims her lips in a gentle kiss. She leans further into him and reciprocates the kiss. The pair test the waters between them as their relationship takes a turn she never thought would happen.

In the three years she’s known him, she’s wanted him. He had girlfriend after girlfriend or was hooking up with girls so she never got the chance to try anything with him. This is that chance.

The kiss deepens when Ethan brings his free hand up to cup her jaw. She allows herself to wrap one of her hands around his wrist so he doesn’t move his hand. She leans into the light touch. Her free hand slides into his hair so he doesn’t back away from her.

She finally has him and she doesn’t want to let him go. She also makes it a point not to rush anything. She lets Ethan take full control for the time being.

Her lips part and Ethan slips his tongue past them. She gasps as Ethan licks into her mouth. A soft hum follows.

His free hand drops to her waist and he pulls her closer to him. She throws one of her legs over his tights and straddles him over the blankets. She feels the bulge on her core through the covers.

Ethan lies down until he’s on his back with his head on the pillows. She follows him and her hair forms a curtain around their faces as the kiss quickens. One of Ethan’s hands pushes her hair back and she smiles into the kiss that follows. His other hand runs up and down her back slowly.

“Need you to do more, E,” she mumbles between kisses. “Please. Please.”

“You’ve never been patient, have you?” he teases. Ethan pulls back and meets her eyes. There’s a layer of lust that covers and darkens them.

“I’ve been patient enough,” she admits. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this to happen, Ethan.” He blinks at her. “So, I need you to stop taking this slow and do something. Anything, E.”

Almost like he’s been given permission to do anything he wants to her, which she basically has, Ethan flips them so she’s on her back and her hair forms a halo around her head on the pillows. She smiles and stares up at him.

Ethan kneels between her knees to pull off his Michigan hockey t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. She runs her hands from the waistband of his pajama pants up his chest. She traces his toned stomach and bites her lip. His hand fall to the bottom of her borrowed t-shirt and he dips his fingers underneath. She pulls the fabric up and off her body. His eyes fall to her naked upper body, and she doesn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze. She stares up at him as a finger runs from her lips and down her body until it reaches the waistband of her shorts.

Impatiently, she lifts her hips so Ethan can slide off her shorts. He smiles and hooks his fingers in her shorts. It isn’t long before he tugs them down and leaves her completely naked beneath him. Her legs drop to the side for him.

“Fuck, Sunny,” Ethan sighs as leans down to press little kisses to her stomach. “So beautiful. All for me. All mine. You’re all mine now.”

“I’m all yours,” she breathes out. “Please, Ethan.”

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures her. “I’ll take care of you.”

She feels one of his fingers run through her slick folds. It catches her off guard and she hums. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets her sense of touch take over. She runs her fingers through his hair.

One finger turns into two, and both his fingers push into her. She gasps and curls her fingers in his hair. Ethan begins to flick his wrist and curl his fingers inside her in a ‘come here’ motion. “Oh my- fuck, Ethan,” she groans.

He kisses the inside of her upper thigh. His movements speed up slightly and she’s a shaking mess underneath his touch.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip to stay quiet since she’s in a house full of hockey players. The last thing she or Ethan want right now is for them to be too loud and his teammates come knocking on the door or mess with him when he leaves the room. It takes everything in her to not scream his name when he adds a third finger while he continues the ‘come here’ motion.

A knot forms and immediately begins to tighten in her belly. Ethan crawls up her body so they’re face to face, but his fingers stay where they are.

“Ethan,” she pants. “E. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m close.”

He withdraws his finger as soon as the last word comes out of her mouth. She frowns and looks up at him as he licks her slick off of the three fingers that were inside of her. She could cum just from that, but she does her best to wait.

“My fingers aren’t going to be the thing that makes you cum, pretty Sunny,” Ethan tells her as he kneels between her legs. “Not this time when I have been waiting years to get inside of you.”

He pushes his pajama pants and boxers off his body. Her eyes widen slightly as his dick pops out of his boxers. She knows the stories that have been floating around campus so she’s aware how big he is and she saw how big his bulge was in his pants.

She might die today. She wasn’t prepared for all those stories and rumors to be true.

Ethan settles himself between her legs and leans down to hover over her. She stares up at him and feels his tip at her entrance.

“Last chance to stop,” Ethan tells her. “Tell me know if you don’t want this, Sunny.”

“I want this,” she assures him. “I want this more than you will ever know, Ethan. I want you. I need you.”

With her full permission, Ethan slowly pushes into her. She bites her bottom lip and hums as he fills her with his cock. Her back arches off the bed at the feeling. He pushes into her until he bottoms out.

He allows her to adjust to his size before he begins to roll his hips. Ethan starts slow before slowly speeding up every few thrusts. Her hums turn into moans as Ethan moves deeper into her.

She wants this moment to be never ending. She knows that now she can have him whenever she wants and she gets to re-live this moment, but she’ll never experience this moment again. This moment when she allowed herself to be with Ethan after denying herself for the longest time. She let herself be vulnerable with the guy she trusts the most in this world.

Their friendship has officially turned into something more, and she is excited to see where it goes. She’s dreamed of this for almost a year and a half when she realized she wanted to be more than friends with him at one of the hockey celebration parties after an important win.

This is a chance of a lifetime for her. To be with the only guy that she’s wanted for the past 18 months or so. This is it.

A loud moan passes her lips as Ethan throws one of her legs over his shoulder and moves as deep as he can at the new angle. He quickly leans down and kisses her to quiet her. The kiss is feverish from the start and she hums every time Ethan thrusts his hips into her. He keeps her from getting too loud and the moan slipped by.

Her arms are wrapped around his neck and her fingers are in his hair. The bed creaks with every thrust of Ethan’s hips.

Soon, Ethan’s lips are not enough to keep her quiet. Moans bubble from her throat as he rolls his hips as fast as he can while moving as deep as he can.

“Holy fuck, E,” she gasps. “I’m close. Wanna cum so bad. Please.”

Ethan hums. “‘m close too, pretty girl,” he tells her as he pulls back from the hot kiss. “Wanna cum with you.”

She throws her head back as Ethan hits her favorite spot over and over again. The knot threatens to come undone any second and she pants the closer she gets to her pending orgasm.

Her legs shake as she holds herself off. She can feel her walls clenching around Ethan and she’s at her limit.

“Ethan!” she cries out as she cums around his dick. “Oh my God. Fuck, E.”

Her breathing becomes extremely labored and her vision goes white as she releases. She is so out of it that she doesn’t feel Ethan pull out and cum on her thighs and stomach. Her head is in the clouds and it takes her a few minutes to come down.

It can’t get any better than that, right? Then she realizes that she hasn’t gotten his tongue and realizes it could get so much better than that.

When she comes back to reality, there’s a wet cloth on her stomach and thighs. She looks down and watches as Ethan cleans up his mess. He looks up at her and smiles. “Welcome back,” he teases.

“Your fault,” she retorts.

Ethan throws the cloth in the direction of his bathroom before he crawls next to her. He throws the blankets over the two of them before he lies on his side to look at her. His head rests on his hand and he holds himself up with his elbow. She reaches up to trace his jawline.

There are footsteps outside of Ethan’s door, signaling that someone is up. Hopefully they didn’t wake whoever it is up with their morning activities.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” Ethan questions. “I mean, that was really fucking good. I might need to go another round soon.”

“Don’t you have practice soon?”

He quickly flips over to grab his phone. “Oh, shit,” he gasps at the same time a knock rings throughout the room.

“Yo, Eddy!” Luca calls through the door. “You ready to go?”

She giggles as Ethan runs frantically around the room to find something to wear to practice. He makes a point to stop and leave a lingering kiss on her lips.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he tells her. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? Promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She nods in agreement and watches Ethan run out the door. Luca’s voice carries in the hall. “I didn’t want to interrupt you but we were gonna be late,” Luca says as the two of them walk away.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @naughty-box @memandi @alwaysclassyeagle @auriesphantom @thestarrynightslover

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: Inspired by this wonderful post. Thank you so much @tripthelightfandomtastic for some incredibly sexy dialogue and @edgingthedarkness for calling it to my attention 🤭

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. Jake x fem!reader / rough sex / sir kink / unprotected p in v sex / digital penetration / oral / brief overstimulation / use of gag / some name calling (brat, slut) / minor cock warming at the end / begging / possessiveness (nothing too major) / please let me know if I missed anything.

Apologies for any typos/ spelling mistakes.

Enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I need to sleep for at least 12 hours tonight.” Jake tells his twin, patting his pockets for his wallet to pay the bill. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Oh is that why you were being so pissy today?” Josh’s grin is smug as he finds his own wallet first and fishes his card out and tosses it onto the waiting bill before Jake can. “Makes sense.”

Jake’s eyes narrow and you fight a tiny smile, trying not to let your amusement show. Jake can be a little moody when he’s tired. And just… in general. 

“I’m the pissy one?” Jake counters, flicking Josh’s card off the bill and placing his own there instead. “I seem to be remembering things a little differently.” 

Jake’s tone is snarky – just a tiny bit more accusing than Josh’s had been. You already know that Jake had a… rough day today. He’d told you about it in the car – Josh had been demanding retake after retake and Sam had quote on quote, “disagreed with every fucking thing I said just for the hell of it.” In all honesty, knowing the Kiszkas, it had probably been all three of them being more difficult than necessary while Danny had to play mediator… Not that you’d said that to Jake. God, no. You’d only listened, allowing him to vent; nodded and frowned at the right moments. Clearly, tonight’s meal and a few drinks with Josh had done little to help Jake’s temper. 

Josh opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt. “I’m going to run to the restroom.” Both sets of matching eyes flash to you as you speak. Josh grins and Jake nods, sliding out of the booth to allow you to exit.  

In addition to his sour mood, Jake has been jittery the whole night. You’d noticed from the moment the two of you stepped into the bar that he had other things on his mind – whether it was a new song or riff or lyrics you couldn’t quite tell. But he was distracted. You know already how common it is that he grows restless, as if there’s so much energy buzzing beneath his skin that he’s hardly able to stand still. At first, it had almost been hard to be around when he got like this. His restlessness so palpable you could practically feel it coating your skin. At first, you would simply move to another room, allow him to sort himself out on his own. But after a little while, it became easier to tune him out – to still navigate around him when he gets like this. His aura has gravity of its own, you’ve come to discover. It’s hard to be apart from him for too long. 

He’ll deny it if you ask him if something is wrong. He’ll say he’s fine – that he’s not upset about today anymore and that he’s acting perfectly normal. So you don’t bother asking. Instead, you simply allow his energy to wash over you as you watch him interact with his twin at the booth. 

By the time you return, they seem to have momentarily put their little dispute on hold as they both turn to look at you as you approach the booth. 

“Are you ready, love?” Jake’s voice is smooth – neutral. Betraying nothing of the chaos that you know lies within. “We paid the bill while you were gone.” 

“Halfsies.” Josh supplies and Jake’s eyes cut to him for a moment before landing back on you. You nod, smiling at the two of them as they exit the booth in almost complete unison, each twin now holding himself in the exact same manner as the other as they prepare to leave. “It was nice actually getting to see you.” Josh continues as the three of you walk through the restaurant and to the door. “Jake always keeps you to himself when we’re home.”

Josh is teasing; you can tell by the slight dimple that has appeared on his left cheek as he speaks. But Jake tenses ever so slightly beside his twin as you all come to a stop on the sidewalk outside. The night air is warm – humid enough that it makes your skin feel sticky. The joys of a Tennessee summer. 

“He can be just a little selfish, I suppose.” You answer back, thinking nothing of it. But again, that energy around Jake seems to increase, his chocolate eyes flashing in the light spilling out into the air from inside the bar. 

“Am I not allowed to miss her when we leave?” Jake queries, slipping a heavy arm around your waist in such a way that it almost feels possessive. “Plus, I’m always stuck with you.” He says to his twin, grinning a little. “Who would blame me for wanting her to myself when we are home?”

Josh’s brow raises, a knowing glance shot towards you before he regards his twin. He senses Jake’s energy – the restlessness; senses that he could easily poke the bear and start a senseless argument that would no doubt descend into an actual fight. But he holds himself back, metaphorically biting his tongue as he gives Jake a little grin. 

“Can’t blame you at all, brother. Not at all.” His grin turns a little wicked. “But maybe you should share her more often – she was my friend first, afterall.”

So perhaps he hadn’t decided against poking the bear afterall. You fight the smile that threatens to overtake you, realizing that now might not be the time to pick sides by agreeing with Josh. He had been the one to know you first. He’d been the one to introduce you to Jake, even. But Jake needs no reminder of that little fact right now. 

“I see you plenty.” You offer, feeling the pointed squeeze of Jake’s fingers into your hip, “Plus, you constantly blow my phone up with texts. We talk plenty, Joshua.” 

Josh grins and shrugs his shoulders, looking pleased anyway. 

“Great seeing you.” Jake offers. “But I’m sick of you already.” 

Josh laughs, completely unaffected by his brother’s words. He’s used to it. He knows deep down Jake doesn’t mean them… too much.  

“Love you too, Jakey.” Josh grins at you – the exact same grin that Jake gave him just a moment ago. “Lovely to see you as always, Y/n. Hopefully someone lets me see you again before we leave.”

“I hope so, too.” You answer him, laughing just a little despite your best efforts.

Josh gives a theatrical sweeping bow before turning on his heel and disappearing to his Jeep, laughing the whole way. Jake scowls and tugs you away towards his own vehicle, that heavy arm still pointedly around your waist. 

He opens your door for you, a soft “Princess” leaving his lips as he dips his head a little. You grin and climb into the car and he closes the door behind you. 

Jake playing guitar is sinful. But Jake behind the wheel of a car? It’s downright indecent – something that no matter how many times you see it, it still gets you just a little. The thick muscles of his forearm twitch and move beneath his newly tan skin (thank you Europe tour) and the clench of his jaw as he watches the road has you clenching your thighs. To your credit, you only stare a little bit as he drives the two of you back to his house (His house, not yours. Something that once again feels pointed.) Neither of you speak much, the silence between the two of you just as comfortable as idle chit chat. Fleet Foxes flow softly from the speakers, filling the air between the two of you that seems to grow thicker and thicker with each passing moment. 

“See something you like?” 

You startle, eyes cutting up to see the curve of Jake’s lips as he continues staring out at the road ahead. Apparently you had been staring too much – enough for him to notice, anyway. Cheeks flushing, you shake your head in denial. 

“Just thinking.” 

His brow raises and it does nothing to quell the heat pooling in your lower belly.  “About?” He urges you on, tilting his head as if to hear you better.  You open your mouth to give a bullshit answer but he interrupts. “And don’t say work or the weather. I already know what you’re thinking.” Your jaw snaps shut. The fucker.  

“If you know, then why did you ask?” Your tone comes out a little brattier than you meant it to and Jake’s fingers tighten on the wheel. Seems that Josh isn’t the only one who’s going to poke the bear tonight. 

“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

A sharp exhale is the only evidence you have that Jake heard you. Refusing to give you a response, he flicks on the blinker to turn onto his street in a way that somehow seems snarky. It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling into his driveway and putting the car in park. Dark eyes turn to you, looking almost black in the dim light of the car. 

“Get out.” 

His tone leaves no space for arguing and you quickly unbuckle and stumble out of the car. Jake doesn’t wait on you – crossing the driveway to the front door in long strides, fishing for his key from his pocket. As you follow, you admire the broadness of his shoulders, the dominance within his gait alone, and yet another thrill of anticipation curls down your spine and settles between your thighs. He opens the door, not even sparing a glance backwards at you. He knows you’re following, knows you’ll follow him into the very depths of Hell if he asked. 

You expect him to pounce as the door closes. But instead, he merely slips his shoes off and places them neatly by the door. His keys and wallet are placed on the foyer table. Your shoes join his by the door. Then your purse on the hook. You walk deeper into the house, making your way into the kitchen – one eye on Jake as he moves about the space, orbiting you but not yet taking the step to touch you. It puts you on edge in an odd, delicious sort of way. He’s like a shark who’s scented blood; not yet going in for the kill, but instead waiting for the right moment to strike. You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself a glass of water from the sink. The cool liquid doesn’t at all soothe the fire running through your veins. 

Not a second after you place the glass on the counter, you finally feel the heat of him pressing up against your back. His arms circle your waist and his lips hover over the sensitive skin of your ear. 

“I don’t mean to be so possessive.” He murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Or pissy. ‘m sorry.” He mumbles, voice low. The heat in your belly simmers just a little, easing into something softer for a moment. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You answer him, tilting your head to the side as his kisses trail softly down your neck. 

Using his grip around your waist, Jake pulls you tighter against him. You tilt your head back towards him and he kisses you – soft but urgent. His hands caress your sides, your hips, then come up to cup your jaw as his tongue slips through your parted lips. He’s thorough, kissing you as if he’s savoring a meal. 

“Why are you being so sweet?” You’d been fully expecting a night of Jake using you to get all his frustration and energy out – an occurrence that you were more than looking forward to. His sweetness is a welcome surprise, though not at all how you saw this night going. 

He kisses along your jaw before seizing your earlobe between his teeth, nipping delicately before his mouth trails lower. His hips press into you and there’s no hiding the hard line of him in his pants, hot and pulsing against you. 

“I just want you to know how much I love you,” He whispers against your neck, giving you more kisses, “and how much I respect you,” another kiss. “because I'm gonna fuck you like I hate you.” 

All the air leaves your lungs and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. The earnestness and simplicity with which he utters such vulgarity is the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced, leaving your brain empty of anything beyond your desire for him. But he’s taking too long now, his sweet kisses no longer enough and leaving you hollow and aching for him to fulfill the promise of his warning. The words slip out from your lips unbidden. 

“Why don’t you get the fuck on with it, then?”

His body goes rigid for one beat, maybe two, and then he spins you impossibly fast, a hand against your stomach, pressing you back into the wall. He captures your wrists with the other, holding them prisoner above your head. 

“Fuckin’ brat.” He groans against your mouth and the rough timbre of his voice floods your veins with a wave of primal need for him. “This is the thanks I get for trying to be sweet to you?” His shoulders are tense, the muscles taut with pent up energy and frustration. You aren’t sure what it is that’s got him in such a state but you want to replace it all with lust. You want him to take it out on you – to give you the overwhelming pleasure that you know he’s capable of delivering. “Well?”

“Fuck me.” You demand in lieu of answering him and his eyes seem to come alive as his nostrils flare at your tone. “Sir.” You add, the word dripping with sarcasm, making a mockery of the title that he’s more than earned in the bedroom. 

His breathing changes and there’s a war in his eyes that you’re determined to win. He leans down, his face only inches from yours. “I don't think you know what you’re asking for, Princess.” The nickname, the growl of his words rumbles up through his chest and every nerve ending in your body flares to life. 

His mouth collides with yours in a kiss – a rough, demanding thing as he plunges his tongue between your lips, seizing your mouth as his. Lust strokes down your spine and wetness floods your panties as he takes your ass in his hands and hauls you up against his hips. Your back presses into the wall as you use it for leverage to get closer to him. You lock your legs around his waist as your hands settle on his shoulders, the muscles quivering beneath your touch. 

Heat floods your body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of you aflame as his lips trail down the column of your throat, nipping and biting as he goes. But they aren’t gentle as they had been before – no, the sting of his teeth lets you know that your neck will be a mess in the morning, a painting of swirling purples and reds that will stand as testament to how far you pushed him tonight. The hedonistic, lecherous part of you is only excited further by the thought.

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Jake walks backwards and turns you. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him where he’s going, your back hits the kitchen table. He hadn’t used as much force as you know he could have, but Jake had placed you hard enough onto the wooden surface that the breath in your lungs freezes for a moment as you glance up at his looming figure above you. He presses in close, roughly gripping your knees and shoving them apart so that he can walk forward and take up the space between them. 

“Hands above your head.” The words are rough – more of a growl than anything and you instantly comply, suddenly feeling unable to do anything other than what he asks of you. His fingers trail down your torso, his touch searing your skin even through the fabric of your blouse. His fingers trail underneath, slipping up your stomach and then behind your back. He tugs the blouse off you and onto the floor. With impressive skill, he then unhooks your bra behind your back and tosses it away as well, eyes now trained on the hard peaks of your nipples as you lay there exposed for him. He pauses, as if drinking in the sight of you, and impatience has you speaking before thinking once again. 

“You just going to stand there and stare?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you know that you’ve really done it now. Jake’s gaze turns wicked, his grin devilish, as he shakes his head at you. 

“Y’know you’re lucky,” He begins, stepping back from you and unbuckling his belt. His fingers work slowly to pull it from his belt loops. When he at last gets it free, he reaches down and grips your hands where they rest obediently above your head, “that you’re so pretty. Otherwise I wouldn’t put up with that fucking mouth of yours.” Slowly, teasingly, he wraps the leather of his belt around your wrists and then cinches it tight, securing your wrists tightly together and then placing them back down onto the table above your head. 

Your body tingles with sinful pleasure and excitement at the feeling of being bound, at being kept where he wants you. Despite your mouth saying things before you can think them through, you desperately want to please the man above you. You want to worship him, to give him anything and everything he could ever ask of you. You begin to respond to him but he silences you with a heavy hand over your mouth. 

“Careful, Princess. Before I make you shut up with my cock, yeah?” Eyes wide, you nod and Jake lifts his hand with a satisfied nod. “What do you say to me?”

“Yes sir.” The words are shaky, thick with lust. It takes all your focus to make your brain form the words, to make your lips form the correct sounds. You can hardly think beyond the lust swirling inside your head. 

Jake doesn’t reward you with praise for your compliance as he normally would and disappointment trickles through you for the briefest of moments. But then his mouth is on your nipple, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. He bites down and you whimper, core pulsing as his tongue swirls around the hard bud to soothe the sting. Then he’s trailing lower, searing kisses working their way down your belly until he reaches the waistband of your skirt. Jake bunches the fabric up around your hips, exposing your damp panties for him to admire. You wish desperately that he would take the damn skirt off completely but you know that you’re in no position to be making requests. 

“Look at you.” His words are honey sweet, dripping with thinly veiled desire. You can feel his hot breath on your clothed heat, his white teeth flashing as he grins up at you smugly. “You’ve ruined these poor things, haven’t you?”

You whimper as he trails the pad of his finger over your clothed clit, causing your hips to jump up towards his hand. Jake hooks his fingers in your panties with his left hand, shoving the fabric to the side – clearly unwilling to even take the time to pull them all the way off you. Then his other hand is hovering over your center, fingers running through your slick as he hums in approval. Without any more warning, he plunges a finger inside of you, curling upwards deliciously and instantly finding that spot inside of you that drives you crazy. 

You cry out, back arching up off the wooden table. Your hands lift up off the table and then slam back downwards, anything else feeling uncomfortable thanks to Jake’s belt keeping them bound.

“So responsive.” Jake shows no mercy, quickly sinking another finger inside of you. Distantly, your foggy mind realizes that – even though he promised to fuck you like he hates you, you know that he would never do anything without properly prepping you first. If you were able to focus on anything other than his fingers, you might have thanked him. Instead, all you can do is moan as he works you masterfully with his fingers. 

“Jake.” You plead as he abuses your sweet spot over and over, keeping you hovering over the edge of release. “Jake, please.” You beg again as he gives no indication that he’s heard you other than grinning devilishly. “Jake, I can’t- I need-” The words won’t form right no matter how hard you try, the agonizing pleasure proving to be too much. 

“I know exactly what you need.” Jake answers darkly, “But you’re not asking nicely, are you?”

Eyes clenched shut, you shake your head frantically. “Please, sir?” You try instead, hips bucking forward to try and find some sort of friction. “Please make me cum? Please, please, sir.” Even to your own ears you sound pathetic but you can’t be bothered to care. All you can think about is how badly you need to cum, how incredible his fingers feel. All you can think about is Jake. “Sir, please-” 

“Enough.” Jake’s fingers leave you, and you whimper loudly in protest. But you’re silenced as Jake suddenly tugs even harder on your panties. The fabric digs harshly into your skin, and then you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Jake rips them from you, and then he’s shoving the ruined fabric into your gaping mouth, silencing you as the taste of your own arousal floods your tongue. Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare at him. 

Jake, looking entirely too smug and pleased with himself, eases his fingers back into your aching cunt and has you back to the edge in mere seconds, your whimpers and cries muffled by the panties shoved between your lips. Finally, Jake’s mouth descends onto your clit, his fingers never once slowing or faltering as he sucks your clit mercilessly. Your orgasm swoops in – quick, overwhelming, the pleasure white hot as it rocks through your body. Muscles quivering, you scream through your make-shift gag as Jake moans into your pussy, his eyes closing as if the taste of you is a gourmet meal. 

When at last he pulls away, you're left there in a daze – aching for more of him already. Clearly just as desperate to feel you fully, Jake grips your hips and brings your ass to the edge of the table. With impressive speed Jake rips his shirt off over his head and then even quicker has his trousers off and discarded to the floor.

His cock – achingly hard and the head glistening with precum, has your mouth watering. He steps between your legs once more and instinctively your legs wrap around his waist, bringing your slick pussy to rsst his beautiful cock. Jake hikes your skirt up higher to your belly and then his left hand finds your hip – his grip bruising. Gripping his length in the other, Jake runs his cock through your folds, gathering your slick before nudging the blunt head against your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ take it.” He growls, sheathing himself fully inside of you at last. Jake groans deeply and you moan the best you can through your gag. Giving you no time at all to adjust, Jake’s pace is immediately brutal. After three hard thrusts, his cock brushing against your sweet spot each time thanks to the angle of your hips, the sting of him quickly bleeds into pleasure. The table creaks and groans beneath you, the legs screeching against the kitchen floor as Jake pounds into you.

"Such a slut." Jake groans, but somehow he makes the word seem like a compliment. The wet squelching sound coming from between your legs would be embrassing if Jake didn't look like he could fall apart already. "You like it when I treat you like this?"

You nod frantically in answer, loving every second and still wanting more.

"'Course you do." The words escape through gritted teeth, his voice shaky despite the hard persona he's putting on. "Shit, Y/n."

Jake’s gaze falls down between the two of you, eyes trained on where he moves in and out of you, his skin growing shiny with sweat. His hair sticks to his temples and the side of his neck, his necklaces swinging and clinking in the air between the two of you. “Look so fucking good stretched around my cock.” 

You can’t answer, the feel of him moving inside of you too perfect to think of anything else. Jake’s hips slap against yours, his impressive stamina allowing his pace to remain fast, mercilessly, without faltering for even a second. It doesn’t take long for the heat simmering in your lower belly to rise, your body plummeting once again, head first, towards your second orgasm. Jake’s mouth is open, his brows furrowing as his own release draws nearer and nearer. His hand reaches up and pulls your ruined panties from your mouth at last and instantly your cries – once muffled, echo throughout the room along with the sound of Jake’s skin slapping against yours.  

“Say my name when you cum.” Jake orders, his thumb finding your clit and circling the swollen bud. His touch isn’t gentle – the pace just as brutal as the pace of his hips slamming into yours. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you scream Jake’s name, the muscles in your body convulsing violently. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Y/n.” Jake’s pace finally begins to falter as your walls clench around him. Jake’s left hand braces against the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. A litany of curses and groans fills the air as Jake spills inside of you, the feeling of his hot release making your eyes roll back. Your body burns with pleasure – pleasure that is dangerously close to bleeding into hot agony from overstimulation. 

Finally, Jake stills, his cock softening inside of you as he breathes out shakily, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Still staying inside of you, the feeling of him there somehow comforting, Jake reaches up and unbinds your wrists. He brings each one to his lips in turn, kissing the red skin where the leather had been digging into you. 

“I love you.” He offers, his brown eyes now regarding you with a soft, almost sympathetic look. “My princess.” His fingers gently trace over your lips, his touch reverent.

“Love you more.” You murmur tiredly,

“Impossible.”

<fin>

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[roturo]

Written All Over Your Face dick grayson x reader

→ summary: “Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

→ warnings: SMUT. p in v, unprotected sex (don't be dumb and wrap it), enemies to lovers, heroe!reader, breeding kink, bulge kink ¿?, not proof-read, possessive behavior, begging...

words: 2k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

Being a heroe wasn't easy. Neither being considered a competition for Nightwing. The Ex-Robin. The Dick Grayson.

Both being ¨super-heroes¨ with no powers brought many controversial articles between you two, not only at the Gotham-Batman times, but also now at the new Titans times.

You never thought seeing him again and his boyish smile and attitude. No wonder why he has many girls falling for him, not only as Nightwing, but also as his real identity. But this rough times between the heroes, made the destiny bringing you together again.

Both of you had mutual friends, and when Dawn invited you to meet the new Titans, and asked you for help to train them, you never thought of seeing him again, neither of both of you training teenage kids how to become high quality-trained super heroes.

¨Sorry.¨ Were the last words you heard from Dawn, when she left you with bird boy at the training room, giving you an apologetic smile.

God bless her natural charm and being the trusting friend she is because you couldn't hit her face right now with the rage you're feeling.

¨Hi!¨ A green-haired boy said to you, he had the same, maybe not as pretty, boyish smile like Grayson. ¨Hello...?¨

¨Gar.¨ He told you, not putting down the smile.

With just a nod and a not so happy smile, your eyes moved into a purple-haired girl, who just smiled at you and said her name. ¨Rachel.¨ She hit the boy next to her with her elbow, murmuring his name.

¨Jason.¨ He said, ¨Is this your girlfriend Dick? Because she's pretty good looking for a guy like you. But yeah, what she's doing here anyways?¨

Oh. Yeah. Bird boy. He's here.

¨Yeah Grayson, what’s going on?¨ Completely ignoring the fact Dick was about to answer Jason’s question with furrowed brows and you obviously knowing why you're here since Dawn explained you. ¨And no, i'm not his girlfriend.¨ You looked at Jason with a smile which changed into a fake smile when your eyes returned to Dick. ¨He wishes.¨ You said, your head turning to the side, obviously trying to make him angry. At which he only scoffed, knowing you well enough to know what you were trying. ¨Yeah number two, maybe we can just pass at me explaining you why you´re here.¨

Number two? He WISHES.

¨I know why am I here. I don´t know if your little brain remembers you made Dawn bring me here to help you train this kids.¨ You got closer to him, not breaking eye contact. ¨And number two? pfft, If you were number one, maybe you wouldn't have been replaced by new Robin here.¨

That got him exactly where you wanted him. He might seem like a strong and rough guy, but behind all that image of big boy, there’s nothing else but trauma.

You couldn’t help but notice how his jaw clenched at the small giggle Jason let when you mentioned Dick being replaced. Side-eyeing him, Jason stopped. Dick sighed trying to calm himself down.

“First. I didn’t know Dawn brought you here, she just told me about bringing the perfect person to help me train them, I was not expecting you.” You could tell he was still angry at the remark, so he wanted to correct you. “Second. I didn’t got replaced. I left Wayne by choice of mine.”

“And third. I’m not longer Robin.”

It got into a really tense vibe between you and Dick trying to kill each-other with just your eyes, everyone in silence, clearly uncomfortable at this new encounter.

“Can both of you stop eye-fucking eachother and can we finally start the training?” Jason said, trying to bring both of you back to earth.

That clearly caught both of your attention to what Jason said, clearly annoyed at the wrong remark of how both of you were looking at each-other. “We’re not “eye-fucking” each-other Jason, stop getting into other’s people conversations.” With that, Dick started grabbing everything for the training of today, moving on. Jason just raised his arms at the air, (like when they’re showing they’re not armed), with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

That brought a hard, and big laugh to your face, how could Jason say that? This kids don’t even respect their “leader” This was going to be a funny training.

After what seemed like 1 hour of training, and getting to know the kids, you could get which were the flaws and weaknesses. Maybe you couldn’t understand quite well Rachel’s powers, but some time will do it.

You asked Gar where you could sleep the night, since it was already getting late and your most likely staying some days here, you'll also need some extra clothes at least for today.

Gar told you to stay in the spare room next's to Dick's, great, what a nice neighbor you have. He also gave you some clothes you could use tonight, tomorrow you could go back to your place and get some clothes, your skincare.... and I guess your super-hero suit.

When going out of the bathroom after a long shower (which you deserved), Dick was standing there, shirtless, all sweaty, and just with some grey sweatpants on... he looks.... nice, yeah. Obviously annoyed but when he saw you, his face turned into... panic?

He doesn't know what's happening to him right now, might be stress he needs to get relieved, yeah, sure, that's the reason he feels his pants getting tighter every-second he keeps looking at you right now.

¨Are you okay bird-boy why´re you just static over here, I know you have problems, but this a new one.¨ You looked up and down at Dick's figure, obviously checking him out, not like he needs to find out, noticing he´s quite handsome, not like you would tell him also, he's hot, and he knows it.

¨That´s... That´s my shirt¨ Was all that Dick could say, well, shit.

You knew the t-shirt had a distinct laundry soap scent which remind you of someone, and maybe a pint of perfume, but who could blame you?! Might be Gar's or Jason's!

¨And those... are my boxers.¨ double shit.

You could see he was obviously blushed and you're sure you are too, but what a coincide. It's like you could hear Rachel, Gar and Jason's laughing at the both of you.

¨Well... do want me to give them back at you?¨ You broke the tense silence, trying to take your, his, shirt-off, completely forgetting you're in front of him, you needed to find a way out of here.

¨No, no, no, stop! Leave it there, then you give it back to me.¨ He assured you, grabbing your hands and pulling them down with your, his? t-shirt. ¨And it looks better on you anyways.¨ That's all he said before speed entering to the bath-room.

¨Hey Dick!, Wait.¨ To say you couldn't feel the wetness of your pussy going out and asking for some relief, would be considered a crime. ¨What do you ne-¨ You cut him off by entering the bath-room closing the door in the process, both of your lips connecting in a perfect symphony like they were made for each-other. He left a sudden whine at the loss of the soft touch of your lips.

¨Oh.¨ Was all he could say, you don't understand what happened to you, it wasn't definitely a normal behavior between you two. ¨Oh my god. I'm so sorry Dick, I don't know what happened to me, i'm-¨ You couldn't finish the last sentence when you felt his lips in yous again. A little hesitant this time, he stops, unsure of his actions, but he lose it all. ¨Do it again.¨

That's all he needed to continue kissing you, hands caressing you neck, positioning them as a chocking posture, later going to trace your jaw as he continues kissing you.

He started giving you kisses trailing down your chin, making you moan at the specific spot that made your legs shake, he started leaving love bites between your chest, later going down on you, pulling your t-shirt upwards, getting between your breasts and marking them as his.

¨Please Dick... Please make me feel good.¨ It´s like something got into him when his hands started roaming your body like crazy, pulling your shirt off, your hand reaching his sweatpants, and later his cock, noticing he has no underwear under neat it. ¨It's like you were ready for this bird-boy, ah!-¨ Even when you try to tease him, he finds a way to tease you back even in a better way, his fingers playing with your nipple had you giddy and trembling. ¨Be a good girl if you want me to fuck you.¨

All you could do is nod and start stroking his hard cock, already leaking pre-cum which made the stroking easier, playing with the head had him as a moaning mess.

“Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” He left a whiny moan at the lose of your touch.

“Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” He man-handled you, turning you around, making you see yourself at the mirror.

“…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.”  He ripped apart the boxers you were wearing. ¨Don't worry, I have plenty more.¨ Fuck him and his fucking pretty smile.

With no more waiting, he positioned himself, and started thrusting into you. He fits just right, and could touch all the places you couldn't reach.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” Even when he's fucking your brains out, he finds a way to be that kind and nice guy he is.

“O-Okay.”  Was all you could tell him, before & after some moans and whines from both of you, one specific thrust had you seeing stars.

His hand lingered down your tummy and he moaned at the bump he could feel, when he was going in and out with his thrusts. ¨Oh baby, I'm going to make you mine, fill you up.¨

He started playing with your clit, it had you crazy all the feelings of his body, his thrusts, him.

¨´You´re so good for me, all for me... 'm gonna' fill you up with my babies, 'm gonna make you a mommy, full of my cum every-day just to make sure.¨

That was all you needed to cum, with just some last thrusts he came inside you too, fulfilling his promise of keeping you full of his cum. He waited for you to calm down, before he inserted two of his fingers, recollecting the cum that was falling out your hole, inserting it inside you again, making you moan at the sudden intrusion.

He got the tub ready, and got you inside it, in front of him while he cleaned your sore body while kissing it.

¨I can't believe it took me all this years to realize how I feel about you.¨ Your heart was anxious at how your confession would be received.

¨Doesn't take an idiot to figure out. You couldn't tell I was and I am in love with you because you were too busy trying to beat all that rivalry. I was in love the moment you kicked my ass for the first time.¨

You chuckled at the confession, and laid your head on his shoulder where you could see his dumb smirk. ¨You have that stupid smirk on your face again, can't you have a serious conversation with me?, can we fight again?¨

He laughed at your comment ¨Not a possible thing for me when you look this cute all marked by me and confessing your feelings for me.¨ The small pecks he started leaving on your neck and back had you giggling.

¨I love you.¨

¨I love you too, bird-boy.¨

[lvrgirlrey]

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝐵𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓉𝓈 ⋆⁺₊❅.

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: your friends-with-benefits, chuuya nakahara, is jealous after he overheard you talking about a recent hookup you had with a man that wasn’t him. he decides to teach you who’s better.

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: MDNI ~1.7k, afab gn!reader x hard dom!chuuya, unprotected intimacy (remember guys, wrap it before you tap it!), p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking, hair pulling, fingering, belt as handcuffs, basically the usual nsfw stuff.

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hi guys!!! yes it has been a whole week since i posted and i am so so so sorry :,c i’m starting community college now and i’ve been busy getting my classes in order but now im confident that i have some time to post now :D maybe ill try for 2-3 a week but i procrastinate a lot so idk but we’ll see! hope you guys enjoy this bc i don’t think it’s the best xp

it had been a while since you started working for the port mafia. you have finally started getting comfortable with everyone, a little too comfortable with a certain someone.

you had begun hooking up with chuuya nakahara, the handsome executive who took a liking to you since you first joined, for a few months now and everything seemed to be going smoothly, until yesterday afternoon.

the topic of hookups had come up in conversation with the other port mafia members. you told them about a recent hookup with a guy you met at a bar- this caught chuuya’s attention. you felt his gaze from across the room, staring you down like a lion stalking its prey as you continued to go on about the guy from the bar.

the other members could feel the tension rising as you went on, yet you were completely unaware of chuuya’s fueling anger bubbling up inside him.

later that day, you had been called to chuuya’s office for reasons unknown. you couldn’t think of a reason he’d be calling you to meet with him; he knows better than to attempt to sleep with you while at work.

head reeling with thoughts of the worst possible outcomes, you hurriedly made your way to his office.

opening the door, you could smell the faint aroma of wine. knowing him, he was probably already drunk from only a glass. “drinking already? and without me? how cruel of you, chuu.” you knew how much he hated getting called that.

he only responded with a heavy sigh, glancing at you without a word. “you okay? you left like an hour ago and i hadn’t seen or heard of you until now.” you were worried, he never like this unless something really pissed him off. walking behind his chair, you attempted to wrap your arms around his neck but he stood up and pushed you away.

“you seriously don’t know what you did?” he huffed, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. what had you done? you couldn’t recall a single thing this week, let alone today, that you had done to upset him like this.

“what are you talking about? i don’t think i’ve done anything.” you sighed, sitting in his seat to feel his warmth. “you don’t remember? you were talking about fucking another guy while i was right there!” he startled you, you’ve never heard his voice like this, bitter and filled with jealousy.

“why do you care about that anyway? it was a one-night stand and i barely remember the guy’s name. besides, you and i aren’t dating. the only ‘coupley’ thing we do is hook up.” you were getting irritated, why does he care if you hook up with other guys or not?

“because clearly you don’t care about me enough to not go ‘round fucking any other assholes besides me!” this had you reeling in anger. he was basically accusing you of being a slut who opens her legs to anything with a dick. “excuse me? if you had a problem with me sleeping with other guys, you should’ve told me and i would’ve stopped! plus, you were the one who said you just wanted to be fuck-buddies

“well i regret saying that because you’re right, i do have a problem with you sleeping with other guys.” he turned so you wouldn’t see his face, pink from embarrassment. you couldn’t help but laugh. the chuuya nakahara, one of the most feared men in yokohama, is standing in front of you, embarrassed because he let his true feelings out.

“what’s so funny?” his voice had cracked, only causing you to laugh even harder at the sight of him. “why are you so mad? we could become exclusive if you really wanted to.” wiping the tears from your eyes, your stood up from his chair and made your way over to him. you embraced him in a gentle hug. “i can be all yours if you wanted me to.” you whispered into his ear, feeling him tremble beneath your hot breath.

“maybe there’s a way you could make this up to me.” he smirked while placing gentle kisses on your neck. before you could respond, he pulled your head back into an aggressive kiss, feeling the anger pour out of him from it. you tasted the sweet flavor of wine on his soft lips.

“chuu- chuuya? not here, i don’t want to get caught and get in trouble with mori.” you panted as he released you from the kiss. “i don’t believe he would care. the other members have done worse so this would be the least of his worries.” he looked at you with the lust of a thousand animals, there was no way you would convince him to leave and go to his apartment.

suddenly, his lips were on yours again. he pushed you up against the nearest wall, trying to get as close as possible. he wasted no time pulling down your skirt and was surprised to see you had already soaked through your cotton panties.

“so wet for me already, doll?” he teased, sticking a hand down your fluid soaked underwear to feel the wetness for himself. a loud moan escaped your mouth before he used his hand to cover it completely, “you said you didn’t want to get caught, didn’t you? so stay quiet for me unless you want mori hearing you scream my name.” he fully removed your panties before continuing to play with your warmth. he drew circles around your clit, causing you to almost release a deep moan that would’ve been heard around the whole office.

just as quickly as he started, he stopped abruptly, causing you to try and cling to him for more pleasure. he slowly went up and down your folds, making it feel like torture. instantly, he stuck a finger inside you, curling it in such a way that it perfectly hit the right spot. you try not to scream at the sudden pleasure but you couldn’t help but allow some soft moans to escape your mouth.

he commanded you to get on your knees and you do so. as you helped him take off his pants, he uses his belt as makeshift handcuffs. “chuuya, what are you doing?” you were shocked at his aggressiveness. “making sure you don’t leave. i gotta make sure you’re satisfied enough after this so you won’t go and fuck other guys.” he smirked as you looked up at him, annoyance visibly on your face.

you could feel his hard length from underneath his boxers, his impressive size still shocks you even after seeing it dozens of times. you curled your fingers around his waistband, his rock hard cock hitting your cheek.

chuuya laughed at the sight. he could finish just by looking at you like this. his cock leaked of pre cum. a deep, guttural moan left his mouth after you traced your tongue up from the base to the tip. “f-fuck baby. don’t tease me, just hurry up and take it.” those were the last words you heard before he forced your mouth over his dick and down to the base, your nose touching his abdomen.

choking and moaning from the sudden lack of air, you wrapped your lips around his length while he forced your head up and down. “damn, you feel s-so good.” he whispered softly as tears began to well up in your eyes.

you couldn’t help but choke on his size. he was already close, you could tell. but before he could finish, he pulled your mouth off of himself and pulled you up by your arm. he dragged you over to his desk and bent you over it, slapping your ass in the process.

he nearly ripped off your panties with how aggressive he was being, like an absolute wild animal. you could feel him moving himself up and down your slit, tearing you before positioning himself against your hole.

“you ready? i’m not gonna hold back.” even if you couldn’t see him, you knew he had a cheeky smirk on his face as he said that. “that���s hard to believe. i don’t think you have it in you to not hold back on me.” his smirk was replaced with annoyance. as punishment, he pushed into with great force. the sudden pain and pleasure made you scream as chuuya gripped you hips with both hands and forced them down on his cock.

he forcefully continued to push his length into your hole. he was hitting your sweet spot every time, causing you to quickly inch towards an orgasm. he let go of your hips with one hand and violently pulled at a fistful of your hair.

you arched your back to his chest as he leaned over you, marking your neck and shoulders with sloppy hickeys. you were reaching your climax. “chuu- mmh! chuuya i’m c-close!” the pleasure was too much, you were going to cum all over chuuya’s cock.

“that’s right, baby. cum a-all over me.” he whispered into your ear, letting go of your hair to circle around your clit. you couldn’t take it anymore.

“cumming! i’m cumming!” the tight know in your stomach broke and before you knew it, your fluids came out and covered chuuya’s dick. you rode out your high as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier as his climax came. you could feel his hot load coating your walls in white.

he slowly pulled out of you, his cock covered in his cum and your fluids. “told you i wouldn’t hold back.” he continued to tease as he removed his belt from your wrists. you tried to stand to get your skirt back but your legs were numb and you collapsed.

“relax doll, i’ll get it for you.” he placed you on his chair as he went over to grab your skit as you put on your soaked panties. “if you hadn’t been so rough i would’ve been able to walk.” you rolled your eyes at him.

“well i had to teach you a lesson for fucking another guy.” you scoffed at that while he helped you get dressed so no one at the office would suspect anything. “well i now know that no one is better than you, chuu.” you proclaimed, knowing he would get annoyed at his nickname. “don’t call me that, unless you want me to teach you another lesson.”

again, not my best work but hope you guys all thoroughly enjoyed it either way! love u guys lots ^3^

[captain-hawks]

hi dee :3 i'm a big fan of your writing and ginormous brain, and i love the spicy sleepover concept you've got going !! (sorry for not popping by earlier, i'm a lil shy hfjhdj >~<)

this wknd could i humbly request that you expand upon a certain roommate!kuroo.. omg that post has been living in my brain non-stop for the last 48h.. 🙏

(hihi thank you so much you're so sweet<3<3<3!!!!!!)

night swim

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

c: 18+ only, pining, roommate!kuroo, semi-public sex, pool sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

It shouldn’t be weird—treading water after hours in the city pool with Kuroo under a blanket of stars and one dull, flickering street light just outside the chain link fence, the air still thick with the unrelenting humidity of a week-long heat wave.

It shouldn’t be weird that you’re swimming in your underwear, Kuroo’s bright idea to hop the fence and dive in mid-way on your walk back to your apartment from the convenience store too enthusiastic to deny. Too tempting against the uncomfortable, lingering prickle of heat and sweat on your skin after the two of you spent all afternoon trying to fix your one and only shitty, busted air conditioner in the living room. 

Kuroo’s been your roommate for nearly two years now, and you’ve accidentally seen each other naked more than a dozen times at this point—it’s become an occupational hazard you’ve long-since come to terms with.

(At least, you’ve lied to yourself enough to say as much.)

It wouldn’t be weird, if your stupid, traitorous heart would settle back into place behind your rapidly expanding ribcage, if it would let you continue to deny the inconvenient, messy feelings that have settled down roots deep inside of you as of late.

Roots that sprouted to life at the strange, funny feeling that unfurled inside of you at the odd expression on Kuroo’s face when you told him you finally broke up with your cheating boyfriend six months ago. 

Roots that dug their tendrils in even tighter as his room suddenly seemed all too quiet at night, his casual hookups dwindling dry.

(Roots that threatened to choke you the first time you realized you’d accidentally moaned his name into your pillow as your vibrator tipped you over the edge of a trembling, gushing orgasm.)

But it’s too late to backtrack this monumentally disastrous decision, not now that your ill-fated splashing match (an effort to derail the feelings simmering in your gut) finds you caged in against the side wall of the in-ground pool.

You’re a deer caught in headlights beneath his triumphant, smirking gaze—if the deer was secretly begging to get fucked by the goddamn car, that is. 

You haven’t quite decided if it’s better or worse that you’re not wearing your usual comfortable weekend undergarments at the moment, a now-cancelled date (which you’d swiped right on solely with the misguided hope of fucking Kuroo out of your system) finds you still wearing a new lacy pink bra, your nipples clearly exposed through the sheer fabric, and matching thong. Soaking wet and clinging to your skin, neither are doing much to hide the swell of your breasts or the swollen outline of your throbbing clit.

Water splashes gently against the side of the pool, and though you’re not certain who stops laughing first, you find yourself quietly staring at Kuroo and his damp, messy hair and stupidly handsome face.

“What happened to your date?” he asks suddenly.

“He cancelled,” You swallow, trying to play it off as you wave a hand at yourself. “Waste of a new outfit.”

Kuroo’s voice is a little rough as he replies, “His loss.”

“Is it?” you ask quietly.

He stares at you for a moment, seemingly thinking something over before he finally speaks. “You’re not as quiet as you think.”

Though you’re fairly certain you know exactly what he means, you still sputter out, “I—” 

You’ve made an unfortunate habit of it ever since the first time—slicking up your vibrator to thoughts of a tall head of unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Plunging the silicone toy in and out of your cunt to the fantasy of how Kuroo’s deep voice would sound against the shell of your ear.

“Is it fucked up,” Kuroo breathes out in a gravelly tone, one finger feathering over the strap of your new bra, “that I don’t want anyone else to see you in this?”

“Do you think it’s fucked up?” you ask.

His answering laugh is low and self-deprecating as he drags a hand through his hair, rogue strands sticking up in the wake of his fingers. “I mean it’s definitely fucked up how many times I’m gonna jerk off thinking about how your tits look right now.”

The heat simmering in your chest flares white-hot, and your throat goes dry.

“I feel like your view might be a little obstructed,” you tell him, swallowing hard.

He chokes out another laugh, incredulous, like despite the fact that he knows you moan his name while you’re masturbating, he can’t believe that you’re insinuating you want to dump your tits out for him in this public pool in the middle of the night.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You nod, reaching behind you to unhook your bra, and an insistent lick of arousal crawls up your spine at the way he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath as your soaking wet, naked breasts are inches away from his own bare chest.

Reaching down, you tug him a hair closer by the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip at the feeling of his erection that’s now pressed against your thigh.

“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, carefully reaching up to cup your tits in his hands, eyes darkening at the soft little moan you let out when he strokes his thumb over your pebbled nipples. “You’re so fucking perfect, you have no idea.”

And then you’re gently caressing the nape of his neck, and all it takes is a soft whisper of his name from your lips to have his mouth crashing into yours.

It’s messy and it’s desperate and it’s perfect, the way Kuroo’s lips fervently slide across yours, his tongue dancing across the seam of your lips until they part, the kiss deepening into something that has you dizzy with heady, unrestrained desire. 

“Kuroo,” you whimper as he presses you flush against the wall, his cock a rock hard line against the puffy swell of your pussy. 

And then you press back into him and nearly see stars at the friction, and he groans, rocking forward into you in turn. You spread your legs a little wider, halfway tempted to just wrap yourself around his waist and rub your cunt against his thick length, and clearly he has the same idea—because he grabs hold of your thighs and murmurs, “Keep going.”

You’d be more than a little worried about getting caught, if Kuroo wasn’t swallowing down each of your increasingly lewd moans and whines with rough, hungry kisses, sloppy trails of spit hanging between your mouths each time your lips part for air. 

It feels so fucking good—dragging your cunt up and down his length, your nerve endings flaring with hot, sharp bursts of pleasure. 

But it’s not enough, not when you can feel just how big his cock is, when your pussy is pathetically clenching around nothing with each thrust.

You don’t realize you’ve moaned the same words out loud that you whine in the dark in your room until Kuroo curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he outright drags you against him. 

“Fuck me, Kuroo.”

Almost the same words—

“That’s not what I heard you say last night,” he rasps, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

You stare at him for a beat before you slowly say, “Fuck me, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo groans, his forehead falling against yours, and he kisses you roughly before reaching between your bodies, tugging aside your thong to slide his fingers through your slick folds. Even despite the water you’re currently swimming in, slick arousal coats the walls of your cunt, and you nearly come right then and there as he appreciatively moans as he explores your tight, desperate hole with one thick finger, which is soon joined by a second as he stretches you open. 

By the time he starts teasing the head of his shaft against your slit, you’re two seconds from begging for it, a sob on the tip of your tongue as your fingers claw into his back.

He chuckles.

The fantasy of your vibrator is nothing compared to the fat stretch of Kuroo’s cock as he finally sinks past your quivering entrance, burying his shaft balls deep in the choking, clenching grasp of your cunt. 

It’s nothing compared to the way Kuroo’s hips snap into yours as he holds you in his grasp while he fucks you right there in the pool, your tits bobbing in and out of the water with each plunge and drag. The wrecked manner in which he murmurs your name, the possessive way his hands roam your body, like he knows you nearly fucked someone else tonight.

(The way he fucks you like he knows you wanted it to be him all along.)

“Tetsurou,” you breathe out.

“I was wrong,” he gasps as he tries to bully his dick in even deeper, as you hump into him in turn, greedy for every inch.

“About what?”

“I thought you ruined me for anyone else the first time I heard you moan my name through the wall.” He exhales, pulling out before thrusting back inside of you. “But that doesn’t even come fucking close to this.”

You’re not entirely sure what’s the catalyst for the sudden climax that explodes within you—your pent up desire, the thumb he’s currently stroking across your throbbing clit, the raw honesty of his words. 

All of it, likely.

Given the way you nearly black out under the force of your trembling, gushing orgasm, Kuroo groaning at the way your pussy expands and contracts against the stretch of his shaft, lost in an overload of pleasure.

“Inside,” you gasp out at the unasked question that lingers on his face as his own peak approaches.

Kuroo’s answering kiss is filthy as he groans into your mouth, cock pulsing heavily as he spills rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you deep.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, forehead falling against yours as his orgasm tapers off, his shaft still nestled inside of you.

You float there in comfortable silence for a few moments, Kuroo pressing soft kisses along the side of your face.

“So—”

He freezes, waiting for whatever it is that you’re about to say.

You continue, “I don’t feel very confident in my ability to jump back over that fence now.”

Given the nearly liquified state of your sated limbs, which feel damn near close to jelly as your legs remain wrapped around Kuroo’s waist.

“The lock on the gate is broken anyway,” he shrugs.

You balk, “Then why’d you make me climb it in the first place?!”

He shrugs, not looking anywhere near apologetic as he replies casually, “Your ass looked good in those shorts.”

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

We all need someone.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x afab!reader

Words count: 3919

Rating: +18, NSFW

Warnings/Tags: flour is safe in this one (LOL), smut, fluff, angst, Joel POV, Joel's thought inserts in italics, no use of y/n, reader is described having hair, breast and vagina, no other detail is given on her appearance, Soft!Joel, Older!Joel, age gap (20 years, but the age of both is not specified so it could be 20/40 as well as 30/50 and so on 😉), swearing, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (do better than these two irl, please), breeding kink (I don’t even know why this happened but here we are LOL), cream pie, cum eating, mention of Sarah and Tess (they’re both gone, I’m sorry 💔), Joel thinks about his past relationship with Tess, mention of Ellie (of course she's alive and well but doesn't speak to Joel), a lot of mixed feelings, some of them sad and kinda depressing, pet names (honey, baby, kitten), they says I love you for the first time.

This has been sitting incomplete in my folds for quite some time, I finished it these days and I hope you understand something about how deeply I love Joel, nothing ever seems enough to describe how I feel. I will continue to try anyway.

English is not my first language, I have no beta and I hope there are no mistakes but if there are please forgive me.

As always, thanks if you will take the time to read this ❤️

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

Joel is old. He can’t deny that no more.

Life wasn’t gentle at all with him and he can see clearly all the signs of it on his face and body.

His mirror reflects the image of someone tired, overwhelmed, just too worn out to feel an inch of youth somewhere in him.

Grey in his hair and beard, pain in his joints, hands calloused and ruined by the cold, back that gives him nightmare, weak knees, wrinkles… his entire self is failing on him.

He doesn’t even understand how he got someone like you.

Beautiful. Sweet. A body that could make world turns and the most amazing face he ever saw.

You don’t see you that way, obviously.

You don’t notice how men in Jackson look at you.

And you don’t even care because you only see him.

He can’t believe how lucky he is.

The most angelic creature set her eyes on him, barely a shell of a man.

He drop his gaze from the bathroom mirror sighing and returns to bed.

Near you.

______________________________

The day he met you for the first time he immediately felt the need to keep you safe running wild in his veins.

You were like a deer in front of flashing lights, scared, bewildered, confused.

And he was there, his hands itching with the urge to touch you, warmth radiating in his chest, his cock twitching into his pants.

You looked like a painting despite your dirty clothes and your lack of shower.

But then again, how could you deal with such things in the middle of nowhere, alone and hungry while struggling to survive.

You deserve the prettiest things.

Whatever he could find during patrol he brought it home to you. Wild flowers that he found in the wood, dresses, one time a brooch left in a drawer in an abandoned house, another time a nice scarf to keep you warm.

Nothing could match your inner beauty and your grace but seeing your bright smile is what keeps him alive right now.

“You don’t need to do that, Joel”

Sure he needs to do it, you’re a vision and he’s just an old man.

He vouched for you.

They were skeptical, you could have been a thief or a rat for some larger group.

You refused to talk about your past, which was why everyone was suspicious.

Joel knew.

He saw pain and loss in your eyes despite your stoic demeanor.

The grumpy, loner, unfriendly man that has always struggled to open up to anyone promised to keep an eye on you in front of the whole community.

And that’s why you ended staying in his house.

He got plenty of space anyway so it didn’t bother him, that’s what he said.

You scratched that little wound in him, that little scar that he thought he was keeping under control.

No matter how tough you tried to be, he could see the fear in your eyes, he could read it clearly in your emaciated face, in your frown and the involuntary twitch of your lower lip.

We all need someone.

He failed to admit that he needed you too, at first.

His battered heart had been out of order, had been crushed to pulp for Sarah, had bled for Tess, had died when Ellie stopped speaking to him.

He tried to be distant and coldly polite like he was with everyone else but you were right there, reminding him that beauty still existed in a fucked up world.

And after all, his heart was still working. It had been kicked but it was still pumping blood through his veins.

The day after you entered his house he woke up to noises coming from the kitchen and thought for a moment that the others were not mistaken. He grunted as he got up thinking he would find his supplies raided and you gone. He almost didn’t have the courage to come and check on you but then he heard a loud metallic thud and ran into the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you said as soon as he appeared in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast… except I dropped a pan. Sorry.”

His gaze shifted to the table where he saw pancakes and hot coffee. “I thought you wanted some bacon, so I washed the pan to prepare it and it slipped out of my hands while I was soaping it up and the handle broke”

He breathed a sigh of relief as you looked at him guilty . “It's okay, I'll find another one and anyway maple syrup is fine”

Your eyes widened as if he had told you he owned a gold nugget.

“Do you have maple syrup?!” you squeaked and he laughed “sure”

You sat down at the table and you doused your pancakes in syrup. “Hey, take it easy, we don’t have supplies for an army.” he couldn't resist teasing you. Your gaze immediately dropped "oh shit, sorry, I should have thought about it but I don't know how long it's been since I last ate it“

He burst into the loudest laugh anyone had made him utter in months. “Don't worry, help yourself“.

_______________________________

You ended up in his bed during a freezing night, snow storm raging outside, the wind howling and banging against the shutters.

You knocked on his door timidly. Just once.

He was awake, wrapped in his sheets, under a duvet, eyes wide as he begged for a way to sleep.

“Who is it?” A stupid question, there were only the two of you in that house.

“It's me…I…I can't sleep” your voice was muffled by the closed door but it ringed in his ears anyway.

He sighed and replied “Come in”

“Sorry,” you said as you entered, “did I… wake you up?”

She came to me just because I’m right here in the same house.

“No, I can't sleep." and seeing your uncertain steps on the parquet floor he gently urged you "come on, sit here" and he patted the empty side of the bed.

She'll sit here for a while and then go back to her room, he lied to himself.

You sat down, wrapped in too-small pajamas that showed too much of your ankles and wrists, the best you could find in the pile of clothes stored in Jackson's warehouse.

The buttons struggled in the front to contain your breasts.

Lying like that, he could see the outline of your tit from a gap between one buttonhole and the other.

“Why can't you sleep? Is it the storm?” He shifted his gaze to the wall in front of him, focusing on a stupid painting of a horse that someone had hung there who knows when.

“Yes, and also…I keep thinking about a nightmare I had last night, I’m afraid to dream about it again”

That night you opened up to him, you told him about how your parents died, how you managed to escape with some friends and how in the end, you were the only one still alive.

You didn't even know how, at some point you had lost hope. You dragged yourself day by day, a walking dead waiting for the end. You thought you would die in less than a week and instead you had survived another two months before he found you.

__________________________

Joel wished he had the strength to send you back to your room, close his eyes and sleep, without getting involved but everything you had said to him continued to echo in his head. You were finally vulnerable, eyes shining with tears that you were holding back. He felt it again, the need to keep you safe.

He wanted to kiss you.

He reached out to touch your hand. “You’re cold”

You shook your head “No, I’m fine”

You were lovely.

I have to stop, he thought.

“Get under the duvet if you want”

“No really, Joel, thanks but there's no need.”

Why do you have such a sweet voice?

“I don’t want you to get sick.” He immediately regretted saying it, did he sound like his grandmother now? It was tragic. And his pathetic attempt to get you into his bed was even worse.

You laughed. Your silvery laughter pierced his chest, leaving him baffled and needy.

“You know we don’t get sick from the cold, right?”

You were amused and you were teasing him.

“I know,” he replied dryly, pouting. Inside, he was a mess. “However, exposing yourself to the cold contributes to lowering your immune defenses and viruses and bacteria can have a party at your expense”

You laughed even more “Okay, okay. God, when you say these things you sound just like-”

Not your father. Please, don’t say that I sound like someone that could be your parent.

Instinctively he covered your mouth with his hand and you jumped as his big paw suddenly landed on your mouth.

“Damn Joel! Your hands are too big to do that all of a sudden,” you said to him with wide, scared eyes and he felt horribly guilty. He hadn’t thought about it, his head wasn’t thinking anything, but surprising you like that could awaken traumas in you, who knows what cruel and desperate people you had met out there.

You held his hand tightly in yours after you pulled him away from your mouth. You needed two hands to hold it. You were so small. Yet you were capable to do it, you were tougher than you thought.

He quickly apologized and tried to pull it away but you were still holding it.

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it”

You were blossoming in front of him, a completely different person than the one he saved in the wood, newfound lightness in your eyes, your body finally relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the discomfort you showed at the beginning had completely disappeared.

Stop it, she’s too young, she’s 20 years younger than you.

Then you did something he didn't expect. You brought his hand back to your mouth, leaving feather kisses on his calloused fingers.

“These hands make me feel safe, you know? I don’t want that to change. They are the hands that saved me.” you added in a whisper between kisses and there…Joel’s moral code collapsed.

All his good intentions swept away by your lips.

He shouldn't have, but his body was no longer responding to his brain.

He sat on the bed, slowly taking you in his arms.

In your eyes he saw his own need. He no longer cared what others would say, he only felt the unbearable desire to have you that was throbbing in his temples.

You kissed him first. While he was still looking for a way you simply placed your mouth on his and kidnapped him in an instant.

You were so soft against him.

Your lips trembled with uncontrollable desire against his, demanding and needy.

“Joel…” you breathed on his skin “save me. Save me again”

He couldn’t say no, even though he felt overwhelmed and exhausted and he should just find a way to stay away from you so he wouldn’t drag you into a relationship that was wrong.

Maybe it’s not, he thought. If it makes me feel this good and if she wants it so much, maybe it’s right.

Maybe that's why I found her.

When you grazed his lips he just opened it letting you in.

You moved feverishly, clasping your hands behind his neck, your tits rubbing against his chest and your tongue caressing the roof of his mouth and then seeking out his as if it were a matter of life or death.

That night Joel laid down his weapons. He was the one who was defenseless before you.

______________________________

“Hey” you coo in your little bird voice “where were you?”

“I was in the bathroom”

“Mmmmm come here, I'm cold” you wrap your leg around his waist and press yourself against his chest.

Six months have passed since the night he kissed you, what you wanted had become his priority, even if you didn't ask for anything. At least not anything material. Just to have him by your side.

He lies down on the bed on his side and you press your head to his chest “you're always so warm”

Your left leg is wrapped over his thigh, your body blends so well with his, it feels like you've always belonged there.

He could spend every day of his life like this, lying in bed with you in his arms.

You’re making out for what it feels like hours, your kisses going from chaste and tender to demanding and needy, getting sloppier and deeper.

Your hips grind against his, seeking friction, asking for attention.

The lack of oxygen is starting to have the better of Joel, his mind is fuzzy and all he can think about is you whining and panting in his mouth, filling up the quiet room with your labored breath.

Your voice is a litany echoing in his ears, a prayer made of sighs and moans “Joel, please”

“I'm here, sweetie, tell me what you want” he softly urges.

“I want…I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I’m boneless . Please” you plead

“Such a hungry little thing” he smiles before leaving a bite where your neck and shoulder joints met.

“I still have to wrap my head around the fact that you want this wrinkled old cock so much” he mumbles

Your voice is deep and husky as you continue to rock frantically on his leg and you slap him on the shoulder protesting “It’s not old. it’s thick and hot and perfect and my pussy needs it.”

He chuckles, surprised that you still have an attitude after all the grinding and making out.

“She wants it that bad, huh?” He whispers and you purr “yeah. She needs all of you, please”

“Oh baby, she’s weeping all over my leg, how can i resist” he smiles as he kisses you again sucking gently on your lower lip and then moving on your neck, licking over your pulse point.

He makes you lie down on the bed, gently crushing you with his body.

As he continues on his path paved with kisses and little bites he growls “Spread your legs for me, honey, let me feel you”

He lowers a hand, your soaked cotton panties sticky and messy under his touch. “Mmm how did she get so wet every single time”

“It’s because of you… she feels so empty right now”

“Damn, you’re so pretty when you’re begging for my old cock”

Your voice almost sounds like a cry, eagerness all over your face, your hands fisting his bed t-shirt so tight your knuckles are pale.

He’s intoxicated with the way you desperately demand to be full of him.

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck me hard”

Nothing exists anymore except your quivering body beneath him as he keeps hovering his fingers over your cunt and tasting your skin.

He doesn't even have the patience to take off your panties, he tears it, a large hole opens up on the front.

You whine loudly, a mixture of surprise and hunger.

He pulls down his boxers and let slide his cock over your clit wetting it, shivering at the sensation of your warm juices coating his shaft.

He usually licks you first, makes sure you have at least a couple of orgasms from his mouth before he enters you but he can’t wait. Not today.

He never really felt in control with you, he let you invade every cell of his body without even thinking about it.

Between him and Tess there was something left unsaid.

She had never asked him to feel what she felt, and he had no intention of bringing up the subject.

Tess was like him, bold because no one had to notice how deeply wounded she was, a woman of few words, she inspired respect and fear in others even more than he did.

They had bonded out of necessity and then discovered they were more similar than they thought.

He loved Tess but couldn't put it into words, he followed her around like a guard dog barking at anyone who threatened her.

It was the only way for him to show how much he cared, he couldn't make a relationship official when he was still trying to heal from losing Sarah.

When you stepped into his life he was even more hurt but he was still someone born to protect and the quiet coexistence with you had unleashed something in him that he couldn't oppose.

Before he could realize it, you were already beating hard in the center of his heart and it was as if the words were elbowing their way out of his chest.

He has to do it now, sink into you before it's too late, before time passes inexorably without leaving him anything to hold in his hands.

He puts the tip in.

Your glassy eyes are locked in his, overflowing with lust.

He slides another inch into you, your muscles clench around his cock and another moan escape your lips.

He has to hold on to all the willpower he has left not to shoot a load inside you right away.

He's slamming into you, trying to keep his mouth in check for once but yours is running wildly, he's never heard you like this.

“Holy fuck it’s so good just- fuck - just split me in two”

“God, baby, that dirty mouth of yours is going to drive me crazy”

“I can’t stop - nnnngh - the way you make me feel - fuck - it’s unreal”

When he reaches your soft spot you’re a bundle of whines “oh God oh fuck it feels so good”

He feels sweat beading on his forehead, his breath short, his strength faltering, it’s like fighting against his own body and it’s a fight he’s not willing to lose.

His lips latch onto your nipple, he tries to breathe deeply through his nose, so maybe you won't hear the rattle that crackles in his throat.

“Fuck. Yes, suck it, Joel. God, your mouth is so damn perfect” He doesn’t have a clue why you’re so wild today but he feels like drunk on you.

And he feels vulnerable, even with your nipple gently trapped between his teeth.

He sinks more, his balls slamming against your ass, so deep into you.

He hasn't shed a tear since he lost Sarah, he thought he had cried them all, but he looks at you like this now, disheveled, raw and longing beneath his body and he feels them stinging at the corners of his eyes for a totally different reason.

Happiness.

He is like snow, hard, cold, inhospitable and you are like the sun that melts him, inviting, comforting, warm.

His love for you is undeniable. Indisputable. It boils in his veins, it cracks his breath and makes his bones weaker. He never felt so much painful need of belonging to someone before in a romantic way.

His old body is aching but at the same time he feels like he has just gained a new sense of being alive in this wrecked world.

You're like a little beast writhing beneath him, clinging to his back, your nails scratching him and your mouth drinking from his skin, his neck, while your pussy sucks him in, taking everything he has.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead, scattered on the pillow beneath you, his hypnotized eyes don't miss a change in expression on your face transfigured by desire.

He has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

His cock pulses inside you, wrapped in your hot, tight, dripping pussy. “God, you’re always so perfect for me,” he sighs. His chest grinds against you, his heartbeat now in his throat.

Your skin is salty, smells like the rose shower gel he brought you last week. He smelled it and your face came alive before his eyes as if you were there. Tommy had to shake him by the shoulder to try to wake him from the trance he had fallen into.

You're always too much for his old, broken heart.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, dazed.

“YES. Please Joel, I want you to fill me up, I want to feel every drop of you, I want—fuck—I want your seed all the way inside my cunt, I want to feel it dripping on my skin”

You've never let him cum inside you before, he's marked your tits, your tummy, your back, once your face by mistake while you were milking him with your hand.

Never your cunt.

Your legs wrapped around his waist push him against you.

“Please, my pussy is yours only, yours only, feed her” your strangled sobs and your begging send him over the edge, he can’t hold back any longer.

Your clouded eyes are locked on his, sending shivers all over his body.

He does what you ask, exploding inside you in long spurts of sperm, painting your walls that tighten around his length as if they wanted to nestle him inside you forever.

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing it frantically "come baby, come for me" and you cry out your orgasm almost instantly, your hips rolling against his, your breasts bouncing with your ragged breathing.

He pulls out of you and smiles, looking down, long white, slimy streaks sliding lazily out of you. You smile back, bringing a hand between your thighs.

You bring a finger to your mouth, as if you had never tasted it before, you spread it on your lower lip and then lick your finger clean “what does it taste like?” he asks without even thinking.

“Try it” you suggest offering your finger to him “lick”.

Joel sticks out his tongue uncertainly, darting it slightly, he pauses for a moment and then gives a more decisive lick “It’s salty. It tastes like…moss?” “Yes. It’s good” you tell him softly.

Good is not the word he would use but you seem convinced, so he doesn't comment further.

He takes you in his arms as you calm down, you bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

He kisses your hair, then your forehead and thinks that if you didn't exist he would have already given up everything, his entire life.

"Kitten" he drawl and you hum in response “Yes, Joel?”

The words had been jostling in his throat for a week but he'd kept pushing them back.

Having these feelings at his age, with everything he had been through, is terrifying.

Yet he could no longer lie to himself.

You crawled into his soul so easily.

He belongs to you. For all the days he has left. He wants nothing more from life.

“I love you”

It's the first time he's said it to you.

You look up, your doe eyes surprised and sparkling in the morning dawn that faintly enters through the window.

You are speechless for a moment, joy radiating across your face. Your mouth curves into the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

“I love you too”

Your fingers tickle the nape of his neck and bury themselves in his hair as he kisses you.

“I love you, Joel” you repeat through the dance of your lips “I love you”

[elodieunderglass]

Hi Elodie! I was wondering if I might ask about your process for choosing names for the daemons in His Delicious Materials? I have some daemon characters knocking about in the back of my brain, but I’ve never been able to settle on names for them. I know that in His Dark Materials, some daemons have more common names, and some have more fantastical, but beyond that I don’t know much about daemon naming conventions, and yours sound so delightful to hear and say.

Oh jeez sure! I unfortunately love making sweeping decisions and then forcing myself to live up to them.

(In reference to His Delicious Materials fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56658973/chapters/144024799 )

The only set HDM daemon naming constraints I can recall are that they’re set by the daemon’s parents and thus relate to the parental names and desires; this Stelmaria, Greek, “Star of the sea,” has a son Pantalaimon “multitude of blessings.” But other daemons, such as the nurse who was severed, have names like “Nicholas.” Thus they can be what feels right, I think, with reference to internal family-feeling. people from Lyra’s Oxford are clearly going for Greek names - even the character who’s a “kitchen boy” has the lofty Salcilia, which seems to connect to “salt” - but the witches in HDM give their daemons Finnish names.

I think where possible it can’t be the language you’re reading the story in - I.e. if you’re reading in English you shouldn’t have a daemon named Trustworthy - and be three syllables. It would be ideal if it secretly revealed a piece of character, but could also be an aspiration. Will’s “kirjava” (multicoloured) is a description.

I had a few constraints. I set them early on. I think constraints make things easier but that’s possibly a personality flaw.

One thing that doesn’t happen much in daemon AUs is that I had different species of human to consider. This made me decide that they had to have relatively distinctive naming cultures.

- Bee was the one who sprang into my head without invitation and instantly suggested “wouldn’t it be great if it lengthened into Bibelot, which is French for trinket?” And I was like, such a great idea bestie! Let’s write a novel about you! Maybe two! So if that happens to you, let that happen.

- this led to all half-foots having a daemon naming convention where they had to have three-syllable French names with the first syllable shortening to their everyday name and their long name being reserved for intimates; the short name should shorten to a word preferably in English. At first this was fine and made things easier because the only other half-foot daemons instantly presented themselves as Chatelaine and Chiendegarde. If you have a good convention/restriction it can make things easier at first and makes you sound confident.

- I felt that Greek-inspired names for daemons in OG HDM felt very cool in that setting. Laios is a Greek name IRL (Falin is Irish I think but ignore that) so I mentally fixed the convention of the siblings having Greek names.

- then I used Google Translate to find a word that meant gentle or feathery and found Elafros, which alludes to both, and also having the highly desirable -os ending which matches Laios and obviously creates a cohesive, family feel

- everyone reading this is probably like, no the hell it doesn’t

- I liked the three syllables and sense of parental expectation so I researched it a bit more and settled on it.

- I wanted Laios’s daemon to start with a P, three syllables, Greek and match Falin in some way. I scrolled through the P entries on a 1990’s website with a list of “dead words”. Palinode was chosen for being obviously a cohesive and familial resonance with Falin (rhyming first syllable.) it also shortens to PAL and has connotations of sounding like paladin. She’s Falin’s paladin.

- everyone reading this is probably like, no the hell it doesn’t

- Palinode’s a terrible name actually. Oh well moving on

- I wanted Marcille’s daemon to have a Greek name too, this choice feeling synonymous with a certain expectation of class/education as well as species to me. I wanted it to start with a P because at that point I had read more of the manga and she had a pet bird named Pipi.

- the pyx- beginning is super cute to me because I originally pictured Marcille as being a pixie.

- while scrolling through the list of dead words looking for Greek inspired names starting with py- I saw Pyxis and was instantly in love. It was listed as meaning “small pot for medicine and cosmetics” but upon more research I realised it was a constellation and apparently also means “compass,” all of which felt absolutely perfect.

- Pyxis is an absolutely crap moral compass though

- I wanted Anne to be named Anne but that needed to be longer, so I tried putting the word “shield” into Google Translate and cycling through languages until Welsh gave me Tarian. It means shield and shortens to Anne! It’s also a very pretty word.

- This then set the convention of dwarves getting Welsh names, and at that point I was happier for them to have proper names, so Aneurin (a Welsh men’s name meaning honorable, and shortening to Nye) and Gethin could just be chosen from a list.

- in conclusion it’s a lot of meaning+vibes!

- thank you for this question!