#this man sucks but i liked searching and studying this

[iluminated-goat]

Had an extremely random thought about Filbrick Pines that escalated way too quickly and i wanted to share. Also this is extremely scrambled writing so i apologize if i sound confusing

TW: canonical and implied child abuse

Ever since his first appearance in Dreamscapers, it’s clear that even after everything he endured from the man, Stan extremely respects him (even when he sounds uncomfortable when Ford compares him to their father at the “you look like dad”). Considering they were children in 1950, gender roles dictated that the men were “the owners of the house”, “the breadwinners” aka the main order and assertiveness of the house. Seeing that Ford was more “favoured” over his intelligence, no wonder Stan constantly tried to reach his father’s approval (Stan seems to have a very close bond with his mother, but that was what women were “expected" to do with their children, and both of them clearly suffered from the want of trying to fit in society’s standards in the year - especially with their father’s and peers pressure).

x

If we only watch the show we only get some snippets of their parents and how they act, but we still think that the decision of him disowning Stan and kicking him out was excessive (especially considering he was just 17 and didn’t even finish highschool). But if we read Lost Legends and “thisisnotawebsite.com” we get a broader vision of their childhood and-

x x

Look at this shit.

He always seemed to have a dislike towards Stan ever since he was born, calling him “Extra-Stan”, “screwup”, “riding in his brother’s coattail” and making him take the blame without even hearing out first (which in this case, is true, but still). Considering it was only in 1958 that ultrasounds managed to visualize better the pregnancy and the thought of “one more mouth to feed” (which is actually ironic, considering that in the 50s, middle class families could - surprisingly - afford a lot of things and that was when the inflation was minimal and workers wages were rising). But if we look at it at a religious point, twins can be seen as a form of good or bad luck; or in some cases, embody the dualistic nature between good and evil.

Which when you compare it to the main teachings of Judaism (from what i researched, please tell me if it's wrong and I'll immediately edit/delete this part) is that: 

“Judaism values children and childhood as perhaps the most pure form of being created in God's image” and “Parents who hit their younger children risk injuring them both physically and emotionally, and injuring a child is forbidden by Jewish law. Doing so also constitutes an offense against common decency” – x

“Parents teach their children by setting a worthy example of commitment to family, community, and to the sacred tradition of Judaism for them to follow in their own lives.” - x

Ofc there might’ve been some elements that might have made him “raise his hand” or “be tougher to his children” (which is a really bad excuse from abusive parents). The thing is that, when Stan and Ford give him back his golden watch, when Ford gets an opportunity to go to West Coast Tech, when Stan starts defending himself; he genuinely looks fond of them, impressed and even slightly “happy” for them in his own way. Which just makes this situation even worse. It’s common in dysfunctional homes for a parent to verbally/physically hurt their children then claim to love them; either as a form of gaslighting, control or the fact that they genuinely think that they’re helping you (it isn't. It really isn’t. Cut these people off immediately when you can). The worst thing is that you can have “good moments” with your abuser, which might make you think that it isn’t “that serious”. Especially in the age of the 1900s and in-between, the amount of legal issues and cases that were easily dismissed because of the conservative upbringing only helped these types of behaviour and abuse to not be taken as seriously as it should - especially when it came from the so-called “community man”.

However, that brings up the question of his past. Considering he was in his forties in 1960s (according to the wiki) he was probably born between 1920s and 1930s (and holy shit the cases of child neglect because it wasn’t seen as a “real concern”, and when they started making law for this they were usually ignored or not able to reach them. And the rise of feminism too!). He would’ve been born right after WW1, it would explain why he’s so obsessed with money (postwar America suffered from the loss of money and resources) and why he acts the way he does (generational trauma or the “children copy their parents” thing).

AND THAT FINALLY BRINGS ME TO THE MAIN QUESTION OF WHAT SPIRALLED ALL OF THIS. 

Did Filbrick treat Stan that way because he reminds him of himself??

Think about it. Unfortunately, I didn't find the study that said it, but some parents tend to favour other children or the “better twin” in this case, because their/the other child reminds them too much of themselves and their worst parts. Some relatives even want you to repeat their actions just so you can suffer the same life as them - steaming from jealousy and envy at your “freedom”. Imagine little Stanley, with chubby freckled cheeks, reaching his father’s midtigh, who is so curious and adventurous about the world, who loved drawing and reading comics, showing off his tooth gap when he smiled. Imagine that as Filbrick - before whatever happened to him, or the way he was raised, or he’s just the fucking bastard that he is.

Imagine him being a twin, too. Holy shit, either as a younger or older brother. Either being compared to his older brother who was the same as Ford, or getting distant from his sibling because of their different treatment, or his parents doing what he did to Stan to their siblings and thinking that this was “normal”. It brings so many questions to his character. With this in mind, it would make sense why he’s so “”””hard and tough””” on Stan (not that Ford escaped the abuse, maybe not physical, but definitely the pressure of trying to keep their father calm or doing well for the family; and perhaps the slightest hint of being responsible for his brother at a young age as he was the most “mature” out of them). It brings such another layer to their relationship.

And for my fellow Stancest enjoyers (i did not forget any of you!), i feel like him having a twin would make the situation so, so much worse. Him seeing his sons being as close as he was to his siblings on their childhood, him trying to slowly separate them, constantly dismissive of Stan because of how similar they are, only listening to Ford when it was worth it or necessary because he also reminds him of his other half, hating any kind of affection between them because “they’re men” and “what would people think” (the same words someone once said to him), how they need to be more independent, reminiscing and resenting every single moment he spent with his twin or outright blocking him from his family and/or memory, imagine if his twin was kicked out of their house because of their relationship? Or what if it was him that got disowned from their family? Him taking all the brunt of their family’s abuse and how “it’s for your own good”. The amount of scenarios this could cause and bring, if anything, he would’ve been so much harsher to them. Not only would they suffer their father’s wrath, they would suffer social prejudice and be a permanent stain to their family. (I apologize for the few scenarios, or else this would get too long.)

The more i think about this man the more I disliked him, if he had or not a bad childhood, he is an adult. Yes, you can sympathize with his (extremely hypothetical past that i created) childhood - especially with the time he was born, it was shit dude - but your actions after are yours and yours alone. It doesn’t excuse how you act in the present. You don’t get to be an asshole or let your past define you (of course, healing isn’t an easy path and not everyone is able to do therapy, but i think you’ll get what i’m trying to say here). Much less with your own children, you might have been a child once, but so were they; and they’ll live with the same pain you suffered and that you now inflicted on them. THAT is your fault and your responsibility alone.

And that’s what makes Stan and Ford growth on the series so satisfying to watch, the both of them clearly care for the kids and for each other, and now that they’re on the Stan’o’War there’s going to be so much learning from each other, getting close again, there’s going to be healing. They chose to do good by the people around them, and that’s so nice to see them letting go of their insecurities and the internalized hurt caused from their past.

[burnforyou]

STUDY - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! cunnilingus (female receiving), thigh grinding, smut. guys I need him I'm sorry. he has a very sittable face so here’s this. also this is short and kinda lazy but still hot so its okay!

it started innocently: rewarding him every time he got an answer right. with a kiss. as you sit on his lap in a short skirt that looks straight out of a porno.

until it turned into grinding on his thigh. his thick, muscular thigh was just too perfect to not grind on.

luigi pretended not to be affected by your antics, but he was getting every practice question wrong, even the ones that he knew, and his cock was raging beneath his zipper. he flexed his thigh and locked up at you, waiting for you to read the next flashcard aloud. instead you gasped at the feeling of his thigh hardening.

"what's it say? read it." he commands.

"I-" you gasp as he grips onto your waist and brings you further up his thigh, your bare thigh now brushing against his cock with every movement. your empty hand falls onto his chest and the other still holds onto his flash cards, forgotten now. "need you," you whimper, your head falling onto his shoulder.

his big hand reaches under your skirt and gropes your ass. you begin leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

"you're so desperate, hm?" he groans into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. all you can do is whine in reply. he breathes harder and you feel his chest rising faster and faster.

"what do you need? tell me, y/n"

"I need you to fuck me," you whimper into his neck. before you know it, he's lifting you up on his desk and he's on his knees in front of you. his dark eyes flicker between your pussy and your eyes.

he leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thigh, approaching your pussy with delicacy.

"you're so wet for me." he says, sucking on your inner thigh, trying to leave a mark.

you grind onto his face desperately and whine.

"please, Luigi."

at the sound of your voice, he licks his lips and plants them on yours. your hips buck and your clit grazes his big nose. he grips your thighs and throws them over his shoulder, leaving him completely enthralled in your pussy. he shamelessly indulges in your smell, a carnal need for you shining through. he gazes up at your face, completely blissed out, almost at peace.

"you taste so good," he says into you, his teeth lightly scathing against you. you look down at him and grip onto his hair, pulling on his curls. he feverishly eats you like a starved man. it almost feels like worship, him on his knees before you, worshiping your body, treating you like a goddess.

his tongue lapping at your juices creates a lewd sound that's almost music to your ears. your thighs tighten around his head and bring him impossibly closer to you.

pressure begins to build up in your stomach and he feels you pulsing on his lips. in return, he laps at you deeper than before and pinches your clit.

"cum," he demands, groaning, "cum on my face."

you follow his command, cumming hard all over him. your back arches off the desk and you grasp onto his curls harder. he laps up all of your juices, not leaving a single drop. you ride out your orgasm by grinding all over his face, loving the pressure from his big nose on your hole.

he finally comes up from between your legs and smiles down at you fucked out on his desk. his face is almost completely covered in your juices, his swollen lips and nose glistening. he leans down and kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. your hand traces the shape of his body down to his cock, and you gasp at the wet stickiness you feel.

"did you cum?" you break the kiss and whisper, palming the wet spot on his crotch.

"i-" he looks away, searching for something to say that wont make him lose all of his dignity. you grasp his face with your other hand and force him to look into your eyes.

"don't be embarrassed."

"I just love making you feel good." he says, ashamed. you pull him into you for a final kiss, claiming his lips against yours.

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood

[venmondiese]

ONE MISSING POINT

-ˋˏ| summary: Failing the class just for one point, and you ask Michael Gavey his help to pass the exam. Tutoring isn't his strenght, neither is yours.

✧ | Pairing: Michael Gavey x reader

✧ | word count: 2.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, public masturbation (m receiving), humilliation, Michael is a virgin and he doesn't last long.

It was practically a tradition that Mr. Bynes posted the results of the class in the (most important) headboard in the whole university, and people practically crowded around the single paper sheet searching for their grades and to see if they were at risk of failing the course entirely. If so, they had to do the mandatory exam which was by no means friendly. 

He isn’t as worried as people around him, trying to make his way in the crowd to see the paper. He had to awkwardly pass through some people crying over it before he could see the paper. 

He approved it all. He expected it, of course, since he always participated and was one of the few who understood something the professor said. Sure, he didn’t have straight 100%, but nothing lower than 80%, which was really good upon seeing some people had more than one 0. 

It was a relief, but again, expected. He shrugs and goes on with his life as he walks away, thinking of going to his dorm and annotating his grades to later on calculate his final average score. 

“Michael! Michael Gavey” a voice calls him, as he sets his feet on the grass. He turns around, seeing you walking closer to him, as quickly as you could. 

“Ehm… yes” he says, awkwardly, looking at you. 

You shared calculus and some other classes, and you were good. Not bright, exceptional or anything, but good. And you were so much better at other things, more social and bold things he doesn’t dare to do. 

“Hi… how did you do?” You ask, slightly out of breath as you try to be polite. 

“Ehm… fine, I guess” he doesn’t get why you talk to him now.

“You passed?” You ask tentatively. “I… I saw your grades, and it was awesome, really impressive…” You hesitate before adding “I am sorry, I know… it’s weird, but… You were like one of the few people who actually passed.”

Michael shrugs. as he nods. “I guess so.”

“And you see…” You say taking his arm to interlock it with hers, as you and your friends did when walking together. It was so womanly, he felt weird. Or maybe everyone did it and he didn’t know…? “I had good grades, I did well in that essay that everyone hated… But I had one test in which I got 40%, because I transferred badly one of the gross numbers, and before you ask, I did calculate it… But since I transferred it wrong, the final value was wrong”

“Ah…” he says, not sure what to say “That sucks”

It didn’t suck. To him, it was like a stupid mistake easily avoidable. 

“Well, I was one point away from pass the course, and I explained this to the professor but… didn’t listen, you know him, he said that one point is missing, so I have to give the exam, and I need like 20%, but still..., and now I desperately come to you to beg you to please help me and tutor me” she says, as she turns to look at him. 

He blinks. He didn’t do tutorings on his free time. He did them for extra money, for credits or whatever reason. 

“Please Mikey!” You say, grabbing his hands. “Please please please, I only needed one more point to pass the class, I know about the subject, and it was a silly mistake. You don't even have to teach me from zero, only... go over the things we studied and that... please!”

He isn’t willing to do this. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he is weak. After all, he is a man. And he isn’t blind, you are pretty. Like out-of-his-league pretty. And you are prettier closer.

“Fine…”

You lean to kiss his cheek with a smile, and you nod. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow in the library? Could it be at four?”

He blinks a few times, trying to process the whole thing. He was supposed to finish the semester quickly, and… now he is caught up trying to teach you so you don’t fail a course, all because his mind betrays him. 

So, he tries to do the whole ordeal as smoothly and quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to do this but whatever. At least you are not dumb on the matter, you know something. He has heard some of the answers you give in the classes, and they weren’t as bad as one would hope. 

He’s sitting at one of the study desks, right beside a large shelf, and the library was with a few other students, concentrated in their own thing. He brought his notes with him, even if it was illegible. He tries not to be impatient, as he checks the clock on his wrist. 

“Sorry for being late, I– I got caught in something and…” You say, and you were breathing a bit heavily. 

“No big deal…” he stutters, as his gaze darts down to your blouse. Logically, since summer was getting closer and closer, you wouldn’t be wearing a sweater, but he didn’t expect… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. 

Why was he being so weak around you?

“Sit, I have my notes to show you…” He says, and so you take a seat by his side as you curiously lean to check his notes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he was very neat in his handwriting, even if they looked like the handwriting of someone in the 1700s.

You are not such a bad learner, and he was rather enjoying teaching you after some time. You actually heard him, as he explained in depth how to have the correct answer for all, as he tries to address everything.  You asked good questions, and pointed at the mistakes he had given you, to see if you could identify them in an exercise. 

As close as you were, Michael could smell how your perfume was nice. It smelled sweet, but not so much that he would like to throw up. Besides, everytime you stared at him, he could feel a bit uneasy, since he got a bit nervous. Your gaze was deep, and he didn’t know what it meant. 

Clearing his throat, he writes a new problem for you to solve. He had done a lot when studying, so he copied one of his. He hopes that focusing on the study will help him to distract himself from the weird feelings around you. 

“Here, try this one” he says, handing the notebook to you. It is complex, but doable. 

He manages to explain really well, as he gets into the theme and all. You do the work, and slide it over for him to check it. 

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey?” You ask softly. 

He looks at you, before turning back to check the answer. “Eh… no” he mutters, trying not to be ashamed. 

You were actually great, you are very tidy when unfolding the exercise and actually took in his advice, he can see it. Yet, you make the same mistake, you took the gross value as the final one. 

He made a circle, and he was ready to explain. 

“He-Oh” he gasps, feeling your hand on his thigh. He was frozen. 

Maybe it fell onto it. Maybe it was by mistake, it was surely by mistake, there was no way it was intentional. And surely it was a mistake how you caressed his inner thigh so… slowly. 

“Oh, did I get it wrong?” You ask, looking at him as if you didn’t have your hand at his thigh.  

He felt his head doing a short circuit, as if trying to understand what this meant. Was he imagining things? He surely must be. 

“Y-Yes, here… here you took the gross value…” he mutters pathetically, he was confused, he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t complaining, at all, but what does that mean?

What did it mean that you had your hand on his thigh? Surely, it was something… reasonable. 

“I’ll re-do it” you say, taking the notebook. And you didn’t take your hand away. 

He was frozen. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be helping you with your studies, not... not whatever this is. And yet, his body is betraying him, his skin tingling under your touch, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. 

He grips on the edge of the table, looking at the ceiling of the library. Suddenly, he is very aware of his surroundings, looking around as if everyone knew that your hand was sliding up as you did the exercise. Women surely can multitask…

“Eh, well, now… we can use the formula… you-you know it” he says, his throat feeling dry as he tries not to whimper. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like the rosary.” You say with a confident nod.

“Yeah… so, what’s the next step?” He prompts you, as your hand is higher and higher, and he is starting to lose his mind. 

“Replace the values, a… with this, and b…” your hand brushes higher and he lets out a little whimper, thinking you were about to stroke his cock… yet it doesn’t happen. It’s a pathetic sound he emits, and he gets red after it. “With this…”

He sees you replace the values, rewriting the formula, ready to be used.

“Right?” You ask, with one of your sweet smiles as if you didn’t know what was happening. 

“Eh, yeah… yeah, that…” he says, trying not to sound that pleased, even if he starts to feel the arousal pool on his stomach.

He starts to feel himself straining against his pants. It was painfully arousing, and he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want for you to notice, as you caressed his inner thigh.

“I… I need a break” he says suddenly, looking at you. 

You look at him a bit pouty even, as he grips on the edge of the seat trying to breathe in and breathe out. “But I am learning” you say to him “I really am”

You were driving him insane. He didn’t even know if he should address the elephant in the room. Maybe he’ll say something about it, and you’ll stop, be disgusted and leave. 

But he tries to keep inside his whimpers, since the library was the worst place ever to do this. Everyone quiet and it’s open for anyone to see. 

“I think… I..” He hesitates, falling to being able to finish a sentence. He moans softly, feeling your hand brush against his notorious erection, and he can’t bear it anymore. “Ah, please…” 

Michael was blushing, embarrassed of it all as he tries not to move his hips to follow the touch of your hand, since it isn’t where he really needs. How could he be so weak? His cock wasn’t even being touched now, but he felt so dizzy already. Maybe it was because, okay, he had never been with anyone else, but it was… embarrassingly little time to be so… needy. 

When he feels your hand on the tent of his pants, he whimpers, the sound too loud and filthy that his left hand goes instantly to his mouth, covering it to mute himself before he does another embarrassing thing that gives them away. 

“Y-You.. You have to stop” Michael murmurs, the words muffled against his palm as he looks at you, glasses sliding through his nose slightly. He was so flustered, he looked cute. 

“Why?” You ask in a pout, not wanting to. 

“I can’t– I need…” He tries to say, to make a coherent thought as your hand moves to follow the shape of his erection. It sends shivers on his spine and he practically melts on the seat as his eyes are rolled back in pleasure. How could it feel so good? “I… I… We can’t…”

He seems so confused with his own thoughts. “We can…” You murmur, looking around as nobody was actually watching them. “If you really want me to stop… I’ll stop”

Michael doesn’t want you to stop. He really didn’t. But he didn’t want to get caught, it would be embarrassing. 

“We are in public” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yes, I know” you say, not stopping the strokes on his cock above his clothes “But look at how much you like it” 

He’s already made a small, wet patch at the front of his pants. Oh, god, he thinks. He looked away, it felt embarrassing, his face feeling hotter as embarrassment creeped into his gut alongside pleasure. 

He liked it, but he was trembling with a mixture of emotions, and he didn’t know what to think. He was so close too…

“Please…” He begs senselessly, he doesn’t even know why he is begging. “I don’t wanna make a mess…”

Your hand touches him with the clothes in between, but the fabric of his light brown pants was thin, and it felt almost delicious. He would hump your hand if you two weren’t in a library. 

“You are making a mess…” You coax him softly, as he tenses his shoulder and falls slightly against yours, as his body was trembling with arousal. 

“I don’t wanna stain my pants” He murmurs embarrassed, in a little voice as he feels his balls tighten up as your hand insists on the head of his cock, stroking it through the fabric.

“It’s hot” you murmur back to him, and your hand is on the wet patch “And when you cum, I’ll feel it here”

He can’t form a proper sentence as he feels you hand caressing his dick, he felt the wetness on the tip of his cock, and even if it was so unlike him, he found himself so aroused. He is on the verge of cumming on his pants, just from the touch of a woman. Damn, you aren’t even touching his cock directly. 

He felt like a teen, needy and so hormonal. He wasn’t like this fromages ago, and he finds himself leaning on you, his forehead against your shoulder as he whimpers softly, his hips searching your touch as he is close. 

The thought of cumming in his pants, making a mess was both humiliating and arousing, as his body tense with each stroke. “I can't… i… I'm going to…” 

His hand goes to cover his own mouth as he reaches his peak, a strangled moan coming from his throat and his hand muffles the whimpers he lets out. He can feel his cock spurting cum into his underwear and trousers. He doesn’t want to call attention, but he cums so hard, his body basically slumps back in his seat as he feels his balls tighten with each rope of cum that his cock leaks. 

You are awfully quiet afterwards, moving your hand away as you clean it and he tries to gain his breath, feeling dizzy already and so pleased. He wants to hide his face in shame, and the other wants to beg you to do it again. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs.

“Don’t be” you whisper back to him, looking at his wet spot on his crotch. “To me, it was amazing. You definitely made one of my fantasies come true”

He blushes, he feels very self conscious all of the sudden, and he makes sure no one in the library paid attention to them and what they were doing. He moves slightly as if trying to cover up the wet patch on his jeans. 

“You enjoyed it?” You ask him, not pushing him too hard.

“Yeah…” He admits, slightly embarrassed but also very much pleased. 

You look at the forgotten notebooks, and then to him, as he accommodates on the seat and moves his hair slightly as if that would make him go unnoticed by everyone else.

“If it is worth anything, your tutoring did help me tons” you say, taking your notebooks together to save them in your pack. 

He is glad that he could help. Maybe this was your way of repaying? He couldn’t know or decipher it. He takes his things and saves them up in his bag as well. He wanted to go to his dorm and take a shower, and put on pajamas and think about this. 

“I’m not great with words…” He starts, his tone hesitant but trying to overcome it. “But… Thank you. I really… Hm. It was cool”

You smirk, nodding slightly as you appreciate his words. 

“A bit riské” you tease him playfully.

“Yeah…” he chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am a mess”

As he adjust the glasses on his nose, you hum, “Well, nobody really cares but you and me”

“I can’t believe we did… that… in here…” He mumbles, dumb founded. “And I was… so… I completely lost it…”

“Do girls usually make you… lose it?” you ask in a whisper. “Or do you last longer, and I happen to have magical hands?”

He blushes to the blunt question, looking anywhere but to your face as he avoids answering. “Well, um…” he doesn’t want to admit his lack of any experiences with girls “Girls don’t…. touch me like that” he says in a whisper. “So I can’t say…”

You didn’t judge, looking at him, and you nodded.

“Well, next time we’ll see”

Next time. He looks at you with eyes slightly wide, as he tries not to stutter his words. “Next time?”

“Obviously” You say smiling to him. “If I pass the exam, we are doing it without the pants” You say smugly “And… more”

He was so lucky you missed one point to pass the course. 

[bigification]

Prom King

"We want to welcome you back to Fairway High for your ten year reunion. Come catch up with some old friends and share all the amazing adventures you've had since you graduated! And stick around for a special speech from our Prom King and Queen."

Dan shuddered as he read the email. He had completely forgotten about the stupid reunion. It's funny, he thought, he used to imagine how he would show up to the reunion in a sports car with a perfect bod and high end clothes hugging his muscles. But that was back when he was the most popular football player in his town. Parents adored him, popular teens idoled him, and nerds feared him. Things have changed a lot for Dan since then.

He stared at his half naked body, ravaged by the bad habits of an ex jock. His appetite stayed after he graduated high school, but the exercise didn't last long. He went off to study business in college, as any high school jock did. His time spent at football practice turned to frat parties and junk food, which quickly showed on his waistline. It really put a dent in his once untouched ego, especially once people nicknamed him as 'freshman' fifty. It wasn't quite fifty pounds, at least not in his first year. It sure was well over that by the time he graduated though. And in that time, his clean shaven body had been buried in thick dark hair from head to toe. Although he didn't entirely mind the more mature look, especially once his beard grew in, it complemented his growing gut. Though Dan took another sizable cut to his ego when he started to go bald at the ripe age of 20. Comb overs only lasted him so long, so he started shaving it when he was in his senior year.

He always said it built character, which to be fair, he was far less awful after graduating college than he was in high school. The email only made him remember how awful he was back then. He was the typical jock with his possy of suck up football players who had no personality and the most popular girls. He would torment anyone who was even slightly chubby, or even just smart, they were all beneath him in his mind. How were people gonna react when he shows up to the reunion looking 9 months pregnant and about to burst. It horrified him at the thought of them treating him how he treated them.

Then the horrifying thought hit him, "I'm the Prom King!" He shouted out loud at him in the mirror. Not only would he have to show his face, and gut, he would have to stand on stage in front of his entire graduating year and say a speech about being Prom King. He would be a laughing stock.

"I have to do something about this." He thought.

The reunion was still two weeks away, he could workout, or diet, or maybe buy some clothes that hide his fat. He did a frantic search online but everything just seemed like a scam. He scrolled through page after page of scam supplement and intense workout regimen until he found something interesting. A witch who lived nearby. A witch who specializes in body modifications. It was drastic, but could be crazy enough to work.

Dan contacted the witch with a request to make him into an absolute jock, the kind of man his high school friends would expect him to be 10 years later.

After a bit of back and forth, an appointment was set, and Dan went to bed happy.

The day of the appointment came in a flash. Dan threw on his classic base ball cap to cover his balding head, and dressed in some gym clothes that he thought would look sick on his new hunky body. He excitedly hopped in his car and drove down to the witches house. To his surprise, it was just a regular apartment in a regular apartment building. He was expecting some evil looking house, but seemed less intimidating anyway. He knocked on the door, and he was met with yet another surprise. A petite and nice looking woman wearing all black opened the door.

"Come in darling." Her voice was enchanting. "Sit." She continued in a soft but commanding tone.

Dan sat in a small chair in front of an antique looking table. The raggedy wooden chair creaked under his weight as the witch sat across from him.

"So... You say you want a strong, manly, and attractive appearance?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Well for what it's worth, you're much more attractive than you used to be." A cold breeze blew past Dan as she spoke.

"Oh... Thank you." His cheeks reddened at the comment.

"I do have to warn you, there are some... dangers to this spell." Her tone darkens.

Dan just raised his eyebrows.

"There are people who feed off of a witch's magic. Now I know how to avoid them, but I will be imbuing this magic into you. So you may have a target on your back from people trying to steal your magic."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Just don't draw too much attention to yourself." The witch warned. "Anyway. I'll get on with it."

She dipped her hands in a small bowl that was laid on the table. "Stand up." She commanded, and Dan followed. She walked around to Dan's side of the table, fingers wet from whatever was in the bowl. She pressed her fingers into his forehead, and it felt like all the tension in his body vanished in a split second. In fact, all feeling seemed to vanish in Dan's body, leaving him stood exactly still. Something about being frozen should have scared him, but he felt a strange sense of calm in the moment.

The witches fingers traced down Dan's face, through his beard and over his soft man tits. She lifted the finger and firmly pressed it back down into his chest. It was like the air was pushed out of his chest as the fat on his moobs collapsed in on itself, leaving his chest completely flat. She then pulled her finger outward, and his pecs grew as she pulled. The muscle swelled until two juicy pecs pressed hard against his tang top. Dan was shocked, he couldn't believe it actually worked, although he still couldn't move.

The witch then traced her finger down to his gut. She laid the palm of her hand against it and pushed, causing his belly to vanish in a second. And once again, she pulled her hand back to form a defined six pack over his flat stomach. She moved her finger around his side, melting away his love handles and giving him a thin waist.

She then suddenly sped up, as if she hit her stride. Her hands gripped Dan's soft arms, and suddenly definition appeared on his rapidly growing biceps. They grew to the size of melons as his shoulders broadened to match. Good thing he wore a tang top or else his sleeves would be in shreds on the floor. Her hands slid down his forearms, doubling their size in the process, and she held his hands, making them so massive they could completely cover his face.

She then bent down and grabbed his thighs, causing them to thicken to the point that Dan couldn't separate them anymore. She thickened his calves as she moved to his feet, making them burst out of his shoes as they grew to a monstrous size 20. As she stood back up, Dan realized the witch stood at eye level to his pecs when they used to be the same height.

The witch then wrapped her arms around Dan's hulking body and cupped his ass cheeks, making them expand into two thick globes of fat that threatened to rip through his shorts. One hand then came back and gripped Dan's dick, making it grow and thicken until it was a massive 10 inches and hanging down his pant leg.

Finally, her hand lifted up to Dan's face, making a few adjustments to match his body. A thicker beard, a sharper jawline, a slightly bigger head to match his much bigger body, and thick brown hair on his head.

Dan gasped as he regained control of his body. He teetered back and forth as he tried to get used to his new body. His legs felt strong, holding up his immense muscle mass with ease. He even struggled to move his arms around at first because it was difficult to move that amount of mass. His meaty hands took a moment to explore his expansive body; bouncing his pecs and his ass, gripping his cock, and even rubbing through the short brown hair that now covered his head.

"How are ya feeling handsome?" The witch broke the silence.

"Are you kidding me, I feel amazing!" Dan flexed, as if to show off his body like a new toy.

"Well I'm glad you like it, now we should talk abou-" the witch was interrupted as Dan basically ran out the door.

"I'll be fine, thank you!" The sound of his voice got quieter as he shut the door behind him.

On his way home, Dan excitedly stopped by a retail store to grab some clothes that actually fit. He confidently strolled in with his tang top riding up his hairy six pack, and shorts that were clearly too small for him. He picked up a few clothes that were big enough to fit him, but small enough to leave little to the imagination about his physique. The clothes weren't exactly pretty, but nobody would care about the clothes when his hunky body was the one wearing them. He even flirted with the cashier on the way out, making his cheeks flush red.

He swiftly made it home and passed out like he had just had the workout of his life.

He woke up the next morning, feeling like he was still in a dream. He shot out of bed as if he'd had three cups of coffee already. This was how he spent every morning leading up to the reunion. Dan was more productive this week than he had been in years. His looks quickly got him a modest following on Instagram, and even on onlyfans after his followers pestered him enough. He reconnected with a bunch of his old friends from high school, just to build a rapport with them before the reunion. And he spent most nights partying and staying the night at some strangers house. By the time the reunion rolled around, it was as if he was the same person he was in high school. Hot, athletic, cocky as hell, and maybe just a bit nicer than he was back in high school. So much for 'building character'.

Before he knew it, it was time to leave for the reunion. He had been prepping for this all week, there was no way he could mess it up now. Dan was meant to be the Prom King. He wore a snug pair of jeans that hugged his ass perfectly, and a grey shirt that showed off his juicy pecs, and finally threw on the letter jacket he wore when he was Prom King ten years prior.

He pulled up to the reunion in his shitty, half broken down car and parked as far out of the way as possible just so no one could see the piece of shit he drove. He pushed open the door to the venue and walked past the crowd of people as if all eyes were on him, because they were. Everyone who was anyone knew who the Prom King was.

He strolled to the back of the stage, so he could get ready for his speech. He stood alone, in silence for a moment, trying to hype himself up. Even after the amazing week he has had, it was the same insecure fat ex jock under there who was scared that everyone would laugh at him onstage. But his moment of silence was interrupted when loud footsteps approached him from behind.

An older man strolls into the backstage, walking right past Dan as if he wasn't there. Dan grimaced as the man got close, seeing the man's large ball belly hanging out of his shirt, which seemed to have multiple buttons popped off. "What is this pig doing here?" Dan couldn't help but think of the old man. The old man promptly sat down in a chair near Dan, leaning back and pulling the shirt up his gut, as if to show it off.

"Who the fuck are you!?" Dan yelled as he got fed up with the old man's antics.

"Oh, you don't know who I am?" The man said as he continued to adjust himself in the seat.

"Why would I know some loser like you, are you the Prom Queens dad or something." Dan scoffed.

"I thought the witch would have warned you about me." The old man's demeanor became more serious.

Dan felt a jolt of fear run down his spine. How does he know about the witch?

"Oh I bet she did." The man started to laugh. "But all the attention online and the sex and the porn, oh the porn was so good." The man grunted as he rubbed his crotch. "You just couldn't resist being popular!"

Dan only grew more afraid as the man monologued.

"I am going to enjoy this." The old smiled as he got up from the chair.

"Enjoy what?" Dan questioned as he tried to back away, but couldn't. Why couldn't he back away. The old man grew closer and closer, but no matter how much Dan wanted to run, he remained frozen in place. The man placed his finger on Dan's forehead, causing a blue light to escape from his body and enter the man's body.

Dan watched helplessly as the man's arms grew to the size of melons, his biceps bursting through his sleeves. Meanwhile, all Dan could feel was his sleeves becoming looser as his arms deflated. The man's moobs shrunk into a solid pair of pecs as Dan looked down to see his chest swell until he was left with two soft man tits. The man's ball gut got smaller and smaller as fat piled into Dan's stomach, leaving him with a heavy gut that spilled under his shirt. The man's pants grew tighter and tighter as thick muscles filled his thighs and juicy fat perked up his ass. Dan felt weak as his legs became more fat than muscle, he even felt the bulge in his pants shrink as he watched a thick bulge appear in the man's pants.

As if that wasn't enough, Dan watched on in horror as the man's face ages down from 60 down to 30. His wrinkles melted away as Dans became dry and wrinkly, his face thinned out as Dan's became rounder and chubbier, and his hair gained a light brown colour as Dan's thinned out and became white. The man pulled off his shirt to reveal a forest of dark hairs sprouting all over his body as a bushy bread covered his face. Meanwhile Dan can feel his face go cold from the much thinner facial hair.

As the transformation came to an end, the man flexed as he felt the energy course through him.

Dan once again let out a gasp as he regained control of his body, though this time his voice was much deeper and gruffer. Dan panicked as he ran his hands through all of the new rolls of fat on his body. He even stumbled back as he adjusted to the weight of his gut.

"What did you do to me!?" Dan yelled.

"Oh you did this to yourself buddy, y'know how easy it was to find you." The man responded, sounding almost exactly like you used to.

"You made me fat." Dan's voice breaks.

"Oh I did so much more than that, check the camera in your phone old man." The man smiled, as if he was containing his excitement.

Dan dreadfully pulled out his phone and opened the camera app.

Dan shed a tear as he saw the fat old man staring back at him through his phone's camera. His gut was bursting out of his jacket and his hair was nearly as thin as it was before his initial transformation.

"And if you don't mind I'll be taking that." The man grabbed the letter jacket off of Dan and put it on himself.

The man confidently strutted towards the stage, ready to give his speech as Prom King, but Dan wasn't ready to give up that easily. His footsteps were heavy as he followed the man onstage and grabbed his arm.

"You're not gonna take this away from me!" Dan yelled.

This was followed by a moment of silence as the crowd went awkwardly quiet. Everyone's eyes were once again on Dan, but it didn't feel like before.

"Ooohhh, that was embarrassing old man." The old man whispered to Dan before approaching the mic. "I'm sorry everybody, my dad is just a bit jealous that I'm in my glory days and he's not." The man says to the entire venue, then turns to you once again. "Isn't that right, dad? " He said as he pressed his finger into Dan's chest.

Dan froze once again. This time, memories flooded into his brain. Memories of him growing old, never reaching the happiness and popularity he had in high school. He even had a son, and named him Dan jr. after himself of course. Though his son would grow to top him in all of his achievements, including becoming prom King back when he was in high school. Dan Sr. finally decided to swallow his pride and let his son have the spotlight. He slowly waddled off to the side and watched as his son gave his speech as Prom King.

[inupibaldspot]

From you, For him

| Part 2 of At him, For him

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Normal like no curse and stuff AU where Gojo is in love with Geto’s lover but this time he has the chance to change everything. This contains time travel!

I wrote it in a way you can understand what’s happening even if your don’t read part 1 btw

·:*¨༺ Part 1 ༻¨*:·

Gojo Satoru feels as if he can’t breathe.

He inhales. His chest hurts and he has a horrible attempt at keeping his glazing eyes in check as he fakes a smile and claps his hands together; there was a blur silhouette of Geto and you in a distance in tears ,both wearing matching rings.

“Woah—! Congratulations you two.” Shoko smiles wildly as she brings her hands close to her mouth,cheering. She briefly turns to Gojo and looks back at the couple. “Keep it together,Gojo… you’ve done that for years so why bother showing it now.”

Gojo lets out a laugh. “How cruel…” of course Shoko knows he has had this unrequited love for years. He breathes out. “I’ll head out for a second.”

Shoko nods as she reaches out and puts a cigarette and lighter in his pocket. He mutters a ‘thanks’ as he opens the door, cold breeze immediately greeting him. He breaths in again as his hands search for warmth in his pockets, turning to the alleyway.

Once when he is secluded, he brings out the piece of cigarette Shoko handed him earlier as he places it in between his lips, his hands bringing up the lighter with one on the lighter as the other hand wraps to protect the small flame.

He did not smoke often—more like he didn’t even the last last time he did. Gojo sucks in a breath, his throat feels hot but his chest is lighter, no-he remembers smoking back in high school simply because of Shoko and Geto. His only two friends would leave him for smoke breaks and he didn’t want to be left alone so he simply picked up the habit. 

Gojo quit after he met you since he didn’t feel the need to tag along Geto and Shoko anymore.

Somewhere in between college,meeting you and now, he didn’t seem to care anymore.

“Hey kid.”

“Fuck!” Gojo jumps, his teeth biting into the cigarette as his eyes glare sharply in the direction of the sound. A man sits along the far end of the alley way, away from him.

The white haired man contains his jumped heartbeat as he walks over the man who called him over. His eyes trail the dress he wore; it was a traditional dark piece of clothing and beads around his hand. This man was cosplaying as a Priest. 

He didn’t say the word ‘cosplay’ lightly because first, to begin with, the man in front had a ‘magic ball’ in front of him as if he was waiting for people to share their future and second, he wasn’t too serious because boy—! That monk had thick hair on his head, not the shaven look you’d normally see.

Gojo met scammers; near the shopping center, outside popular restaurant and tourist attractions, by his house ringing on his doorbell and right now, infront of him.

“What‘cha gonna tell me,old man.” Gojo says as he peers in, with also taking in a puff of smoke. “That I’ll be having a wife and two kids in my 30s… If it’s not that, it means one of you is lying.” By ‘one of you‘ refers to the scammer-I mean fortune teller he let in his house because he was bored. 

“Hahaha-! That’s not it.” The man laughs as he faces Gojo directly, it was then when he finally notices a stitch mark which stretches across his forehead. “Just wondering if you’d ever regretted things… ‘things’ which you wished you could go back and change..”

Gojo laughs as he drops the half-piece of cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. No long interested. “Of course. I still wish I could go back in time and not erase my answers because my teacher made all the answers to the MCQ ‘c’ just when I didn’t study.” 

Fuck—just why did Yaga REALLY do that? Gojo thinks back at the thought.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Gojo turns when he hears the man speak. 

The man stands close—very close to him as his hands were making a V-sign (a peace sign) , fingers pointed near his eyes before the old man was stabbed into his eyes.

“Oh my god— shit! That hurt, old man.” Gojo places his hands on his eyes as he tries to soothe the pain from it. “What are you trying to do—huh…?”

He blinks once.

Twice.

He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s fine.’ He thinks to himself. ‘I’ve just lost my mind a tiny bit because y/n and Suguru are getting married.’

Gojo let out the breath and opened his eyes. Same scene. He was by a tree, near a building; he remembered this place being behind the building for the Class 1-3 who were studying the normal curriculum whereas advanced classes of class 4-5 students were in another building. 

“What the actual heck is happening?” Gojo grumbles as he looks at the calendar on his phone. He was back in high school. He was sent back in time by about 7 years. “Fuck… I guess that man wasn’t a quack….”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“That’s why I need you to help.” You wiggled your toes in your shoes as you stand, smiling. The teacher,Yaga Masamichi, was in front of you, sitting on his chair as he continued to talk- maybe complain would be a better word- about a certain boy from the advanced class. “The boy is smart but he lacks discipline! He needs someone as hardworking as you and maybe it’ll rub on to him.”

You’ve heard of Gojo Satoru. You’ve never seen him but he was very infamous in high school . First, for being the son of the Gojo Estate. Two, for being a very tall, conventionally attractive boy. Third, for being a delinquent. 

And that last part bothers you a lot, you’ve heard him get into fights, rumors of him smoking along the alleyway, ripping love letters into pieces and recently he skipped over all his tests making him fail his mid-terms. 

You gulp. Hope he doesn’t beat you up… 

Just then the door to the staff room slides open. You see enter, he was tall with white hair and lashes and the eyes in the most beautiful shade. No way this was Gojo right? He was so— beautiful.

Did he just make eye contact with you?

“Gojo come here.” Yaga calls out as he huffs. Gojo clears his throat as he walks to the teacher. When he was close enough Yaga continued. “This is y/n and I’m assigned to be your teacher. She’ll make sure you get all your works done plus make you study for the reassessment for the exam you skipped on.”

You watch Gojo who was towering beside you raise his hands and brought it up to his face, but from the angle you see the upward turn on the corner of his lips. Why was he smiling?

“Isn’t this -he points at you- from the normal department?” You huff when you were referred to as ‘this’. “You sure she is smart?”

“Don’t mess with y/n just because she isn’t from the advanced class— And also! In the last exam she was placed third overall , right below Suguru.” Yaga shouted back.

Your eyes trail back to him when the boy beside you seemed to still, You’ve heard of Geto Suguru too. Apparently a boy from the advanced class who was also popular for his good looks. But not only that— he had a delicate aura around him which makes people like him and to add on he was very much academically smart.

Gojo lets out a breath, as if it were more of an amazement in your opinion. You watch him take a small step back as he turns around and gives you a smile, god was unfair when he crafted this smile. “Then please take care of me, my tutor.” His face was close to yours.

‘My.’ You face almost burst with heat.

“Gojo stop bothering y/n.”

“Ouch—! That hurt sensei.”

Ever since then, once you hear the bell ring indicating school was over for the day, there would be Gojo poking his head into your class with a boyish grin plastered on his face, he takes your book-filled bag, slings it over his shoulder as you guys would walk to the library.

He sometimes passes by your classroom which is in the opposite building whenever he wants to go to the restroom in between classes—I mean he never did specify which restroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

And when he does, his gaze flickered towards you, taking in the way your gaze reflected the warm sun from outside.It becomes clear to Gojo then that even now, despite everything—in between ever but of confusion, anger and guilt, he doesn't actually want to lose you. To his best friend. To anyone else.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Warm.

The way the curtains fluttered from the gentle wind, letting in a cool breeze and a glow of the evening sun and you. You sitting not even an arm's length away and just like the pace of his heart which picked up, pushing every worry he could still have further and further away because there was no space for those in that moment.

There was just you. And he could feel your presence a lot closer now, her warmth not far away from him.

God, you were beautiful.

So beautiful, he would not mind spending the rest of his life memorizing each feature belonging of yours.

“Stop staring at me.” You let down the pen you were holding, looking away from your homework.

“I can’t stop.” He admitted.

You huff, the smirk on Gojo widened as he could see a faint color rush to your cheeks. “Just do your work…” you wave him off as you grumble.

“I’m already done,love.” He continues his teasing.

You pink as you let out a small shriek at the nickname; you rush close to him as you cover your hands on his mouth. “Shut up—Gojo, I don’t want to be murdered by your fangirls because of this.”

He pecks your hands by pursing his lips forward, into the palm of your hands making you shriek once more pulling away.

“Gojo!” You glare at him as you reach your hands out and comically wipe your hands on his blazer as he laughs at your reaction. He leans forward as he looks at your books. “What’s this?” He asks.

“Ah…” you say as you bring out a book closer to him. “I’m studying for my entrance exam for this university.”

“Already?” But that’s like months away.

“Yeah.” Your voice is laced with a smile, gojo almost sees shining glitters surrounding you. “It’s like… kind of my dream as a kid to go here.”

Gojo laughs at how adorable you sounded. “Why that university though?”

“My parents-“ you turn almost too quickly to face him but then you stop yourself as you clear your throat. “My parents went there and that’s how they met and fell in love.”

“Ah…” Just like you and Geto… His heart pains again as he is reminded.

You bend down as you lean your head on the table, letting out a sigh with your hands on your sides. “I hope I get in though…”

“You will.” He says confidently. He knows you will. “Nerds like you will get in.”

“Gojo, I’m not a nerd.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“I’m not princess either!”

“Sure thing, love.”

“Oh— Gojo,stop that!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I need you to be serious, Satoru!”

He listens to you shout, even without turning to your direction he could basically sense you ‘huffing and puffing’, a habit you took till adulthood. He reaches out into the bushes, pushing the leaves away. “I am—! Sheesh, let me breathe.” Gojo laughs.

You two were currently near the patch of grass by the football ground; you had lost your key to the music club room—a room which was basically unused but you guys needed a room so you two can continue on with your study lessons. 

You bend to look over the bushes while Gojo does around the bushes checking every shrub. “Oh lucky— someone’s cigarette and lighter is hidden  here.” His smile widens as he reaches out for the gift, someone had kept here. “Satoru, don’t steal others' stash.” He puts it down upon hearing your words.

“So this where you go after classes,Satoru?”

He knew it was inevitable but he hoped he could extend it for as long as he could.

In front of him, holding a key was Geto Suguru, smiling at him with Shoko, a lollipop in her mouth peers over from beside him. “What you doing?”

Geto throws him the key at him which is catches instantly.He wanted the two of his friends meet you but he selfishly hoped it would be after like maybe, after you and Gojo date. Wow—what an optimistic! Gojo gulps, afterall what would he do if the two of you fall in love again? 

“You found it!” You jump, unaware that the two figures were his friends. You turn your head to look at him, at him. Despite Geto Suguru standing near you, you looked at Gojo. The white haired boy’s heart pulsed, the slow and steady pump now erratic and heavy with emotions. Just you looking at him with a smile, at him like he was the only one on the planet m. For the first time.

“Who is this?” Shoko says as walks to to the bush and sticks her hands in. You laugh. “That cigarette was yours?” Shoko nods.

“This… this is y/n.” Gojo grumbles, speaking low. “She is helping me with my reassessment.”

“That’s what you get for skipping assignments and test.” Shoko teases. 

Geto laughs.

Gojo eyes at your reaction and sighs in relief when you were still acting the same. Thank god, there was nothing of that ‘love at first sight’ going on. “I don’t need to take those test.Even Yaga knows I’m smart.”

Your roll your eyes. “I guess we won’t have those study sessions of now on, Gojo.”

“Wha— no! I need it.” Gojo jumps, as he comically starts shaking you, as if he got the most shocking news of the century. “No- nope! You can’t do that. I need you—!”

“Geto, let’s get going now.” She turns. Shoko looks over to Gojo, they make eye contact and the brown hair girl smiles. 

He knows that smile. 

That’s the smile Shoko gives when ever she figures out something. And equipped with a teasing look, Gojo is certain she knows that he is in love with you. “Good luck,Gojo.” With his studies or with you? Geto gives you guys a wave as he also turns around and walks way. 

From then onwards, it’s as if the friendship which you guys have in the future,college days were happening now. Hanging out, study sessions, sometimes sneaking into parties and café date; the four of you. Just like right now as you’re in Gojo’s room, a flat rented nearby your future college.

“No way.” Shoko starts. “We’re all going to be attending the same college.” Her smile widens when you cheer and jump into her arms, she quickly looks over and sees a fond smile on Gojo’s face…hilarious!

Geto laughs as he takes a sip on his coffee as the two girls snuggle closer to each other. “Did you know about this?” He peers over to Gojo who finally seemed broken from his trance—you.

Gojo nods. “Yeah… I mean I’ve seen her study for her exams.” He clears his throat. “Have you played the new ‘digimon’ game?” He changes topic, whenever Geto speaks of you or to you, it makes him feel small. This isn’t good. He relishes this yet it was suffocation. Gojo would never hate his best friend—never, but sometimes it’s insecurity and sometimes it’s guilt which swallows him whole. ‘Is this okay?’ 

Shoko breaks away from the hug and she pulls on your cheeks fondly, she thinks you’re the most adorable human as she turns to Geto. “Smoke break.” Geto smiles and nods, following behind Shoko who led the way.

Gojo turns to you, eyes carefully trying to take in your presence that is before he notices something—your eyes are ‘lingering.’ He follows your gaze, carefully in the direction.

You were looking at Geto.

All emotions are wiped from his face. Gojo knew this could happen, you can fall in love with Geto all over again. He was the one who was messing with fate and time, yet— it hurt.

You turn to Gojo, your face tilts up to meet his gaze as your lips turn into a teasing smile which quickly flatters when you see Gojo’s expression. Your heart settles and softens, you relax and reach over the table to grab one of his hands. “…Satoru?”

He turns to you, and smiles. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“No…just thinking.”

You gulp wondering why it felt as if suddenly there was a huge rift when they were barely centimeters apart; for someone as big as Gojo his voice was so—so small. “…About?” You were almost scared to ask.

“Are you in love with Suguru?” Gojo beats himself for this, he has gone and done it now! 

You tilt your head. “where did that come from?”

“Friends don’t give each other love-filled lingering looks.” He scoffs. “So tell me-“ no he was being pushy. Gojo felt so backed into a corner for a moment but when he locked eyes with you, he was hurting you with the way he was acting.

He stands up. “I think I need some fresh air.”

“If I did love him, what would you do?” 

Were you testing him? 

“Please—please don’t fall for anyone but me…” he mumbles.

You watch as he slumps down on the floor, on his knees, burying his face into his hands, curling up almost as if to protect himself. Gojo is no longer confident egoistic boy you know, right now he seemed so weak; as if he was tired after a long journey. “I have surrendered myself to you for all of time; past, present and future I am yours…”

Your head is dizzy with all this information. You need time, you need clarity. Gojo feels like he is losing himself in his thoughts and also rambles with no coherence to what his mind has to say. “I don’t know what do do with this emotion but if I try to stop them they overflow and-” 

His heart seemed to thud to a stop in his chest and then start up again erratically, hands seemed to be incapable of doing anything other than hang close by his sides.

“Satoru, I love you…” you whisper and it is only then when he realizes you were also on your knees in front of him, thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry for joking— I don’t love Geto. It’s you I love. Don’t hate me?”

How can he hate you when you were still his everything: you were his everything even when you were intertwining hands with someone else?

“It’s me?” He breathes out. “Did you say you’re in love with me?” 

You nod.

“Oh wow.” He says which makes you laugh.

“I love you…” He says, years of these words inside the depth of his heart, was dug out. “From the bottom of my soul, I’m head over heels for you, my love.”

You almost cry at his tone, so gentle.

He caresses your hair, tenderly, running his fingers through the soft, silky strands. When he eventually has his hands on your cheeks; your cheeks flushing as he gazes at you, captivated by your presence. Your eyes sparkle with wonder, your lips plush and rosy. 

You are flawless, perfect in this moment and beautiful in his embrace.

Gojo didn’t even realize when he started to get so close to you. His lips pressed against her pulse in a kiss before he nipped the skin.His limbs burned where he touched you, you were warm. So it was cold after all, he realized somewhere along the line. His hands were freezing, clinging to your lower back. 

Gojo wants to stay like this, holding you for a minute longer or forever.

A whisper in his head was telling him to let go—that it wasn’t right, but Gojo wouldn't. He was hanging onto a life line, it hurt, but if he let go now, he would drown.

Gojo was vulnerable. And you kiss him back. Kiss him till he is fine. Kiss him until all his worries fly— till he understands, you are equally so stupidly in love with him. 

Unbeknownst to you two, Shoko peeks over inside the door, a small crack reveals what’s inside “You think they’re done?”

Geto laughs. “Of course not…but give them more time and they’ll be in bed.”

Shoko laughs lightly making sure she isn’t spotted yet as she then peers over to the taller boy beside her. “What about you? You good?”

“Yeah… it was just a crush.”  Geto looked at Shoko from the corner of his eyes and his lips curl into a smile. Shoko was always so observant. 

Taglist ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡—I tagged people who voted for time travel! Hope you guys don’t mind: @uuu55r64z46 @leviswifey-act62 @royaleashlyn @bakananya @bejwls @ritsatoru@washeduphasbeen @satorus-babygirl

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[whateverloomis]

Dilf!Billy Loomis who kidnaps the sweet lil reader that works at the local Spirit Halloween?

I've always wondered how Billy would kidnap someone because he 100% would lmao. This is basically a drabble, it's all I've been able to put out lately. Anyways, here it is! Hope y'all enjoy babes 🫶🏼

Warnings: FEM READER, kidnapping (honestly it was a willing situation but the intention was there lmao,) spiked drink, alcohol consumption, flirting, fingering, stranger danger (lol,) Stu Macher feature, unedited

Finally, your favorite season has arrived and you couldn't be happier. Fall. Halloween. Gloomy nights and a full moon. Ghost stories and pumpkin spice in the air.

It also means night shifts at Spirit Halloween. It isn't exactly the funnest job, but being surrounded by all kinds of decorations and costumes is worth doing it.

Tonight the store isn't as full as it usually is and you're almost grateful. The week has been chaotic so far and you definitely need a slow day, especially since you're at the register.

A few people came in and browsed the costumes but nobody bought anything, except for one. A man.

He's wearing a white tee with an oversized navy blue jacket along with light wash jeans. As you scan his body with your eyes you land on his black doc marten boots. It looks like they've been used quite a bit but they're still in great shape. You fixate your gaze a little too long on them, boots are one of your weaknesses and the man wearing them sure make them look extra hot. He must be in his 50s, but fuck does he look delicious. It's odd for you to find older men attractive but when it happen you're practically weak at the knees.

You continue looking at him as you suck on a lollipop you stole from a random aisle. With the view of the attractive man studying and touching the Halloween masks your brain got creative, and you definitely wouldn't mind having his cock in your mouth instead. Gosh, what a slut. Thinking that way about a complete stranger? Who does that?

It doesn't stop you from entertaining yourself with the thought as you feel the sugary bulb against your tongue.

"Do you have another one of these available?" the man asks and snaps you back to reality. He's holding a ghost face mask and you can't help but imagine him wearing the damn thing.

You nod and search for another mask from the pile of items people decide not to buy last minute, and luckily you find another one.

After handing it to him, you pull the lollipop out of your mouth, "Anything else I can help with?"

You noticed how he looked at your lips when you removed the candy from your mouth and smirked, "Mm, no, I have everything," he responded and you instantly got flustered.

"So, are you new in town? I haven't seen you around before," he asks, making small talk.

"Yes, I moved here a few months ago. It's pretty nice, I didn't think I'd like Woodsboro much..." you trailed off and Billy looked at you with a questioning look,

"Is it that boring here?" he continued and you laugh shily, "No, I just don't really have friends to hang out with..." you say and the man frowns.

"Well, I can show you around if you'd like. I know a nice deck with a mini bar down by the Woodsboro lake. It's really nice at night when there's a clear sky." he said and you mentally curse yourself for being tempted to go hang out with him. A stranger. But you couldn't help it, it's been a while since you hung out with someone and this guy is incredibly hot.

Your mind is racing but before you reason with yourself, you accept his invite... Billy Loomis' invite.

•

After a brief walk and a few drinks at the mini bar you were already letting loose and getting flirty with Billy.

"Wait, so he fell in the water with his suit on?" you asked, giggling at Billy's story of Stu falling into the hotel pool where their prom was hosted in '96. You were sitting rather close to the man, your thigh touching his while you faced each other.

"He really did, the idiot" he responded and took a swing of his beer. "We should all hang out sometime, I'm sure he'd like you." Billy continued and you blushed at his words. "Really? You think so?" you asked, shyness taking over. "Of course, anyone would like a cutie like you," he said, no shame in being straightforward.

You bit your lip and let out a breathy laugh. "I've never thought that way about myself..."

"Well, you should, I mean look at you" he continued and placed his hand on your thigh, running it up your skin slowly until it rested right under the hem of your short dress.

Silence fell upon you in an instant and the tension that was building went up a notch. Naturally, both of you leaned in and gave each other a few lingering kisses.

Billy pulled back and hissed, looking down at his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly. "Bars about to close... You wanna go back to my place?" he asked and you nodded slowly, following him to his car.

Once you reached the vehicle Billy leaned against the hood and pulled you towards him by your hips. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck and continued kissing and it quickly got heated.

You might be a shy person, but when it comes to getting what you want? You don't hesitate one but, and at that moment you wanted him. This stranger that you met a few days ago.

It's reckless but you didn't care. The way that man was using his tongue to tease your lips and mouth was incredible and you could've stayed there all night but you needed more.

"Mm, let's go" you broke the kiss. Billy smirked and opened the door for you, looking at your ass when you walked past him to get in the car.

•

You found yourself straddling Billy's lap on the couch of his living room. The cabin he owns is relatively small but extremely cozy and charming in every way, just like him.

The sound of your soft moans mix with the crackling of the fire place. The make out session had been going on for a while and you were already grinding against his growing length. He feels big, and you can't wait to see what he's hiding in his pants.

Billy was careful with what he chose to do, he didn't want to scare you away after all, so he slowly slipped his hands under your dress and pulled it up and over your ass. You moved your hips quicker in response to his actions and he exhaled at the feeling of your pussy against his clothed cock.

He squeezed your ass and dug his fingers in your flesh before sneaking one of his hands between your legs. He rubbed your clit over your underwear, encouraging you to grind against them, and that you did. Slowly.

"Fuck... You soaked through these." Billy said while snapping the band of your underwear with his free hand, "I've barely touched you baby..." he continued and nipped your neck.

"Mm, please..." you said and grab his hand. "Need to feel..." you continued while you pulled your underwear to the side, moving his fingers inside your throbbing cunt.

"Fuck..." Billy moaned and finger fucked you from below imagining his cock buried inside you.

After a while his impatience took over and he stood up. You wrapped your legs around his torso along with your arms around his neck and into his room you went...

•

After Gods know how much time of fucking and playing with each other Billy offered you a drink, which you gladly accepted. After a few sips you went to the bathroom to clean up, and while you were away he took the opportunity to spike your drink. Of course he had alternate motives, and you were an easy target. Too easy.

Once you came back and took a few more sips of that drink you never thought you'd end up passing out... much less end up with your hands tied behind your back on a chair in the middle of a living room. A room that was comforting a few hours prior, but there you were. Confused out of your mind.

"Look who's up" you heard Billy whisper. His hand softly brushed against your cheek.

"Where... What?" you said while moving your arms around, feeling the restraints.

"Shh sh sh, we're at my place, remember?" Billy said softly. Why was he being so gentle in a situation like this? You had no clue, and it made the situation all the more confusing and frightening.

"What's goin- What the fuck?!" You lost it.

"Hm... Well, you see... It's a very interesting story, really. I used to study with your aunty Prescott."

No way.

"And I tried to kill her, but the bitch got away from me, so I thought... Hm, how can I get her attention again?"

"Billy... Don't" You started.

"Why not kidnap her sweet nephew. The one she loves like a daughter..."

"Billy..."

"Why not use these? Terrorize the town again... Terrorize Sidney again." He continued, holding the ghostface masks up. The ones you sold him a few days ago.

But why two?

"Am I late?" You heard another voice behind you. Turning around was useless so you closed your eyes hoping it was all a dream.

"Nah, I'm just getting started" Billy replied and the other man came to view. He handed Billy a knife and took his mask afterwards.

"YN, meet Stu." Billy said and Stu waved as if this were a normal everyday interaction.

"You. You're the ghostface killers..." you put it together quickly, all the memories of Sid warning you about moving to that damn town. How she wouldn't trust the silence.

She was right.

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜 | 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

Headcanons on how your first kiss would go with different RE men

tumblr exclusive!

characters: Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy

gender: gn! reader

cw: FLUFF // first kiss :3 // ktober

a/n: guys this is my first non-nsfw post can you believe it

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝕺𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖆 (re3r)

Who initiates?

Either one of you. Although, in most scenarios, it's probably going to be Carlos who initiates your first kiss -- he's a very forward guy

Taste?

His breath isn't awful, although it's not minty either. Very neutral?

I feel like if it was planned beforehand, and he knew he was going to kiss you, he might have chewed some gum? Or at the very least used mouthwash, flossed, scraped his tongue, etc.

He also strikes me as very spur-of-the-moment though, so I feel like in most situations there would be no planning and he'd just go for it. (fuck it, we ball!)

Is there tongue?

...maybe.

No, yeah, this dude would try using tongue on the first kiss LMAO

He'd ease into it though! It wouldn't be straight away.

I don't think it'd be bad if he did, either??? I feel like he'd know what he was doing and it wouldn't be like. AWFUL.

Are they touchy?

YEAAAAAAH !!!!!

You got boobs? They're gonna get squeezed. You got an ass? It's being rubbed. You got arms? They're getting grabbed. You got legs? Already around his hips--

ahem. Conclusion? Yes.

Is it good?

I'd say a first kiss with Carlos, or any kiss with the man at all, would be like an 8 or 9/10. He'd give you the best first kiss out of the other RE men on this list (although, if Ethan Winters were included, he'd easily take that spot. bro's got that supernatural mold-man rizz, or something?)

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 (re: death island)

Who initiates?

Probably you, if it's the movie renditions of Chris. I feel like he'd be waaay more reluctant to suck face as compared to his given re5/re6 personality. Although if there were a bit of teasing and build-up, I could see him getting frustrated and kissing you first.

Taste?

Most likely pretty average breath. I don't think he would really prepare for the kiss if he did know it was coming, though

Not because he doesn't care, but because it just isn't on his mind. I don't think he would think things that far out tbh

He might realize afterward though that his breath could've been STANK. I feel like he would ask and be briefly apologetic over the matter before moving on, and that'd be that

Is there tongue?

No. In fact, I think that if you were to use tongue, he'd probably be shocked and say something about it afterward

Chris probably wouldn't really know how to use his tongue well, either. I feel like he'd just get confused and overwhelmed and go back to kissing you in a regular fashion

Are they touchy?

Semi. I don't think he'd be grabby or overly passionate, but I can see him placing his hands somewhere, like on your hips or arms

Is it good?

Yeah, it'd be a good kiss. Maybe like a 7 or 8/10. Not anything to write home about, but it'd be nice. Just a very regular, low-key interaction

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re2r)

Who initiates?

Either one of you, honestly. If he's the one to initiate the kiss, I can see him planning it beforehand -- it wouldn't be a spur-of-the-moment type deal

I'd also like to note, that he'd probably study up on how to kiss you, LOL. Maybe through Google searches or by watching action movies with romance in them?

Taste?

If he's the initiator and it's been planned -- he's probably going to have a slightly minty taste. Bro is gonna come prepared

HOWEVER. If you're the initiator, you're getting what you get, pal. I feel like he's the type of dude to eat really pungent meals too, like onion-y, garlic-y stuff. Therefore, if this is the case -- good luck, brother

Is there tongue?

No tongue. He'd prefer to share a more gentle, slow kiss for your first.

Again, if you slipped him some tongue, I think he'd be a little taken aback. I don't think he'd say anything, though -- he'd probably just try his best to follow along (although I don't think he'd be very good at it -- I'M SO SORRY FELLOW LEON STANS PLS DON'T COME FOR ME)

Are they touchy?

Not unless you got touchy with him first. And even then, I think he'd be a little hesitant and/or clumsy about it.

You'd probably send him into a mini-panic, tbh. He'd pull through, though.

Is it good?

Depends. On. The. Breath.

If you caught him off guard and he ate some kinda garlic-y pasta or chicken recipe earlier in the day, well...I'm praying for you, buddy. Hard 5/10.

If he's got good breath, then I'd say a solid 7/10. I feel like your first few kisses would be pretty normal, and then as time goes on, he'd work his way up to like an 8 or 9/10 on average -- he'd learn quickly what you like and don't like :P

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

[blakeswritingimagines]

Drama Queen

Summary: You learn the hard way of your boyfriend's darker side.

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: Mean! Logan and Sweet Fem! reader, Dark Yandere! Logan, Name-calling, No protection, Begging, Roughness, Degradation, Slight crying, Slight finger sucking towards the end, Talk of more rounds, Talk of being fucked dumb.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-men character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Logan was never a man to be messed with, especially when it came to his loved ones. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and even more so when it came to his romantic relationships. At first, he was charming and loving, but behind that façade he held onto a dark obsession, one that drove him to extreme lengths to keep you close to him. He grew intensely possessive, watching your every move and checking in on you constantly. He was always the one in control, always needing to know where you were and what you were doing.

You unaware of the extent of his obsession and possessiveness. He was always watching you, no matter where you went. He would follow you to work, your favorite spots in town, and even into your own home. He would hack into your electronics, track your phone, and secretly record your every move. He knew your schedule better than you did, and would always be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to swoop in and assert his presence. He would use his knowledge of your life to manipulate you and make you feel dependent on him. In your innocent and naive worldview, you were unaware of the extent of Logan's obsession and possessiveness. You just thought he was a bit overprotective, always checking in on you and wanting to know where you are. You figured he was just being an attentive boyfriend who was worried for your safety. As your relationship with Logan progressed on, his possessiveness and jealousy grew deeper. He couldn't tolerate any other man even glancing in your direction. One day, a male friend of yours approached you, and Wolverine immediately saw red. He angrily confronted you, demanding to know who this man was and why he was talking to you. You tried to explain that he was just a friend, but Logan refused to believe it.

As you stood there, trying to reason with him, Logan was seething with anger, the veins in his temples pulsing. "Who was that man?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Why was he talking to you?" You felt a pang of fear, unused to seeing him this way. "He's just a friend, Logan," you explained, your voice shaking slightly. "We've known each other for years." Wolverine's eyes narrowed, his gaze intense as he studied your face, searching for any sign of deception. The air around him crackled with tension, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. "A friend," he repeated, the word dripping with skepticism. "One who looks at you like…that." He gestured vaguely towards the memory of your interaction, his jaw clenched. "I don't like it. I don't trust him. And I sure as hell don't want to see you talking to anyone else like that either." His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument. "From now on, if you're going to talk to men, they'd better be me." You bristled at his possessive tone, feeling a flicker of anger. "Logan, I'm free to talk to whoever I want," you shot back, your voice firmer now. "You don't own me." Logan's grip on your chin tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. "I don't own you? Then why are you still here with me?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "If you're so desperate for freedom, then leave. Walk out that door and never look back." His other hand came up to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. "But if you stay," he continued, his breath hot against your ear, "you'll submit to me completely. Body, mind, and soul. Because that's what I crave from you. Total surrender." He nipped at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "So what's it going to be? Freedom or me?" His words were a challenge, a test of your resolve. Your heart thumped in your chest, a mix of anger and arousal swirling within you. You knew you should stand your ground, but the heat of his body pressed against you was hard to resist, and the fierce possessiveness in his voice tugged at something primal within you. "You're impossible," you ground out, trying to sound defiant, but your body betrayed you, pressing against his. He smirked, knowing he'd gotten to you, and his grip on your chin and waist tightened further. A triumphant smile spread across Wolverine's face as he sensed your resistance crumbling.

"Impossible, huh?" he chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through you. "I prefer to think of myself as irresistible." His hands roamed your curves, exploring every inch of you with possessive hunger. "You can deny it all you want, but your body knows the truth. It craves my touch, yearns for my dominance." He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, claiming you thoroughly as his tongue battled with yours for supremacy. When he finally broke away, you were left panting and dazed, your senses reeling from the intensity of the encounter. "Were you born to submit to me?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "Is it in your very nature to be owned, to be mine and mine alone?" Your mind was a whirl of confusion and desire, your body responding to his touch in spite of your resistance. You couldn't deny the truth in his words, how your body seemed to ache for him, how your pulse quickened whenever he touched you. But the idea of submitting to him completely, of being owned by him, was both terrifying and appealing. "I… I…" you stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought as he continued to caress you with possessive hands and lips. Every touch seemed to stoke the flames of your desire, making it harder and harder to remember why you were supposed to resist. "No?" Logan's eyes gleamed with victory as he watched you struggle with your desires, your resolve weakening under his relentless onslaught. "No?" he echoed, his voice laced with amusement and anticipation. "Then prove it, bitch. Show me you can resist me." With a sudden movement, he released you, stepping back to create distance between your bodies. His arms crossed over his chest, a challenging glint in his eye. "Go ahead, walk away. Leave me and never look back. If you truly want freedom, then take it." The offer hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. But even as he spoke the words, Wolverine's gaze remained fixed on you, tracking every subtle shift in your posture, every fleeting emotion that crossed your face. He knew you wouldn't leave, not when your body was screaming for his touch, begging to be claimed once more.

You stood there, stunned by his sudden absence, your body immediately aching for the feel of him against you. The heat that had pooled in your core was still there, begging to be satisfied. You knew what he was doing, testing you, trying to get you to give in to your desires. But as much as you wanted to give in, to let yourself surrender to him completely, you refused to buckle under his challenge. "You're an ass," you muttered, your voice filled with annoyance and desire. Logan's smirk returned, wider and more arrogant than before. "An ass, huh?" he drawled, uncrossing his arms to stalk towards you once more. "Maybe I am. Maybe that's exactly what you need, someone to put you in your place and remind you who's really in control here." He grasped your wrists, pinning them above your head roughly as he leaned in close, his breath fanning over your face. "Because right now, baby, you're nothing but a needy little slut, craving my cock like a drug. And I'm more than happy to give it to you, to fill you up until you can't think straight anymore." His hips pressed against yours, the bulge of his erection evident even through their clothes. "So… beg for it." Your breath hitched at his words, the dirty talk making your mind fuzzy and your body overheat. His hands on your wrists, the press of his body against yours, all of it sent a heady mix of desire and submission coursing through you. Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, your voice quivered slightly as you spoke. "Get real," you repeated, your voice a weak attempt at conviction. A small hitch in your breath betrayed your growing desperation, and you could feel yourself starting to crumble under his intense gaze.

Logan's grin widened, his eyes burning with triumph as he sensed your faltering resolve. "Oh, I'm very real, sweetheart," he purred, his grip on your wrists tightening ever so slightly. "And so are your needs. You want to be dominated, used, fucked senseless by me. Admit it." He rocked his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. "Begging is such a pretty sound coming from your lips. I bet you'd look even prettier on your knees, choking on my cock while you plead for more." His free hand slid down to cup your sex through your clothing, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Come on, baby. Let's hear those sweet, submissive moans. Beg me to fuck you like the desperate little whore you are." You bit your lip, trying to hold back the whimper building in your throat, but it escaped anyway, a needy little mewl that sounded far too much like submission. Your knees nearly buckled at his words, the crude imagery painting vivid pictures in your mind. You could almost taste the saltiness of his skin, feel the thick girth of his cock stretching your throat as you pleaded for more. His hand on your sex sent jolts of electricity through your body, making your clit throb with need. "Please," you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Just… please." Your face flushed with shame and arousal, you met his gaze, your eyes pleading for the release only he could provide. "Fuck me," you begged, the words tumbling out in a rush.

A wicked grin spread across Logan's face as he heard your desperate plea, his eyes darkening with lust and satisfaction. "That's it, baby. That's what I wanted to hear," he growled, his voice rough with desire. Without warning, he spun you around and bent you over the nearby table, sweeping its contents onto the floor with a crash. "Such a good little slut, begging for my cock like it's the only thing that matters." He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his chiseled torso and the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. "Time to give you what you need, baby." The cool wood pressed against your heated skin as he yanked your pants down, exposing your dripping sex to the open air. "Fuck, you're soaked already," he groaned, running a finger teasingly along your slit. "Such a needy little cunt, so ready for my cock." He freed himself from his jeans, the thick head of his dick nudging insistently at your entrance. "Brace yourself, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin this tight pussy," he promised darkly. Your breath caught in your throat, the anticipation and excitement coursing through you. His hands on your body, the rough way he manhandled you, it all sent a thrill through you. As he positioned himself behind you, you gripped the table, bracing yourself for the inevitable. "Logan…" you gasped, your voice filled with a mix of fear and desire. "Please, be gentle." Logan chuckled darkly, amused by your plea for gentleness. "Gentle? Oh baby, where's the fun in that?" he teased, rubbing the tip of his cock teasingly along your slick folds. "Besides, we both know you don't really want gentle. What you want is to be fucked hard and deep, to feel every thick inch of me splitting you open." Without further warning, he grabbed your hips and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. "Unnngh fuck!" he grunted, savoring the exquisite feeling of your walls clenching around him. "So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for my cock." He set a brutal pace, slamming into you with powerful strokes that shook the table beneath you. "Take it, you filthy slut."

Even as the words left your lips, you knew it was a hopeless plea. Logan was not a gentle and caring man, especially not when it involved you like this and what he wanted from you. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. A sharp cry tore from your throat as he entered you, the sudden fullness overwhelming your senses. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but your body quickly adjusted, welcoming the intrusion. Each harsh thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your inner walls fluttering and gripping him tightly. "Ah!" you moaned shamelessly, pushing your hips back to meet his brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with your wanton cries. Logan groaned in approval as he felt you start to move with him, meeting each punishing thrust with equal fervor. "That's it, baby. Fucking take it," he snarled, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back as he continued to pound into you. "This is what you were made for, to be my personal fuck toy." His other hand reached around to rub tight circles on your clit, the added stimulation making your walls clamp down on him like a vice. "Gonna fill this greedy cunt with my cum, mark you as mine inside and out." He could feel his orgasm approaching, his balls drawing up tight as he chased his release. "Come on, slut. Cum on my cock like the desperate whore you are. Scream my name for everyone to hear who you belong to!"

Your back arched sharply as he pulled your hair, the slight pain only heightening your pleasure. His fingers on your clit sent jolts of electricity through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Logan! Oh fuck," you cried out, no longer caring about keeping quiet. The depraved words falling from his lips, claiming you as his property, only fueled the fire raging inside you. Your body tensed, every muscle drawn taut as your climax approached. With a final, particularly deep thrust and a pinch to your clit, you came undone. "Logan!" you screamed, your vision whiting out as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. Your pussy spasmed wildly around his cock, milking him for all he was worth as you rode out your high. Logan let out a guttural roar as your walls clamped down on him like a silken fist, your orgasm triggering his own explosive release. "Fuck! Take it all, you filthy slut!" he bellowed, slamming into you one last time before hilting himself fully inside you. Thick ropes of hot cum painted your insides as he emptied himself, marking you as his territory. His hips jerked erratically, riding out the waves of his intense climax. After long moments, he collapsed against your back, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your highs. "Goddamn, baby. That was incredible," he murmured, nipping at your ear. "You took my cock so well, like you were born for it." You whimpered softly as you felt his hot seed filling you up, marking you from the inside. Your legs trembled with the effort of holding yourself up, your whole body feeling like jelly in the aftermath of your intense orgasm. As he slumped against you, you couldn't help but lean back into his solid warmth, despite the degrading things he had said and done. There was something oddly comforting about being wrapped up in his strong arms, even if it was purely physical. "Mmmm," you hummed, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. "Wow." Your voice was hoarse from screaming, a physical reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you.

Logan smirked against your neck, feeling smug and satisfied. He loved seeing you like this - wrecked, marked, and utterly spent from his thorough claiming of your body. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" he teased, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Or maybe it's just because I fucked you so hard and stupid, you can't even string two words together." He slowly pulled out of you, both of you groaning at the sensation. A trickle of his cum dribbled out of your used hole, and he swiped it up with his fingers, bringing them to your lips. "Clean up the mess you made, slut. Taste how good we are together." His eyes gleamed with wicked intent, already thinking about all the other ways he could use and debase you before the night was through. Your tongue darted out instinctively to lick his fingers clean, tasting the combined essence of you together. The flavor was musky and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. It served as a tangible reminder of your submission to him, of how thoroughly he had claimed you. "Mmmm, delicious," you purred, your voice still husky from your earlier cries. Slowly, you pushed yourself upright, turning in his arms to face him. Your eyes met his, hazy with post-coital bliss and a hint of mischief. "You always know just how to satisfy me, Logan," you murmured, trailing a finger down his chest. "But I hope you're not done with me yet. Because I have a few ideas of my own on how to make this night even more… memorable."

Logan's eyebrows shot up in surprise and intrigue at your bold statement, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh? Is that so?" he drawled, his hands coming to rest on your hips possessively. "Well, color me curious, baby. What kind of naughty ideas do you have rattling around in that pretty little head of yours?" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because you should know by now that I'm always up for a challenge. Especially when it comes to pushing your limits and making you scream my name." His hands slid around to grab your ass, squeezing the firm globes roughly. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind, sweetheart? And I mean everything. Don't leave out a single dirty detail."

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

stalker!reader/unsub!reader for spencer reid

tw: mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of murder, usual CM gore, suicide.

-noticing him one day when he was at your job for a case asking questions about a victim/killer. i’m gonna say season 4 reid (before he gets shot in the leg). you were stuck to the shadows just observing him and his colleague when boom! his eyes meet yours and you feel a spark, your body tingles. he noticed you.

-he walks away from his colleague who was talking with your boss, towards you, hands in his pockets and this long wavy hair swaying with his motions. he stopped three steps away from you and said, “hello, i’m doctor reid, with the fbi. i was wondering if i could ask some questions about…” his voice was deep and smooth, he pulled you into a hypnotic trance. you just nodded and answered his questions honestly.

-he came back a second time, just saying that the case was over. that was it, you weren’t even personally involved, but he came back for you. he must’ve felt that same spark, that pull to someone magnetic. he even gave you his card and said, “if you even are in area or in need of help, just ask for me.” now how could you not be obsessed with that man after that.

-so you started to follow all the cases the fbi or bau was mentioned, hoping for a glimpse of the names spencer or dr. reid. you kept a folder of photos captured of him from news footage or newspaper articles, red inked hearts circled his head while anyone else was harshly scrubbed away in black ink. his gentle smiles or lovely eyes pierced at your heart each time, it was slowly bleeding into your lungs filling you up to suffocation. you need spencer reid.

-when cases went quiet you started to search relentlessly for him online. you forced yourself to ingest every thesis paper he’s ever written and watch any lecture that was posted. he drew you in with the wave of his hands or how he would ramble then bring himself back to the topic at hand. how you wanted to pick his brain, just sit and listen to him for hours taking about anything he’s stored away.

-it’s been a year since that case. you miss him, you want him in your grasp. maybe you should put that business card to use and just call it, that’d be a lot easier. so you mustered up the courage, pulling the card from your wallet and dialing his number you breathed slowly and pressed call. the line rang three times before it picked up and you heard his voice, “dr. reid, how can i help?”

“uh, this is y/n…” he said he’d remember you so you just gave your name for recognition. the line was quiet for three seconds and you could hear some faint chatter on his end before he responded, “i’m sorry, i- i don’t seem to-“ and you hung up the call before he could break your heart further. he lied.

-it was like you just went through a breakup for a relationship that wasn’t even real. your bleeding heart completely cracked and spilled like fire through your veins. spencer reid is going to regret ever forgetting you and his promise. so you started to do some studying, researching past cases with the bau involved, looking for inspiration from convicted killers

-you find some that were unique but still easy to accomplish with your own physic in play. most of these killers were men, stronger and taller than you. you start to craft your calling cards, poems and roses, anything symbolic to a relationship and heartbreak. you’re nervous your first night on the hunt. you decide to go a bar and wait for someone to make their way into your web.

-you’d dance on them and kiss them, closing your eyes shut and imagining this it what spencer would taste like, how his hands trailing over your curves would release butterflies in your belly. his breath ghosting along your pulse before sucking a bruise into your skin. “wanna get out of here?” seductive eyes watching your toy nod and drag you behind him out the club, heading to his place.

-the make out session was hot and getting steamy, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. you played the kinky card, “gonna tie you up and gag you, be a good boy.” left in nothing but his boxers he was bond and gagged. playing a teasing game you left him alone while looking for some type of weapon. pulling a pair of black gloves from your clutch and the pointiest knife from a drawer you dragged yourself back to his bed, straddling him at the waist, keeping your hands behind your back. “you’ve made this night very special. wanna know why?” playing coy while pulling the gag down from a second.

the toy cocked a brow with a shit eating smirk, “of course, doll face.” his eyes dropping to your chest and it caused you to grimace. “you’re the first victim of many.” whispered as you slid the fabric back into his mouth

“wait wh-“ muffled when you stabbed him with an angered forced into his heart. his screams were still loud but with music playing in the background and his mouth full, no one would be the wiser.

-you called in sick for the next few days, needing to be consistent for the bau to be called in. you’d go to clubs or even strip clubs, any place that’d have willing men bring you home preying on you while you were the pretender. you kept the killings pretty simple, just stabs to the heart and letting them bleed out, you started to draw heart on their walls from their blood, the red turning black when drying. and finally before leaving a folded note with a poem or a piece of your soul written out was safety pinned to their skin.

-the news started to call you ‘the heartbreak killer’ stupid, but they always wanted to give killers case names. adding a new flare to your lastest kill, you’ve scattered red and white rose petals over their body and a ruby red kiss to their cheek. your fifth victim in a week period. you had a hunger for it now, killing gave you an adrenaline rush that was better than any rollercoaster or scary movie, you vibrate with excitement each night. you started dressing more bolder, wearing wigs even, making sure you stood out for anyone that was connected to your toy of the night.

- “we’ve called in the fbi behavior analysis unit to help us find this serial killer. with them here we plan to catch them before there is another victim.” goosebumps scattered over your forearms hearing the sheriff’s announcement. finally, he’s here. your spencer reid came for you. “in do time, my love. we’ll be reunited properly.”

-you took a sixth life the night they arrived, wanting them to know your usual stalking grounds. it would be easier to ‘accidentally’ bump into spencer, rather than actively search him out. so the next day you dressed down, wanting to look more normal, become a wallflower. you were nursing a drink in a shaded corner with watching eyes surveying the crowed hoping to see the tall dr. reid. “uh, excuse me, miss.” your heart skipped a beat, it recognized his voice even over the thumping music rattling your skull.

you turned his way casually and said, “you’re very pretty,” sipping on the black straw of your soda. spencer smiled hesitantly and floundered for a response, “uh tha- thank you. i’m dr. spencer reid i work with the fbi-“ he flashed his badge and you caught a glimpse of a younger photo, “there’s been a series of murders in the area and we suspect the killer visits here. have you seen anything suspicious lately?”

your nostrils flared, he still didn’t remember you not even face to face. “well all men are suspicious in clubs,” dulled chuckles at your retort. you saw spencer’s eyebrows quirked, “are- are you by yourself?” he sounded concerned for a stranger, but you weren’t a stranger. “yeah, my friends left me a few hours ago but i just didn’t want to go home yet.” shrugging him off.

he licked his lips, “well i’d suggest not visiting his establishment for the time being.” “but all her victims are men, so i’m safe. but thanks for the concern, nice to meet you doctor.” and you left the crowded bar with a smirk knowing you gave him a hint.

-you went to work the following day, just telling your coworkers you came down with food poisoning and needed and extra day to recover. they cooed over you but you knew most of them didn’t care, its fine you weren’t planning to stay here forever like most. you were cleaning tables and fixing displays when there was a tap to your shoulder. brittany, a coworker, pointed over her shoulder and said, “there’s a spencer reid here to see you. says he’s with the fbi.” you had to repress your smile.

“dr. reid, pleasure to see you again.” a welcoming smile and open posture. he cocked his head, “i- i remember you. from last year…” it’s like you could see his gears turning and clicking things into place. you didn’t bother denying anything just saying, “wow, what a great memory you have.”

his round eyes stared into your soul, “eidetic memory. you called me a month ago…” now you showed confusion, “no i didn’t. sadly lost your card, but i’m safe. we should have dinner while you’re here.” being bold.

spencer nodded his head, “that sounds nice. tomorrow night works for me, i could meet you here.” he seemed excited to have a romantic date with you. your heart raced, “it’s a date.” and you headed back to your work.

-you changed into date appropriate clothing once you clocked out and waited five minutes outside before you saw the tall spencer reid walking up to your side. he had a sweater vest over a button up with a tie around his neck, his gun wasn’t holstered to his hip for the night and his hair was a bit wind swept. you could eat him up.

“bet you have a bunch of girls after you while away on cases.” walking beside him when he suggested an chinese restaurant just down the block. he chuckled, oh your heart stuttered at the melody, “not really. most people don’t like my… personality.” sneaking a glance at you.

“well they’re missing out, but happy since i’m the lucky girl at your side.” looping an arm through his and pulling his close so you could lean your head onto his bicep. “i’ve dreamed of this since you left.” sighing into the air then pressing a kiss to his fabric covered skin, later you’ll get to taste him.

- “i have a question for you.” it’s been an hour into your date, stomach filled with delicious food and effortless conversation. you nodded at spencer to go forward. “at the bar you said the unsub was a women, what made you think that? no sex has been mentioned in the news yet.”

you pursed your lips in thought, “well, stabs to the heart seems emotionally personal. and the hearts in blood and rose petals, along with her leaving love poems. only a hopeless romantic that was horribly heartbroken would do this art.” slurping noodles into your mouth for punctuation. you weren’t trying to hide your truth, “it was the only way to get your attention.”

- “my attention?” spencer questioned. “well, i’ve missed you and when i tried calling-“ “so that was you.” “and you lied about remembering me!” slamming a fist onto the tabletop forcing it to shake. you leaned in close, “i thought we had something special. you didn’t bother trying to reach me in anyway and i’ve stayed updated with your career.”

“i- im sorry, y/n. my job is just very demanding. i would’ve reached out. i- i didn’t think you felt the way i did.” spencer stretched a hand over the table and rested it atop yours, his long fingers curling along your wrist.

“oh baby, the spark when we first met was instant. i was devoted to you the moment our eyes met, i’d do anything for you.” allowing your other hand to creep up spencer’s arm. “i’d kill myself for you if you asked, i’ve killed for you. would you do the same for me?” doeing your eyes and pouting your lips.

spencer leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, “anything for you, my love.” whispered just between the two of you. you smiled wickedly, “wanna head to my place?”

-once your door was unlocked and open you pounced onto spencer, hands holding his cheeks so you could press your lips onto his. his palms gripped at your hips and pulled your flush to his chest as his mouth devoured yours, moans ripped from your throat.

“fbi! hands in the air!” heavy footsteps and loud shouts broke the air. you didn’t bother acknowledging them, just submerging yourself into spencer until his arms twisted you around and held you in a tight hug. “don’t fight them. stay alive for me.” spencer whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

-six months. you’ve been institutionalized for six months since your lawyer pleaded insanity to the court. said you did everything because you started to stalk and become obsessive with doctor spencer reid. you didn’t bother mentioning that the killings made you feel stable. you’ve been sentenced for twenty five years to life, chances of parole after fifteen years. your family rarely visited you, you didn’t care. you only enjoyed visitation when he was there.

“the doctor is here.” an officer pulled you from the library to bring you into the visitation center. nervously you fiddled with your hair, straightening your beige uniform, wanting to appear put together for your boyfriend. he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, but he allowed you to call him that.

“hi baby.” sidling into your seat across from him, a gigantic smile hurting your cheeks. he wore his standard outfit, sweater vest over a long sleeve button up, no tie today and his collarbones were on display for you along with his forearms. “you look very sexy today.”

“and you look quite pretty today.” spencer visits you once a week at most, sometimes twice if he’s already in the state for a case. you heard it was cause your psychiatrist told him that your symptoms were worse if he was gone for long periods at a time causing you to act out and harm yourself or others. but you know it’s cause he loves you.

“what book are you reading today?” jerking his head to the worn spine. you peered down at the titles with a twisted smile then looked him dead in the eyes, “romeo and juliet. quiet the love story don’t you think?”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Can You Please Be Mine? Part 2: Slip Into Me✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so so excited to share this little piece I’ve been writing! I really love this story, the chemistry Joel and reader have, and how flirty and fun this chapter ended up being. I want to hear all your thoughts on this one 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I want to converse with you guys 🩷

Chapter Summary: Joel takes you on a date to the fair

Word Count: 11.2k (I had a lot to say! I couldn’t stop writing their cute little love story unfolding)

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Chapter Tags: So much flirting, teasing, Joel takes reader on a date to the fair, kissing, chemistry, more flirting, holding hands, heavy making out, grinding on Joel’s lap, switching POV, reader has hair and is tan, allusions to smut, cute nicknames

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel Miller is a complete mess the rest of the day at the fair. He can’t think straight, not with the way the folded piece of paper is scorching his fingertips that sit in the pit of his pocket, calling out to him like a damn temptress that purrs his name to slip the digits into his phone.

He bites the inside of his cheek, furrowing his eyebrows every single time he thinks of those fucking long, tan legs. Those gorgeous eyes that seem to burn holes in the back of his eyes, and those short denim shorts that he wants so badly to rip off your thick thighs that scream his name. He thinks you’d look so fucking perfect completely naked, splayed across the soft sheets of his bed. Long, tan legs, the perfect curves, probably glistening with sticky slick waiting for him to lick clean. Fuck.

   He can’t help the way he scans his eyes over the thick crowd of people that floods the fair, hoping he’ll snag a peek of your sweet smile that he wants so badly to sink his lips against. He thinks you’d taste so good, maybe cherry flavored lip gloss, a soft tongue that he’ll let lap against his own, sucking him dry as you take the soul right out of him. He thinks he wants to take you on a date so he can see that pretty face, that soft, flirtatious enigma he wants to twist his mind around as he wraps you completely around his index finger. He has to have you, he just has to. 

   He should be enjoying the fair with his daughter, should be paying attention to her as she picks at the stack of French fries he just bought her as she rambles on about upcoming volleyball summer camp and her friend’s pool party, but he can’t. He just can’t. His mind is focused solely on you. The prettiest flower in the crowd he ever did see. And you’d be his. At least he hoped. 

   “Dad?”

   The word comes out in a fog, he almost misses it as he mindlessly searches through the bustling crowd. He needs to see your face, that gorgeous, radiant, perfect…

   “Dad, are you even listening to me?” Sarah asks as she chews on the end of a golden French fry and stares up at her distracted father. 

   “Hmm? Oh yeah, kid. I heard ya,” he murmurs as his brown eyes become focused on his daughter as her long curls blow gently through the hot Texas breeze. 

   “You just seem a little distracted is all,” she mumbles as she rolls her eyes and finishes off the French fry in her hand. 

   Joel rakes a hand through his dark scruff and sighs in frustration. “I’m fine, Sarah. Ain’t distracted ‘bout nothin’,” he huffs. But he knows it’s a lie, a damn good lie. Because he is distracted. Distracted by the beautiful girl with the vanilla ice cream cone that teased him till he about came completely undone in line. He was in for the ride of his life. 

   After he gets home that night, he stares hard at the creased piece of paper as he reads your name over and over and over again. He memorizes it, studies the jumble of numbers until he can repeat them with his eyes closed. He grips the paper so tight that he thinks he’ll tear it in half, his mind caving in just like that of a mad man who’s lovesick from a stupid crush.

   He finally comes to his senses and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he types out your name and number into his contacts list. After pressing save, he stares at the screen, his eyes burning into your name as he hovers over the call button. His mind starts racing a million miles an hour as his eyes go cross eyed from looking so hard at your name on the screen. 

   What if you don’t answer? What if you’re not really interested? What if it was all a game as a way to tease him? Surely not. No. Not with the way you were looking at him, your eyes burning into his like sparkling fireworks as you smirked his way, lapping up ice cream as you teased your tongue around the cold edges as he nearly collapsed to the ground. You were a feisty little firecracker, and he knew it. He wanted to taste those sparks, see just how far he could push you. 

   Without waiting another minute, he presses the call button as sweat pools on his forehead, tousled curls sticking to his tanned skin as he paces mindlessly in his room just waiting for you to answer. He’s about to give up after five repeated rings until he hears you pick up the phone on the next ring. 

   “Hello?”

   His eyes go wide as his pupils expand, fingers digging deep into the denim of his jean pockets as his throat runs dry. That voice. That melodious, sweet lilt of your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

   You hear some rustling on the end of the line and then finally a voice comes through the end of the speaker. “Ummm, hi.”

   A deep, baritone voice seeps through the phone. Slow, a slurred Southern drawl, charming, and so sexy. It makes you gulp down nerves as slick automatically pools in your lace. It’s him. The man you couldn’t keep your eyes off at the fair. He called. 

   “Is this… ahh. You’re the one from the fair, aren’t you?” you ask smiling, a stupid grin spreading wide across your face as you bite your lower lip, your free hand gripping the pink sheets tightly as you grasp anything that’ll stop the excitement from taking you on a ride. 

   “Mhm. How’d you guess?” he asks as you hear a deep chuckle come alive on the other end of the phone. 

   God his laugh sounds like complete music to your ears. A bravado sound you could put on repeat like a favorite song you’d never get tired of. You already had it bad. 

   “Oh, I don’t know. A number I didn’t know and no text? Funny. Why didn’t you just text me? Most people just text nowadays,” you laugh as you tease him through the phone. 

   Another deep chuckle and his smooth voice is carrying through the line. “Guess I’m jus’ old fashioned, darlin’. Maybe I jus’ wanted to hear what you sounded like. Kinda like this better than a text.”

   “Oh, I see,” you blush as you curl your fingers through the pink silk, feet pressing against one another as you repeat the word he just called you over the phone. Darlin’. You loved the sound of that. 

   “So, what’s your name, cowboy?” you giggle as you feel heat course through your chest. 

   “Cowboy, huh? That my new nickname or somethin’?” he asks with a laugh as you hear that sweet Southern drawl drag through the phone. Oh, this one already has you on a tight string, and you’re ready to never let go. 

   “Mmm, it fits you well, I think,” you giggle as you twirl a piece of hair around your finger nervously. 

   “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he laughs as you imagine him raking a hand through those gorgeous curls of his. Something you want to do. You bet it’s so soft, lush, velvet-like…

   “Joel,” he says through the phone, bringing you out of your lovesick daydream of running your fingers through his soft hair. 

   “Hmm?” you ask confused, your mind focusing back on that deep baritone voice that you just can’t get enough of. 

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.”

   “Joel Miller…” you repeat, your smile widening on your face as you stare up at the ceiling filled with hanging fairy lights that make the room sparkle. 

   “That’s right, darlin’.”

   “I like it,” you answer as you twist in the sheets, your soft skin rolling over silk as you see yourself through the long mirror that hangs on the wall. Your cheeks bright red, a Cheshire cat grin splayed wide on your face as you nearly pant out with glee. You look like a puppy. A stupid lovesick puppy. 

   “Glad ya do,” he chuckles as he takes a couple more seconds before he says anything else. “So, ummm. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’re not busy tomorrow night, would you maybe wanna go to the fair with me?”

   Your jaw drops open, your mind dizzy with possibilities as you push yourself to the edge of the bed and clench your thighs together. “Like a date?” you ask wide-eyed, your heart pounding impossibly fast in your chest as you hope it is a date. 

   “Mhm. A date. If that’s what you want, that is.” His voice is low, fluctuating as you can picture his hand deep in his pocket, his fingers flexing with nerves as he waits for your answer. He has it as bad as you do, you think. 

   “A date…” you repeat steadily, your words lingering as you smile into the phone. “Okay, cowboy. It’s a date.”

   “Alright,” he chuckles as his laugh echoes through the glowing room. “How does six o’clock sound? I could pick you up. Jus’ text me your address.”

   “Six sounds perfect,” you purr, your eyes lighting up like a damn sparkler as you kick your legs in a frenzy underneath you. 

   “Six it is. Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” Darlin’. His words drip down you like sweet honey, a taste you want to devour down. You bet he tastes so sweet. 

   “Mkay. See ya tomorrow, Joel. Bye.”

   “Bye, sweetheart.”

   The call clicks to an end, the line going dead as you fall back into the silky sheets and scream into your hands. You’re going on a date tomorrow with the hottest Southern gentleman alive. You have to find something to wear!

   You stand in the glow of the bathroom mirror and twirl around in your light green summer dress that grazes just a little above the middle of your thighs. The perfect length to tease Joel just a little and show off your tanned legs. You brush out your soft curls and dab some shiny lip gloss over your pink lips as you take one more good look at yourself. You’re more than ready. You spray a spritz of vanilla perfume on your neck and call it good as you sit the glass bottle back down on the edge of the sink.

   When you turn around, you hear a couple of loud knocks echo across the hall from the front door. Joel. He’s here. You grab your light blue over the shoulder purse and wrap it around yourself as you pad toward the door in your white slip-on Vans. Your heart is galloping in your chest like a thousand race horses colliding their heavy hooves against a racetrack, your cheeks burning from nerves as you make your way to the front solid wooden door. Please like me, please like me, please like me.  

   When you twist the doorknob and open the door, your eyes go wide as you take in the sight that stands in front of you. Joel stands with his large arms crossed over his broad chest, his rolled up dark green flannel clinging to the thick muscles of his arms as he smirks flirtatiously down at you. His tousled curls are slicked back, and he smells like fresh cologne and mahogany. A kind of scent that could pull you in just by the way he smells. Intoxicating. 

   “Hi,” you say nervously as you shut the door closed behind you, your fingers behind your back digging into the soft material of your dress as you fight off nerves that pull at your insides. 

   “Hi,” he repeats softly as his eyes drag down your summer dress and your tanned legs slowly. He gulps as he looks back up into your eyes and smiles, making his eyes crinkle at the sides as your heart flutters in your chest. 

   He’s so handsome. 

   “My, don’t you look pretty,” he says with the warmth of his deep voice which seems to surround you, encase you in nothing but comfort. You could listen to him talk all day long if he sounded like that. Warm, deep baritone voice, slow, syrupy, exactly how you pictured it. Perfection. 

   You feel your cheeks burn bright red as you giggle like a little school girl and flutter your eyelashes up at him. “Thanks,” you say nervously. 

   “You ready to go?” he asks as he pushes off the brick wall. 

   “Mhm.”

   “Well, c’mon then,” he laughs as he leads you to his red Chevy truck. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you up. His calloused hand seems to burn inside yours, a wildfire that simmers all the way down to your core the longer his fingers are on your skin. When he releases, he slams the door shut and makes his way over to the driver’s side. 

   When he hops in and starts the truck up, the engine rumbles to life exactly like your nerves do. You feel like a livewire that’s ready to explode. You’re in his truck, going on a date with him. You still can’t believe this is happening. 

   When the radio springs to life, you hear “Cherry Waves” by Deftones play softly against the hum of the speakers. Your eyes widen as a smile creeps up against your shiny lips. “Deftones, huh?”

   Joel looks over at you as he furrows his eyebrows together. “You know Deftones?” he asks surprised, his grip on the leather steering wheel tightening as he takes you in. 

   “Yeah! Doesn’t everyone?” you laugh as you buckle your seatbelt and look back up at him. He’s still looking at you in awe as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. The sight makes your stomach flip circles as he continues to look at you, the orbs of his honey eyes seeming to glow as you stare into those pits of pure warmth. 

   “Not exactly,” he chuckles as he pulls out of the quiet apartment complex and into the busy streets of Austin. “You like rock music?” 

   “What do you think?” you giggle as you turn the volume up one notch and lean your head back against the soft brown seat. 

   Joel turns his head toward you and cocks up a thick eyebrow as he smirks over at you. “Okay, smart alec. What’s your favorite song by them then?” 

   “Hmm, let me think,” you hum as you pick apart your brain, “probably Change.”

   “Mmm. Guess you are a fan,” he smiles as he drives down the busy street full of speeding cars and hovering beam lights. 

   “And yours?” you ask with the hint of a smirk on your face. 

   “Rosemary.”

   “Ahh. A classic. One of my favorites.”

   “Yeah?” 

   “Mhm,” you hum as you look out the glass window. You can see his reflection vaguely as he looks wondrously at you, and it makes butterflies flit through your stomach. 

   After a minute of silence, with only the hum of the radio playing, Joel clears his throat as you turn back to him. “So, slippin’ me your number in line, huh? Ain’t you a bold girl.”

   You raise your eyebrow at him and lean a little closer as you inhale his mahogany scent as it makes your head a little dizzy. “I mean, I was just trying to get your attention.”

   He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you had my attention the moment I saw you up on that carousel. You didn’t even have to try.”

   You feel your cheeks flush pink as you twist your fingers in your lap, your skirt barely covering your thighs as you find Joel’s eyes flit down to them. You pull nervously at your cotton dress and look back up at him shyly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” 

   “Well, darlin’, I’m glad you slipped me your number or I wouldn’t have got to take out the prettiest girl in Austin.”

   You bite your lip and slide back into the seat, your nerves buzzing through your body as you try to relax and enjoy the ride. “Prettiest girl in Austin?”

   “That’s right, darlin’. Prettiest girl.”

   You turn your head to look at the sun slowly slipping under fluffy clouds as sunset draws close. You let the music flow through your eardrums as you bask in the large presence of the man that was made of dreams. Joel Miller. 

   In just a few short minutes, Joel’s parking the truck in the parking lot and walking you up to the shiny entry gates to the fair. He pulls his leather wallet out and purchases two tickets and then leads you through the metal gates. When you get inside, the glow of spinning rides and lit up food stands cover the entirety of the fair, the thick crowd sprawled every which way as you walk through the bustling crowd of people. 

   “You must like the fair,” you say as you pass a little girl with a clump of blue cotton candy in her hands. 

   “Why do you say that?” Joel asks as he walks side by side with you. 

   “Well, you were just here yesterday,” you laugh as you look up at him. He looks nervous as he rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper scruff and nonchalantly shakes his slicked back curls. “So, why’d you come back?”

   “Because,” he starts as he turns his body to you, “I wanted to take ya out. And I figured dinner would be nice and all, but thought maybe this would be more fun. A better way to get to know you. Maybe make you feel more comfortable,” he shrugs as he laughs nervously next to you. 

   “Oh.” He’s so… thoughtful. He really took the time to think that through to do what he thought would make you more comfortable. He was so… good. 

   “Hope that’s alright. You didn’t have to come back if you didn’t want to…”

   “No.” You cut him off and put your hand around his wrist as you turn to stand in front of him. “I wanted to come with you. This is perfect.”

   “You sure? You’re not just pullin’ my leg?” he asks with  knit together eyebrows, his jaw tense as you see his eyes burn like fire into yours.

   You step closer to him and nod your head up and down, flexing your fingers around his soft flannel shirt as you respond just loud enough for only him to hear over the buzz of the crowd. “Joel, I wouldn’t be here if I was just pulling your leg. Why’d you think I slipped you my number, hmm? I thought you were the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Didn’t want to miss the opportunity to pass me by to not get a chance to make a move on you,” you gush as you watch him relax against your touch. 

   “Darlin’, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop sweet talkin’ me or you’re gonna have me turnin’ this whole damn fair red,” he chuckles low as he slips his fingers behind your back, just above your hip as you feel warm heat slide down your spine. 

   “You mean I can make a big, strong, handsome man blush?” you giggle as he shakes his head again. 

   “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya?”

   “Guess so. Wanna see how many colors I can paint your face?” you laugh flirtatiously as he rolls his eyes.

   “C’mon, trouble. Such a little flirt.” He smirks and pulls you along the row of lit up games and lets his hand linger over your dress as you feel the tinge of red fill your cheeks.

   “So, umm. How old are ya, sweetheart?” he asks nervously as you walk past a group of teenagers gathering around a basketball game. 

   “Twenty-six,” you say cautiously as you look up under your long eyelashes, blinking away any doubts you have that he’ll think you’re too young. 

   “Twenty-six, yeah? Wow,” he laughs as he scratches the back of his head, making his bicep cling tight to the green flannel shirt, “I can remember when I was that young. Was a long time ago.”

   You scrunch your nose up at him and look curiously at him. “You’re making yourself sound like you’re ancient or something,” you laugh as you pass a little boy playing a ring toss game. 

   “I am ancient,” he responds as he looks the other way, shying away from you. 

   You pull on his flannel until his face is turned back toward you, making sure his brown eyes snap back down to you. “How old are you?” you ask with a raised brow.

   “Too old to be with a pretty young thing like you,” he scoffs as he tries to look away again. 

   You pull a little on the fabric of his collar until he has no choice but to look straight at you. “How old?” You don’t give him a chance to shy away again, he’s locked in, he has to answer you. 

   “Forty-seven,” he mumbles as you see a flash of panic through those big doe eyes of his. You smile up at him, and he just looks at you with his mouth parted open, like he can’t believe you’re smiling at him. “What? Why are you smilin’?”

   “Because,” you laugh as you drop your hand from his soft collar, “you’re not old, Joel. You’re just right.” 

   His features soften up, and you swear you see him sigh as relief seems to wash over him. He thought he was too old for you? “Jus’ right, huh?” he smirks as the corners of his mouth tilt up to be the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s so pretty. Especially in the colorful swirling lights of the fair.

   “Just right,” you confirm as you walk by a booth of various shapes of balloons.

   “Hey, mister! Why don’t you come play a round of darts and win your girl a prize?” The game worker shouts across the way as Joel turns his head and furrows his eyebrows as he looks back and forth between you and the game stand awkwardly. 

   When he takes another glance at you, he gives you a soft smile as the glow of his eyes turn lighter. “Wanna play a round?” he asks as he nods his head to the game stand.

   You turn your head and take in the row of balloons that paint the wall purple, red, yellow, green, and pink. All shapes and sizes of stuffed animals sit against the back wall, and you smirk up his way. “Think you can take out more balloons than me?” you ask playfully as you flick your hair behind your shoulder. 

   “Only one way to find out, darlin’.” He narrows his eyes mischievously and grabs your wrist as he pulls you to the edge of the stand.

   Joel hands five dollars to the worker, and he gives him ten black pointed darts. He hands you five of them and holds his arm toward the board filled with balloons. “Ladies first.”

   You smile and walk up to the line of white tape and carefully assess your movements. You decide to go for the middle row first. That should be safest. You line up your first dart and shoot. The pointy end barely grazes the edge of a yellow balloon and falls with a bang to the ground. 

   “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You try again, but you miss again. Why can’t you just get one fucking balloon?

   You huff out and purse your lips together as you feel your thighs rub together in the heat of the warm summer’s night. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye, maybe a hint of empathy on his face as he takes in your pouting lips. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, and you try your best not to look too upset as you twirl the smooth dart in your hand.

   “Well, keep going!” The worker practically screams at you as you almost jump out of your skin. As you look down at the dart and weigh your options, something happens that you didn’t expect to. Joel slides up behind you and puts one hand on your waist as he angles you perpendicular to the board of balloons while his hand wraps around yours with the dart between your fingers. 

   You gasp as he guides your arm. “Let me help ya, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips graze the shell of your ear, making a bead of sweat stick to the side of your forehead as nerves course through your veins.

   “You wanna keep your eyes right on the center of the balloon. Imagine it has a big target in the middle that you want to reach. You wanna close one eye, aim right for the center, and throw hard.” The words whisk through you at an impossibly fast rate as his hot breath breathes down your neck. You think you might pass out at how hot your skin feels with him this close, with him touching you. It’s like he’s branding you as his own. 

   “Like this?” you whisper out hoarsely as you bring your arm up as his hand never leaves yours.

   “Yeah, there ya go. Right for the middle of the yellow one. Go on now,” he encourages as he takes you through the motions, his gravelly voice breathing down the side of your neck as his broad body hovers over yours.

   You hold your breath and throw the dart, keeping one eye closed as you focus solely on the blown up balloon and not on the gorgeous man that’s clinging to your skin. The dart soars through the air and lands right in the center of the yellow balloon as you hear a loud pop and see scattered shreds fall to the ground.

   “Yes! I got it,” you say excitedly as Joel chuckles lightly and nods his head. 

   “Attagirl.”

   The word makes you gulp as you feel your skin flush from the praise. He was basically calling you a good girl, and that was the hottest thing a man has ever said to you. Attagirl. Something so sexy about the way he said it to you in a deep, Southern drawl. Attagirl. 

   He steps back and lets you take your turn for your last two darts. You go over every step he told you to do and follow what he instructed you to do. You did exactly that and popped two more balloons as they fell broken to the floor.

   “Nice shot,” he winks as he takes your place and steps up to the white line. 

   “Alright, cowboy. Let’s see what you got,” you say playfully as you see his lips curl up into a huge grin. 

   It’s almost too easy for him. He takes down two at a time with only one dart, his aim impeccable as he takes down balloon after balloon. When his five darts are gone, he dusts off his hands on his dark jeans and smiles your way. “So, how’d I do?”

   “You’re too good, Joel. A master of balloons,” you tease as you playfully push at his solid chest. 

   “Master of balloons, not master of puppets?” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him.

   “Metallica fan I see,” you say with a raised brow as you cross your arms over your chest. 

   “Good guess.” 

   Before you walk away, the game worker tells Joel he can pick out any stuffed animal he wants. Joel looks over at you with a wandering gaze as he reaches out his hand and pulls you over to the edge of the stand. 

   “What do ya want?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the wall. There’s a variety of stuffed animals. Monkeys, teddy bears, all the way to jellyfish. Your eyes wander the wall until they land on a light blue dolphin. That’s the one.

   “That one.” You point to the dolphin, and the worker gets it down for you. 

   “Here you go,” the worker nods as you take the plush dolphin and smile down at it, “I’m sure your girl is happy now.”

   Joel looks down at the stuffed dolphin in your hand and smiles as his warm brown eyes meet yours. “Yeah, think she is.” You blush and walk down the row of busy games as Joel walks next to you with his hand hovering over the small of your back.

   “Thanks for that back there,” you murmur as you set your pace a little slower.

   “For what?” he asks as his hand presses deeper into the fabric of your dress. 

   “For showing me how to throw the darts probably and winning me this dolphin,” you say as you hold the plushie stuffed animal up and poke him playfully in the bicep with it. 

   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime,” he chuckles as he walks along the flurries of crowds.

   You walk along the outside of the crowd as you pass an area full of a variety of food trucks. “So. Was that your daughter yesterday with you in line?” 

   “Oh, yeah. That was Sarah. My little girl. Well, not so little anymore. She’ll be eighteen next year, and she’s about to start her senior year of high school, but she’ll always be my little girl.”

   You watch the gleam in his chocolate eyes as you take in his expression. A little sadness but also so very proud. He looks like he loves her a lot, and that makes your heart beat for him even more. “Is that your only one?”

   “My only kid?” he asks as he turns his head toward you, “yeah, she’s my only one.”

   You ask the next question carefully, walking on thin ice. You didn’t see a ring, so you assume he isn’t taken. “And there’s no Mrs. Miller in the picture?”

   He scratches the bottom of his scruff as he stretches his neck, assessing the question before he answers. “No. It’s jus’ me, darlin’. No one else in the picture.”

   Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to face him, your head cocking to the side as you look him up and down carefully. “You mean to tell me that a man like you is single?”

   He just shrugs his shoulders and blatantly answers. “What’s so hard to understand ‘bout that?”

   You put one hand on each hip and roll your eyes sarcastically. “I mean, hello? You’re ridiculously hot and nice and I don’t know, sweet?”

   Joel chuckles and raises one eyebrow up. “Got me blushin’ again, darlin’,” he responds as he rakes a hand slowly down his jawline while his cheeks turn a deep red.

   You laugh and admire how absolutely beautiful the man looks when he’s full of embarrassment. He’s so freaking cute that you could just squish him. Soft, the man is so soft. You might just fall head over heels for him.

   “And that’s you, sweetheart. Sweet, flirty, adorable, absolutely drop dead gorgeous,” he gushes as he looks at you with glittering honey eyes. Now it’s you that’s the one blushing. “Can’t believe you’re at the fair with me. Of all the men you could be with, you went with me. What ever made you do that?” he asks unbelievably as he shakes his head. 

   “Because I saw more than a handsome face in that crowd when I saw you standing in line. I saw a man I wanted to get to know, wondered if you felt the same way. You looked like magic, and I wanted to taste it,” you smirk as his cheeks turn bright red again. 

   “Christ,” he chuckles as he grabs your arm and pulls you through the blinding crowd, “c’mon you sweet talker. Magic, huh? You’re the one that looks like magic.” You just giggle silently as you let him take you on the ride of your life. 

   The sun slowly dips beneath the clouds as the last clashes of mixed shades of purple and orange colors turn to darkness. The fair lights up every which way as glowing lights from the amusement rides and food trucks light the way on the warm pavement. You pass a stand with blowing bubbles and light up toys and look over to see Joel eyeing you, a curious glint in his chocolate eyes as he assesses you closely. 

   Before you wait to see what he’s about to ask you, you chime in first. “So, cowboy, what do you do for work?” 

   You hear him chuckle and mutter something about cowboy under his breath as he runs calloused fingers smoothly through his slicked back curls. “I’m a contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy, run a business together.”

   You lift an eyebrow and smirk his way. “A contractor, huh?”

   Joel just chuckles and nods his head. “S’right, sweetheart. We keep pretty busy, that’s for sure.”

   You eye his green flannel, dark denim jeans, and leather boots and nod. Of course he was a contractor. He definitely looked the part. “So you’re strong and handsome? And you know how to build things? My, my, Mr. Miller. You’re quite the package, aren’t you?” You tease as you push him playfully in the arm and flash him a ridiculously huge grin that you can barely keep to yourself. 

   “A package, huh? Can’t say that anyone’s ever called me quite a package before,” he responds as his hand grazes yours carefully. You taste the flames as they lick against your skin, you want to dance in them as they burn you alive. 

   “Well, I called you one so there’s that if that means anything.” You shrug your shoulders absentmindedly and look back ahead as you hear Joel laugh under his breath. 

   “Mmm definitely means somethin’, darlin’.” You look back to see he’s giving you this crooked smile, and his chocolate eyes are scorching into yours as you see just how soft he is. He’s like a little puppy dog with those big eyes of his, and you just want to take him home and make him yours forever. 

   You almost reach out to lace your arm in his until he asks you a question. “What about you, sweetheart? What do you do?”

   You smile warmly up at him and answer. “I’m actually studying to get my master’s in art at the University of Texas. And I work at this little art shop off Hollow’s Drive. It’s called Autumn’s Art Gallery.”

   You watch the way he shifts his honey eyes over to you as he gives you a once over. “An artist, you say? Impressive. You draw or paint?”

   “Both, actually. I find myself with a charcoal pencil in my hand more than a paint brush. But I love them both equally,” you shrug as your shoes scuff against the cement. 

   “You draw people?” he asks thoughtfully as you meet his simmering gaze. 

   “All the time. Why?”

   He laughs as you see the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?” 

   “Joel Miller throwing Titanic quotes at me?” you laugh as you shake your head at him in disbelief. 

   “Couldn’t resist that joke, darlin’. Was the perfect opportunity,” he chuckles as you roll your eyes at him. 

   “Sure, just let me go conjure up a butterfly robe and an old parlor couch while I find you a red wig.”

   You watch him crinkle his eyes up as he holds his stomach and chuckles loudly as he throws his head back. You join in on his laughter and almost burst into tears from how hard the two of you are laughing. When he finally catches a breath after a few moments, he wipes his eyes and places a firm hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. You’ve got a gift,” he smiles as you see nothing but warm brown eyes swarm your vision. 

   “Glad I could make you laugh,” you giggle.

   “So, art. What got ya interested in art?” he asks with a cocked up brow as he presses his palm into the middle of your shoulder blades. His hand burns like fire, but you love it. 

   “Well, I’ve always had a love for painting. I told my mom when I was in kindergarten that I was going to grow up to be an artist and look at me now! I made it,” you beam as the glow of the Ferris wheel lights your way forward. 

   “I’d love to see your work sometime,” Joel responds as his fingers slide down to right above your hips, right at that dangerous level of being too close but not close enough. 

   “Really?” you ask surprised as you see him nod his head. 

   “Really.”

   You bite your lower lip and cross your arms as you turn to look at him, your eyes sliding along his beautiful face. “Would you… do you think you’d let me draw you sometime?” you ask shyly as you play with the skirt of your green dress, your cheeks flushing pink as you flutter your eyelashes at him. 

   He laughs out loud as his eyes widen. “Sweetheart, what would you wanna draw me for? Ain’t nothin’ worth drawin’,” he says amused as he adjusts the sleeve of his flannel shirt. 

   You shrug your shoulders and sway your hips as you respond. “I dunno. I think you’ve got such a handsome face. It’d be worth it to me.”

   His lips part open as his eyes stare intimately down into yours as he takes in what you just told him. He looks conflicted, surprised even that you’d say that. But his eyes soften and a crooked smile splays across his mouth, and you think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

   “Darlin’, if you’re gonna sweet talk me like that then ‘course you can draw me. Jus’ don’t let me look bad.”

   “I could never make you look bad, Joel.” He smiles and cups his hand underneath your chin and grazes it affectionately before he takes your hand and pulls you along the street. 

   He slowly slips his hand into yours as he entwines his fingers around yours, the callouses grazing along your skin as you feel warmth cover your insides as he takes a hold of you. It feels so right, makes you a little dizzy if you’re being honest. How can you like a man so much that you only just met? You don’t know what it is, but he feels like complete magic. The perfect man that’ll indulge all your fantasies. 

   He pulls you along the busy crowd, hand in hand as he looks back every few seconds and flashes you with the most dreamy smile you’ve ever seen, ending with a flirty wink that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. He grasps your fingers tighter as he slides his calloused thumb gently over the top of your hand. Right before he passes the Ferris wheel that’s spinning slowly in the mix of all the different fair rides, Joel stops just a few feet from the entrance and looks back at you, one eyebrow cocking up as he takes in your curious expression. 

   “What?” you ask with a small laugh as you take in his coffee colored eyes that narrow just a tad, the look of a man with an agenda up his sleeve. 

   “Wanna go for a ride?” he asks as he nods his head toward the lit up Ferris wheel, his eyes never leaving yours. 

   You flick your eyes carefully over the spinning ride and then look back at him as you turn your hips closer to him. “A ride?” you ask flirtatiously as you smirk up at him, “Joel Miller wants to take me for a ride?”

   His eyes slightly darken, his nail beds scratching along your skin as he leans in closer so you can hear that deep Southern drawl that clings to your insides. “Promise to take it slow,” he whispers menacingly. You gulp at his double meaning, his wicked smirk clawing at your insides as you feel the sweat bead down your skin. 

   Promise to take it slow. The words are harmless yet heated. He means the ride will be slow, but there’s also that other meaning. The one where it involves his lap, his cock, his slow motions as you gently slide up and down on his slick covered cock. That’s what those words really mean to you, and fuck do you want that. Badly.

   “Okay,” you breathe out slowly as he smiles and leads you to the small ticket booth ahead. He pulls out his leather wallet and hands the attendant three dollars in exchange for two small pink tickets. Joel leads you to the front of the line and hands the tickets off as he lets you climb into one of the carts first. You sit down on the white plastic seat and get situated, fanning your green skirt across your thighs as Joel takes his place across from you. 

   After a few seconds, the ride starts up and you slowly ascend into the summer night’s air. The fair looks so different up in the sky, glowing lights encased in a blur as you see different shades of pinks, blues, reds, and yellows paint the fair. Soft bubbles float in the background, and bright stars twinkle in the night sky. It’s all so very whimsical. 

   “Wow. It’s really beautiful up here,” you say in awe as you take in all the colorful scenery of the fair. 

   “Yeah, it sure is,” Joel says quietly across from you. When you turn to look at him, he’s not looking at the loud crowds or the different colored bumper cars across the way. No. He’s looking at you. 

   Oh. 

   Your knees brush against his jeans, and his hand grazes gently against your inner thigh, his rough fingertips resting just behind your kneecap as his thumb brushes back and forth gently. Slow, meticulous, heated. His eyes bore into yours, chocolate irises that simmer warmly into yours. He just sits there staring, lips halfway parted as he’s mesmerized in place, his eyes only on you. 

   Another brush of his fingertips and suddenly the air is too hot, too much as you fight every bone in your body to jump right off your seat and straddle his lap. His lips look so inviting, plush, big. Lips that were made just for you to kiss. His eyes trail down to your lips, dark eyes smoldering as he gulps and takes another breath. 

   The tension is heavy, weighing down on your insides that scream for you to move. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. You bet he’s a great kisser, bet he has an experienced tongue, bet he can swallow you down and devour you whole when he licks into your mouth. Warm, inviting, blissful. 

   Suddenly your body is leaning forward, slowly reaching out as your right hand comes down on his denim clad knee. He does the same, cautiously bending forward, eyes locked with yours as he reaches, reaches, reaches until his calloused fingers are brushing against your jawline, eyes swallowing you whole as he leans forward more, almost to your lips, almost…

   The Ferris wheel abruptly starts again and jolts both of you back in your seats, interrupting the almost kiss that could’ve happened. You internally grunt inside. Why the fuck did that have to happen? You just sigh as Joel reaches behind his head to scratch his neck, eyebrows furrowed as he blows out a breath and then looks back up at you with an amused expression on his face. Then the two of you burst out laughing, a harmonious melody that reaches through the dim night sky and catches on the bright lights of the fair. You keep laughing until both of you are gasping for breath, a silly moment that turned into a mutual joke. 

   “So much for a slow ride,” Joel chuckles as he runs a hand through his thick locks of curls, sighing again as you see the crow’s feet wrinkling at the edges of his golden eyes. And my oh my does he look pretty. 

   “So much for that,” you laugh and stare off into the blurring crowd on the ground. 

   After a couple more spins on the Ferris wheel, the ride comes to a halt at the bottom and Joel takes your hand and helps you out of the little cart. “You hungry?” he asks as he keeps your hand locked tightly in his. 

   “Mmm what’d you have in mind? Something sweet, maybe?” you smile with one eyebrow raised in question. 

   Joel shakes his head and laughs, warm and deep. “Figured you’d have a sweet tooth.”

   “Oh? Why’s that?”

   “‘Cause you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, eyes lit up like Christmas lights as you stare back at him in awe. He called you sweet. He thinks you’re sweet. You don’t say anything, you just smile and follow him down the row of lit up food trucks that are swarmed with lines. You think you’d follow him anywhere. As long as he’d keep you locked in his arms.

   He pulls you into a short line of one of the funnel cake stands as you look at the decorative funnel cakes on display. That’s not all there is. There’s also blue and pink bags of cotton candy, Caramel apples, cinnamon rolls, and pink lemonade. 

   “You want a funnel cake?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the powdered sugar treats. 

   “Mhm,” you nod as his hand squeezes gently around yours. 

   “You want one of those fancy ones or just a plain one?”

   “Just a plain one is good with me.”

   “Anythin’ else?” he asks as he looks over his shoulder and down at you. Your eyes keep going back to the pink colored cotton candy, your mouth watering as you can almost taste the fluffy goodness melt in your mouth. He seems to notice as he speaks again. “I see you keep lookin’ at that cotton candy. Wanna get some?”

   “Please,” you respond eagerly as you almost bounce at the mention of cotton candy. Joel chuckles to himself when he sees your eyes light up. He thinks you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

   When it’s your turn at the window, Joel orders the funnel cake and cotton candy and hands the worker some cash as she takes it from him. “Give us a few minutes with the funnel cake. We’ll have it out in about five minutes,” the worker says as she hands Joel a large bag of fluffy cotton candy. 

   “Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls as he hands you the clear bag of cotton candy and grazes his fingers lightly over yours. 

   “Thanks, Joel.” You open the twisted bag carefully and tear off a piece of pink cotton candy with your thumb and index finger. When you pop a fluffy piece into your mouth, you swallow the cherry flavor and groan from the delicious cotton candy as you lick your glossy lips clean. “So good,” you sigh as you take another bite and lick your thumb clean of the sticky mess. 

   “Yeah? Let me have a bite then.” He reaches for the open bag of cotton candy, but you snatch it from him before he can grab a piece and hold it high in the air. 

   “Only if you can catch me,” you tease as you smirk over at him, snickering under your breath as his eyebrows knit together. 

   “Now, sweetheart. Jus’ what do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he asks as he extends his fingers and stares your way. 

   “Having some fun,” you giggle as he reaches once more for the bag, but you take another step back. 

   “You’re walking on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he murmurs as his eyes darken slightly, almost like he wants to chase you. 

   “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it then? You gonna just stand there or are you gonna come get me?” you taunt as you rustle the bag and toss it back and forth in your hands. 

   “Oh, I’m gonna come get you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he smirks as he takes one step forward. 

   You lick your bottom lip and place one hand on your hip as you taunt him. “Come get me then, cowboy.”

   He twitches his jaw and narrows his eyes playfully as a smug smirk covers his plush lips. Before you know it, he’s lunging at you as you squeak and try to run from him. You don’t make it far until you feel his thick arms wrap around your waist, and then he’s picking you up as you squeal while he spins you around. 

   “C’mere you little tease,” he chuckles as he places you back on the ground and leans forward, biting off a piece of cotton candy as almond eyes stare straight into yours. “Delicious,” he smiles as he grabs another handful and pops it into his mouth, smirking down at you as you stare wide-eyed at him. 

   “What am I gonna do with you?” he chuckles as he shakes his head slowly at you. 

   “I dunno,” you smile bashfully and sway your hips as your green summer dress blows in the gentle breeze of the night. “Guess you could keep me,” you say shyly, fluttering your eyelashes at him as you look carefully at his calm features. 

   “Keep you, huh?” he asks with a crooked smile splayed on his face. 

   “Mhm,” you hum shyly. 

   “Maybe I will, darlin’. Maybe I will.” He reaches out and cups your chin as he tilts it up so he can have a better look into your shimmering eyes. Just when you think he might kiss you, they call your order from the side window of the food truck. Joel grabs the paper plate of the powdered dessert and grabs up two forks and napkins as he leads you over to an empty picnic style table. You take a seat on the old, rickety seat, and Joel slides in next to you, the side of his thigh pressed firmly against your bare leg. And it burns, hot. 

   As the two of you pick at the savory funnel cake, you and Joel bond over interests and likes. You learn his favorite color is blue, the same as yours, he plays guitar, he likes fishing, camping, building and making things, but mostly he loves spending precious time with his daughter, Sarah. And you love that, love that he’s a good father. He’s not just a good father, he’s the perfect father. The way he talks about her is, well, wonderful. You could sit and listen to him talk all night long if you could. And you also wonder who the hell would be so stupid as to leave him? He’s literally perfect. Sweet, funny, handsome, a menace. But that just leaves more for you. 

   “How’s the funnel cake, darlin’? Sweet enough?” Joel laughs as he takes another bite out of the fried goodness. 

   “Definitely sweet enough, it’s just right.” You swallow another mouthful of powdered sugar and just when you’re about to reach for another forkful, Joel nods to the side of your face. 

   “You got a little somethin’ on your face, sweetheart.”

   Grabbing up a clean napkin, you dab at your face embarrassed and find there’s nothing there. “Where? I don’t feel anything.”

   “Oh, you missed. Right here.” He swipes his finger in a pile of powdered sugar and wipes it clear across the side of your face as you feel powdered sugar stick to your shiny skin.

   Your eyes grow wide as you push him playfully against his strong chest. “Joel!”

   He erupts into a fit of laughter as he throws back his head and holds a firm hand across his chest. “Sorry, darlin’. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles as he plants his thick fingers against the denim of his broad thighs. 

   You lean forward, challenging him and smirk. “Okay then. If you think it’s so funny then why don’t you clean up the mess you made. Hmm?” 

   He eyes you carefully, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he studies you, flicking his eyes between your mouth and your playfully narrowed eyes. He runs a hand nervously down the side of his jaw, right through the greying scruff as he waits and waits and waits. Then he’s moving, leaning forward, brushing his calloused fingers against the edge of your thigh until his tongue is flat against the corner of your mouth. 

   His tongue is warm, long, wet as he laps up the powdered sugar. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you, a meer tinge of bravery slipping through your nerves. After he’s done lapping up the mess he made, just as he’s starting to pull back, you feel that spark of bravery shoot through you again at the speed of lightning, so you move, fast. Before he can turn his face away, you lean forward and plant your lips firmly over his, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as warmth runs like honey down your insides. 

   You break the kiss fast, your cheeks burning red as you feel sort of dizzy from the quick actions. Just when you almost apologize for diving in, Joel cups your chin and brings you back in. His lips are on you in a second. Hot, burning, electric, he seems to be everywhere. Crowding your space, slipping through your lips, burning you from the inside out. The kiss deepens as he cradles the side of your face, fingers brushing through thick locks of your wind blown hair. You seem to get lost in time as you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer to your body, until he’s flush against your chest.  

   You part your lips and allow his tongue to enter your vicinity, feeling it collide with your own as it dances around yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He tastes like powdered sugar, coffee, warm summer nights as his tongue glides against yours. It’s like all the busy movements and loud noises in the fair stop, it’s only you and Joel, just two people getting lost in a first kiss. It’s almost like you’re in a movie, camera slowly spinning around the two of you as you get tangled up together in a slow, romantic kiss. And it’s like fireworks go off in the sky, colorful swirls painting the way each time your lips move in sync. It’s unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had before. It’s slow, easy, just right, perfect. And you know then you’re a goner. You’ve fallen for the man with dreamy brown eyes and a Southern drawl you could hear for hours on end. You truly had it bad for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet. 

   After a couple of minutes go by, Joel pushes himself back, but keeps one hand lingering on your jaw, his thumb trailing gently against your flushed cheek. “I knew it,” he smiles, a warm, honey-like tone slipping off his tongue as he looks at you with warm, brown eyes. 

   “Knew what?” you whisper out, still catching your breath from that amazing first kiss. 

   “I knew you were sweeter than pie,” he smiles as you catch a gleam in those pretty honey colored eyes. 

   “Sweeter than pie?” 

   “Darlin’, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

   Your lips part open, a stupid grin spreading across your glossy mouth as you stare incredulously at the sweetest man that took your breath away. 

   You spend the next couple hours locked hand in hand, exploring every square inch of the fair, sharing cherry lemonade with each other, bonding over movies and shared interests, just spending the night getting to know one another. It was the best date of your life, the best night. You never would have imagined it to be quite like this, but here you were, completely entranced with some handsome man you fell for on the carousel. 

   The drive back home is quiet as the breeze from the open window blows softly through your hair. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, the way he keeps smiling and staring every few seconds just watching you enjoy the long summer’s night. The radio hums low in your ear, but all you can hear is your own breath, the shift of Joel in the driver’s seat, the soft tapping noise of his thumb on the leather steering wheel, and the low rumble of the truck’s engine. You love summer nights, love getting lost in the night, but most of all you love being in this truck, in this seat, next to Joel. 

   You feel Joel’s calloused fingers slowly graze against the outside of your thigh, so you shift in your seat and look over at him all dreamily, getting lost in those honey flecked eyes you find so mesmerizing. He’s got you twisted around the black military watch that sits clasped against his wrist, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go. 

   After a few more minutes of driving on the dark, dimly lit road back to your apartment, he’s pulling up to your front door. The one with overflowing white lilies in pots and the crystal wind chime you can’t seem to let go of. He puts the truck in park and looks over at you, an expression of gentleness as he relaxes his brows and pulls some out of place locks behind your ear. 

   “I had a great time with you tonight, darlin’.” You watch the crooked smile appear on the side of his mouth, his eyes seeming to twinkle like the bright stars in the night sky. 

   “I did, too, Joel. Thank you, for the perfect date.”

   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”

   You sit there a moment, hovering in the silence as you chew on your bottom lip and taste the hint of cherry lip gloss. You twist your fingers in your lap, thighs pressing together as you look up at him through your long eyelashes. He’s just sitting there, his jaw clenched as he stares at you perplexed with the engine humming faintly in the background. 

   Just as you think of slowly making your way out the passenger door, Joel clears his throat and dwindles his hand on the steering wheel. “Would you… would you maybe wanna go on another date with me next Friday? Sarah’s gonna be outta town for volleyball camp, and I have the weekend free. Maybe you’d wanna come over for dinner or watch a movie or…”

   You interrupt his offer as you quickly nod your head yes. “I’d really like that.”

   “Is that a yes then?” he asks, brown eyes full of hope as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, awaiting your final answer. 

   “That’s definitely a yes, cowboy,” you smile as he smirks back at you in response. 

   “Friday it is then,” he confirms as his eyes never wander from yours. 

   “Friday it is.” You let your hand meander on the side of the door handle and tug gently as you start to slide over in the seat. “Well, goodnight. Thank you again for the perfect evening.”

   Just as you about make it out of the door, Joel shoots his hand out and grabs your wrist tightly, his voice straining with an ounce of restraint as he holds you there, locked in his embrace. “Wait.” 

   You slowly turn, eyes locking with his as they seem to widen, his plush lips parted open as he stares transfixed, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he tries to hold back. He really needs to, doesn’t need to rush anything, but any self restraint comes crashing down when your eyes trail down to his warm lips. 

   “C’mere.” A gasp falls out of your mouth as he pulls you into his lap, your thighs straddling his as he pulls you flush to his broad chest. “Wanna kiss you one more time, sweetheart.”

   With no hesitation, he tugs your head down to his and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, burning as you melt your lips against his and get lost in the radiant glow of the moment. You part your lips, and he slots his tongue inside your mouth, desperately licking at the cotton candy flavor as he collides with your tongue. He twists around, pulling you closer to his body as you feel the hard erection that bulges at his zipper line. 

   You deepen the kiss, tasting the powdered sugar and cherry lemonade against your lips, letting your body grind down on him as you hear him moan through your glossy lips. You feel his hands slowly slide your dress up, feel his meaty palms dig into your thighs as you feel slick start to coat your lace.

   You rake your fingers through his messy curls, start to grind against the thickness of his cock through his tight denim jeans as you picture how ruined he must be underneath that zipper. You moan into his mouth the second one of his hands slides up higher, teasing the inside of your thigh as you desperately want to ride him right here, right now. You want to taste him, want to feel him slide in and out of your dripping core, want him to make you come until you see nothing but him in your vision. 

   His swollen lips drop to the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as he starts to suck slowly, finding just the right spot that makes you moan and pant against the shell of his ear as your face rubs against his coarse salt-and-pepper scruff. Your fingers cling to his dark green flannel, curling around the edges as you lick the side of his ear, just as he makes you moan again from his teasing tongue low on your collarbone. 

   Your other hand grips the back of his sweaty hair, holding on for dear life as you feel you can orgasm right here at any moment. He hasn’t even touched you where you need him most, and he already has you unraveling from the seams. Just when he’s about to slide his hand under your soaked panties, his phone rings loudly, blaring as you almost jump out from beneath your sticky skin.

   You hear Joel swear under his breath as he digs his phone out from deep within the pocket of his jeans. When he retrieves it, he looks at the lit up screen and sighs. “It’s Sarah, I gotta answer this,” he murmurs as you sit still and let him take the call. “Hello?”

   You watch him talk, eyes blown out as his breathing is still shallow, beads of sweat staining his forehead as his curls stick to the edges of his face. His eyes are on yours, unmoving, even when he’s talking to his daughter on the phone. 

   “You alright? You call Tommy first?” he asks as his free hand stills on your exposed thigh, his thumb gently circling your burning skin as his chocolate eyes stare back into yours, that same heated gaze locked on you. You hear a small voice on the end of the line, but it’s just quiet enough to where you can’t make out what she says. 

   “Ahh, shit. Alright, jus’ hang tight. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Jus’ wait there with Ellie and tell her not to touch anything. See ya in a few.” He clicks end on the phone and shoves it back into his pocket, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tight for just a few seconds. 

   “Everything okay?” you ask quietly, still out of breath from the heated kiss. 

   “Yeah, Sarah jus’ got a flat tire near the house. Tommy’s daughter, Ellie, is tryin’ to fix it, and I just know she’s gonna make a mess and hurt herself if I don’t get there quick. Damn kid likes to cause trouble,” he chuckles as he sighs again and pulls you close, resting his forehead on your own as he breathes out slowly. 

   He pushes some damp locks behind your ear, and you sit there glued to his flannel, your nose gently brushing against his. He shifts in his seat and sighs before he speaks. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to take it so far. If I didn’t get that call, I might’ve not been able to stop myself. You’re just so… so… beautiful and hard to resist and fuck. We don’t have to take it fast, we can go slow, as slow as you want, darlin’. I jus’ like you a lot and wanna keep you around and…”

   You cut him off as you press your thumb against his bottom lip and gently hush him. “Joel, it’s okay,” you giggle out as you look straight into flecks of warm honey eyes. “What if I don’t want to take it slow?”

   His eyes widen, a speck of sweat sliding down his forehead as he eyes you carefully, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you closely. “Are you sure?”

   You nod in response. “I’m sure, Joel. I want this, want you. I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”

   A small smile creeps up against his lips, and then all you can see is warmth in his face, his cheeks tinged red as he blushes. “Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want. What do you say, Friday we pick this up where we left off?”

   “Friday it is, cowboy.”

   Another chuckle reverberates off his lips as he brings you down once more against him and crashes his lips into yours. This time it’s just one kiss, but it’s as heated and intense as the others, but there’s also something else in the kiss. Need, desire, want. He wants you, just as bad as you want him. 

   When he breaks the kiss, he helps you off his lap and ghosts his fingers over the back of your hand as you make your way out of the truck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

   Before you close the door, you smile warmly at him and wave flirtatiously. “Night, cowboy. You sure do know how to light a girl up inside.” Before he can say anything back as his cheeks burn bright crimson, you slam the door closed and saunter up to your small porch. You feel his eyes on you, watching until you make it in safely, then he’s driving off into the thick of the night. 

   When you close the door, you slide down the back of the wood and end up on the floor in a heap, giggling to yourself as you rest your head against the back of the door and hug the stuffed dolphin to your chest. You can’t stop kicking your feet, can’t stop the feeling of warmth and nerves pulling at your insides. You have it so bad for Joel Miller. You can’t wait to see him again. Your new favorite cowboy. 

Tags: @laurrrra @sawymredfox @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vivian-pascal

@littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @lotusbxtch @jasminedragoon

@msjarvis @survivingandenduring @littlepedrito @burntheedges @pedroisghosties @pedrostories

@disassociation-daydreams @littlepadika @notjustjavierpena-fics @giowritess

@untamedheart81 @akah565 @keylimebeag @angelbbyswrld @sunbellylou @auteurdelabre

@axshadows @joelmillerisapunk @pedroswife69

[cl3stevu]

Blip…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Plot: college classmates

Summary: Complicated relationship, heartbreak, and regret, also height difference.

Warnings: sweet beginning, Smut, aftercare, angst like a lot of it.. .

a/n: No use of y/n :), also I do like to think miggy is 6’9 😤 and reader is either average woman height or shorter that’s all on you either way he’s still giant. And you KNOW this man’s got a big one 🙂‍↕️

••••••••••••••••••••••

You remembered the first time you saw him.. interacted with him.. looked into his eyes, since that moment you searched for him everywhere, from class to just catch a glimpse of his curly brown hair.. to the coffee shop she found out he frequented. To the library she saw him studying at. And the moment you found out his name.. Miguel O’Hara.

Though at first it was just occasional greetings to each other or small interactions, you convinced yourself it was just a crush.. something that would go away, that was until your heart would sting when you saw him being close to other women.

Talking to them.. smiling at them, laughing with them she just wanted to be acknowledged, it hurt even if it shouldn’t have.

Until at some monthly frat party, you got dolled up to go with her friends.. the party was boring most of the time, until he spoke more to you..

his crimson eyes stared down at you a softness to them, his voice smooth and deep.. “Hey there hermosa..” that was the first time he looked at you the way you wanted.

Over the next few weeks you had gotten closer and closer, spending time studying together or sitting together in class they even went to the movies together, you felt happy about it you didn’t exactly know if it was romantic or not but he used a lot of nicknames for you.

Presently now, you and him had just gotten back to the campus from a party and he insisted he take her home, you accepted and they walked back to your unoccupied dorm since her dorm mate was staying at her boyfriends.

They talked about the party and whatever little dramas happened because of course some happened, you smiled and laughed with him, you had got to the front door of your dorm and you turned to thank him. “Well thank you for taking me back, I hope you get back safely.” You were cut off by Miguel speaking “How about I come in hermosa?, could watch a movie order a pizza..” his voice smooth while smiling down at her.

“Oh.. okay that’d be okay..” you got flustered but tried not to show it.. you went into your dorm room you showed him around, and you set up your tv and bed to be comfortable and changed into a soft matching pj set.

Miguel had ordered a pizza since you two were hungry and wanted to get a little more sober, they comfortably watched a movie together and ate..

After the first movie they decided to watch a romcom.. she was getting

comfortable and about halfway into the movie you felt his large hand on your as he looked over at you. “Eres bonita.” he said softly to X, you smiled softly with flushed cheeks. “You know hermosa.. I hope you don’t mind if stay longer then expected right?.”

“Well.. depends for what.” You said softly turning to face him better, Miguel smirked softly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear he then leaned in and kissed her cheek, his hands trailing up your body resting on your back pulling you closer to him, his lips went down on your jaw and softly kissing the front of your neck.

He pulled you onto his lap, his hands massaging the plush flesh of your thighs up your hips and waist to hold you close to him, his lips softly found yours as he gave you soft pecks while one of his hands went up into your hair to softly hold you still.

The feeling of everything he was doing made you feel warm and happy, you reciprocated the touches in a shy manner, hands resting on his chest as you two kissed softly. You had been suppressing fantasies and daydreams of similar scenarios happening the past couple months.

He pulled away and kissed your neck sucking softly leaving small bruises behind, you let out a small whimper which made him smirk as he gripped your waist tighter, he looked up at you as his voice you loved so much spoke. “may i?.” He asked as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically, his hands snaked up and pulled your shirt off while smiling softly he leaned down to kiss and leave more bruises behind on your shoulders and middle of your chest.

you held onto his arm while his hand went behind you and unclasped your bra, he threw it off as his hands came and cupped them both, making you bite you lip.

He rolled the sensitive nipples between his fingers, you gasped and your cheeks turned red at the feeling, he smirked as he took his own shirt and pants off as he lifted you up to do so. He hooked his fingers in the band of your shirts and panties to pull them down.

“Tan bonita .. solo para mi.” Miguel softly said as he looked over you, he laid you down on the bed as he softly pulled apart your legs and smiled, as he reached down to his pants pocket and pulled out a condom.

He pushed his boxers down, you felt a little shocked at the size as he rolled the condom down his length, looked back at you and pushed your legs back up as he used his fingers and softly rubbed your clit. Then up and down your slick folds your sweet whimpers and soft moans leaving your lips you felt so turned on and needy for this man truly.

“Just gotta help you relax cariño.” He said as he slid one of his thick fingers pushed inside your slit, you let out a surprised mewl while he softly massaged your insides.

“Miguel..” You said softly as you moaned and he added another finger inside, he leaned down to kiss your cheek. “That’s it tan buena .” He murmured against your cheek while his fingers pumped in and out of your hole, he hummed as he looked down at you and pulled his fingers out.

He held his length in his hand as he softly pushed it against your folds, coating his dick in your slick and biting his lip he slid the length up and down as the tip nudged against your clit. “So wet cariño..” you gasped softly and moaned quietly as he continued.

“You ready?.. just tell me if you need me to stop okay.” Miguel said as he looked at you, you nodded signaling you were ready as he held your leg with one of his hands as the other slowly pushed the thick head of his dick inside you.

You let out a moan as he entered, the feeling was blissful the way he filled you was so good you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to live without it, he was gentle as he pushed inside and slowly pulled back out to thrust back in slowly, he thrusted slowly for a few minutes making love to you sweetly.

“More please-“ you muttered out absentmindedly needing more, he obliged and began thrusting a little faster and deeper as he held onto your soft thighs, he groaned and whimpered quietly as he looked down at you beneath him. Writhing from the pleasure he gave you.

Soon you felt that euphoric feeling in your stomach as you panted while he sped up some more, the sensation was amazing for both you gripped the sheets as you threw your head back moaning louder but trying to be quiet so others people in the dorm building wouldn’t hear you.. but it was getting to the point where you didn’t care who heard.

As long as you could keep feeling him inside you and holding you, you came and let out a whiny moan Miguel smiled as he cooed at how good you are for coating him, while he thrusted some more to reach his high. he shot his warm liquid into the condom he panted and leaned over to kiss you while he told you how good you did.

he pulled out as he threw the condom away, and walked off to your bathroom to come back with a warm cloth to clean you up, being gentle not to overstimulate you in the process, he put some new clothes on you and brushed your hair.

Tucking you into your bed and laying next to you, or as best as he could in the twin size down bed he caressed your hair as you fell asleep.. content with how the night went.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

That went on for a while, you and Miguel hadn’t really made anything official or put a name to it but you thought you had something special with him.. he took you out to eat to parties and well made love to you like no other, around 3 months passed like that it was sweet.

Today was another day you and him went out to the movies to watch a new movie, then went back to your dorm to well.. what else now you lay in bed together, just watching a random tv show then Miguel sat up. “Hey.. we need to talk.” He said as you sat up and nodded “okay what is it?.” You came up with small ideas on what it was, to what the plans were going to be for fall break to if he’d finally ask you the question.

He sighed and looked away slightly “look we can’t do this anymore.. I’m sorry, I just have been building a bond with this girl and I want to make it official with her.”

That made your heart drop, it felt like you’d been punched in your heart and made you feel.. angry?.

“wait.. then what was I?.” You asked in a confused hurt tone, his eyes widened slightly “well- I mean I just thought of us as something causal you know?, I mean isn’t it all it was?.”

How wrong he was, your brows furrowed into confusion. “I thought we had something special- is that all I was to you?, your causal fuck buddy?, I thought we were building something..”

“Look I’m sorry.. we can still be friends but I just want to focus on her.” He said as he got off your bed, you were hurt and anger and you had good reason to be, he led you on.

“Fine.. fine just go..” you said and he grabbed his things as he walked to your dorm door he looked back at you “I’m sorry again..”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next few weeks after that happened you weren’t feeling the same.. the nice routine you and him had wasn’t there anymore, you began ignoring any gatherings or activities to avoid him.. to avoid the man who you thought liked you.

There was a void every time you went to any of the places you frequently visited with him, you saw other couples and felt a hole in your heart, you thought he would’ve felt the same..

You couldn’t stand the view of him and his new girlfriend.. that was supposed to be you and him, why did he do that to you?.. why would he.

The time you two spent together was sweet and nice.. who knew he just thought of it as nothing serious.

The rest of college went like that, you did only have a year left so that was relieving you left and started your career in business, it was hard to forget Miguel but it was for the best.

Maybe it wasn’t the time for you, but it was the wrong moment, whoever knew the answer to that question.

You were in love with Miguel, but never even made it to his top five.

Merely a blip in his lifetime.

• • • • • • • •

A/n: sorry if it’s bad 🤧it’s my first one and I’m trying to get better at writing again, if anyone has tips please tell me🤞 ALSO tell me if yall want part 2 (that will probably be longer too)

[zablife]

Sweet Cherry Pie-Part 1

Johnny Davis x OC Cherry 

Summary: Newcomers have arrived to party with the Vandals, bringing a young mysterious girl with them. Johnny begins to wonder who she is and what ties her to the man she rides with.

Warnings: language, drinking, sexual innuendo, mention of drug abuse

A/N: No worries, there are no spoilers if you haven't seen the film! Should this become a series? I’m still trying to decide. For now I’m having fun writing it. Let me know if you enjoy reading by leaving a comment! 

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

"What's your name?" Johnny asked, attempting to keep his voice soft and neutral so as not to scare the lanky, young girl in the corner.

"What's it to you, pops?" the redhead asked with a roll of her eyes, returning her attention to choosing a song on the jukebox.

Johnny watched the neon pink change to orange and then red, illuminating her full cheeks as she hovered over it. Although she carried herself like a woman, her bratty attitude was that of a spoiled child and the thick layer of makeup she wore to conceal her features only confirmed it. 

"Look, I'm tryin' to be polite here, but we got rules in this club. We don't let kids hang around," he stated firmly.

"Then it's a good thing I'm eighteen," she noted, eyes never leaving the buttons where her manicured finger hovered, waiting to make a selection.

"Okay," Johnny said, sucking his teeth. "So you're legal, but I still don't know what to call ya."

The girl turned on her heel, an annoyed look in her eye as she looked up and down Johnny's imposing frame without any sign of fear. "You aren't gonna drop this are you?"

"Can't we be friends?" he asked diplomatically.

"I don't have friends," she professed.

She furrowed her brow as she glanced at the pool tables, studying one tall ex military type a moment too long. He caught her staring and stopped all movement, a darkness flashing in his otherwise vacant blue eyes. She shrunk suddenly and gave a weak smile, making Johnny feel uncomfortable with the sudden change in her demeanor. "Who's that?" he asked, wondering how they knew each other.

Like the shifting wind outside, she sighed in exasperation. ”Who is that? Who are you? What are you a fucking owl?" she asked, storming off to a table to be alone.

Johnny could take a lot, but not disrespect. Boots stomping across the sticky floor of the bar toward her, he stopped with a look of determination brewing. "I think it's time for you to leave before you get yourself into trouble. Anyway, I've had about enough of your mouth.”

"You've never even tried it," the red head countered with a sly wink, looking up at him smugly from her seat. 

Johnny sank into a chair beside her, utterly confounded by her behavior.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time to tell me your name…" he began, but that was as far as he got. No sooner had he started his question than the man from the pool table was upon them, a long shadow cast over Cherry’s back as the large man dwarfed her.

When Johnny searched his face, however, he noticed he couldn’t have been much older than the redhead herself, perhaps three or four years at most.

He seemed to be well acquainted with the girl, grasping her shoulder possessively. "You good here, Cherry?” he asked, eyeing Johnny suspiciously. 

She sighed, disappointed that her little game had come to an abrupt end. Then she looked up and gave a nod. "Yeah, I'm fine," she demurred, batting her lashes.

He stroked her cheek and Johnny swore he saw her flinch before eventually leaning into his touch. It made him even more curious about her and why she might be with the rough looking men who rode in yesterday.

As the man shuffled back to the pool table, Johnny hummed, "Cherry, huh? What kinda name is that?" 

"Only one I've got. Take it or leave it," she answered, the acidic bite returning to her tone instantly.

"Seems like I already asked you to leave," Johnny grumbled to himself, grabbing a beer and pushing away from the table in resignation.

A spine tingling screech like the cry of a feral animal stretched out into the air over the low rumble of the approaching motorcycle engines.

“What the heck is that?” Kathy asked, turning away from the picnic table to wipe her hands on her jeans. 

“I think it’s the new guys from the bar last week,” Gail explained, glancing over at her husband and Johnny who stood waiting to greet them. “Johnny invited ‘em to keep things civil.”

Kathy grimaced as the newcomers came closer, the noise intensifying to a rallying cry of whoops and whistles. The muscular man with the redhead at his back was the loudest by far, emitting a scream practically deafening her where she stood. 

Gail huddled close to Brucie, as did most of the wives who wondered why Johnny had brought more outsiders to their quiet little club. "Who's he?" she pointed.

“That one’s Banshee,” Brucie said with a jerk of his head.

“Yeah I see why,” Kathy exclaimed. “And I’m guessing the girl is the one they call Cherry?” she ventured.

“Cherry, right,” Brucie agreed, looking her up and down.

The wives all noticed how Cherry was hardly dressed for the autumn weather in her halter top and tiny leather mini skirt. It was drawing plenty of attention which was possibly her only ambition. 

“Didn’t anybody tell her the women here don’t go by stupid names? It’s only the fellas who buy into that stuff,” Kathy said shaking her head in disapproval. 

Gail just shrugged, “Who cares as long as she keeps these guys entertained and out of trouble, right?”

“Sure,” Kathy agreed, taking up a place at the table.

It wasn’t until the sun was setting a few hours later that she began to rethink her opinion of the sultry looking redhead who refused to join the other women in conversation, preferring her own company instead. Circling the bonfire with her bottle, Cherry kept her distance. Occasionally she would dance to the music with the others, raising her arms to the sky without a care, but mostly she seemed to be watching Banshee out of the corner of her eye.

When he beckoned to her, she went to him and perched on his lap like a cat. Running a hand down his broad chest, she nestled into him as he wrapped a muscular arm around her waist, an expectant look on her face.

Holding her there in a strong grip, he proclaimed to the group, “This is my sweet little Cherry pie.”

“Cherry pie, I like that,” Corky exclaimed with amusement.

“Believe me, you’d love a slice of this,” Banshee bragged loudly, digging his fingers into Cherry’s thigh when she tried to close her legs. She clutched his shirt front, but he kept speaking, looking down at her with a leer.

“I can vouch for it, popped her cherry myself,” he boasted, taking hold of her chin for a sloppy kiss.

Although she accepted the sliver of affection, her body remained rigid and alert, listening to a far off voice mumble in surprise, “That’s why you call her Cherry?”

Banshee tilted his head back and roared with laughter. “People are all the time askin’ her how she got her name, but it ain’t nothin’ special,” he said dismissively, tapping Cherry’s arm to pass him another beer.

As he wiped the lipstick from his mouth with the back of his hand, she seemed to freeze momentarily. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt front slowly and dropped to her lap, light fading from her eyes.

"I thought it was cause of her hair," Cal piped up with a grin.

"Carpet matches the drapes though, don't they, baby?" Banshee joked, running a hand up her back to tangle in her hair.

She jerked away when he began to tug at the ends roughly, his hand swatting her ass to get her moving. As she stumbled off his lap he added, "If you're lucky you might get a peek, this tiny skirt she's got on don't cover much." As the invitation hung in the air, a long haired biker with rotten teeth leaned forward to cock his head at her with decided interest.

Cherry quickly turned away to reach into the cooler, glad her face was shielded from the men assembled in the circle. She didn't realize she was biting down hard on the inside of her cheek until she tasted a metallic bitterness on her tongue.

Across the field a few men from the Vandals took notice of the revelry, Johnny squinting in the dim light to see who was making all the noise. As he studied Banshee’s movements, he overheard Brucie and Zipco talking to one of his gang.

“How long’s he been back?” Brucie asked.

“A year, give or take," the man answered, the flicker of his lighter illuminating his face in the darkness.

“I tried to enlist, you know. Bastards wouldn’t take me,” Zipco spat, crushing a cigarette under his boot with more force than he intended.

“Banshee would say you dodged a bullet, man,” he replied slowly, considering the joint he held between his fingers. 

Zipco narrowed his eyes, “And why’s that?”

There was slow inhale, then a few metered words as he considered his answer, “Fucks with your head." He tapped his temple lightly. "You seen the way he is?” It wasn't actually a question, but a thinly veiled warning to those around him. Keep your distance.

“No, I meant, he seems to manage just fine,” Brucie pointed out, tilting his head to watch Banshee talking animatedly to his companions. "Got a bike and a girl. What else you need?"

"Looks that way don't it?," the cryptic reply came with another click of his lighter. Brucie and Zipco stared at each other as they waited for him to turn his attention back to them.

He never really did, mumbling in a barely coherent register as though he were still trying to make sense of it himself. "Nights he don’t spend with Cherry, he’s holed up somewhere with china girl. And sometimes when he can’t get what he wants, he swaps 'em around, see?” The man lingered a second, staring into nothingness as smoke billowed from his mouth in a great cloud which obscured his face.

The look of trepidation in Zipco’s eyes was lost to the haze as he muttered, “No, I…” 

Banshee whooped from across the field and the man went stumbling forth, ending the conversation with a halt.

Johnny couldn’t help but notice Cherry was no longer with him. He turned his head in time to see her disappear over the hill with the long haired biker from California, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Tag list:

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@solomons-finest-rum

@murderousginger

[lixiemissexotic]

𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝒓𝒍 💕#!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝗼𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬⤷ you passed your exam, and your boyfriend armin wants to shows you just how proud of you he is.

𝐧𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬⤷ guess who just passed their examss, i did bitchh 🤭 shout out to my boyfriend for inspiring this lmfao

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠⤷ smut, mild degrading-he calls you a slut and whore, nicknames- mama, princess, pretty girl, he’s a little mean not really.

“and the highest in the class is miss.l/n, remarkable work young lady”

mini fireworks were going off in your brain right now, armin was the fuckingg best.

as soon as your class had ended you were running all over campus looking for armin to thank him for helping you study, and tell him you topped your class.

you finally found him after all your searching, sitting on his bed in his dorm room and… fuck he’s hot.

his hair was wet, most likely he was fresh out of the shower. armin was hunched on his bed, with a towel around his neck only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a gold necklaces.

he stood up revealing more of his abs and vline. pretty blue eyes stared at you before he spoke in that stupid charming voice of his

“you just gonna stand there all pretty or tell me what’s up” ?

shit he cough you staring.

“no, i just wanted to say thank you”. you pulled out your test results and smiled at him “look i topped my class”. you spoke with enthusiasm and a bright smile.

armin smiled at you, proud that you did well.

he kissed your forehead then whispered in your ear, “that’s my smart girl”. before landing a light kiss on your neck.

“damn she’s pretty and smart, i should really stop the small talk and put a kid in you hu” he laughed after his sentence and you just rolled your eyes at him.

“and a bit rude, but i can work with that”

you giggled before hooking your hands around his necklace pulling him into a kiss. his hand traveled under your top stroking your waist.

you pushed him onto his bed, sucking hickeys into the skin of his neck.

“ahh- fuckk” moans began leaving his parted lips.

he grabbed onto one of your hands and kissed your palm before slowly guiding your hand into his boxers, making you feel how hard his cock was.

“hmm f-fuck feel how hard you make me mama, feel what you do to me, my pretty whore”

your panties were soaked, you needed some sort of relief, you felt as tho you were burning up.

still palming at his cock you looked into his lust filled eyes, “i want you to fuck me, need you”

“…please”

“that’s my smart girl, now lay down for me wanna see your pretty face when i fuck you stupid”.

you loved this side of him, you already knew that this was gonna end with you crying out his name.

you quickly discarded of your clothing as he did the same.

he looked so pretty on top of you, his gold chain was dangling in your face as he slowly inserted his cock into your soaked pussy.

you always forgot how big he actually was.

“s-shit, it hurts a-arminn”

“shh, i know, i know, you’re a big girl i know you can take it”

finally he bottomed out. full, you felt full.

he started off with slow thrusts careful not to hurt you too much.

“f-fuck your pussy is so tight, ahh, you feel good princess”

“f-faster pleasee”

that was the green light armin was waiting for to fuck the shit out of you.

his thrusts became faster causing the both of you to moan out in pleasure. your pussy was so wet and it clenched around him making deep moans to leave his pretty pink lips.

your hands gripped onto his toned shoulders for dear life.

tears began to stream down your face as you moaned chants of his name.

he gripped onto your thighs bringing your legs to your upper half, he had you folded up in a mating press.

with ever thrust, sounds of your squelching pussy and his balls slapping against you were heard.

his lips found themselves leaving love bites all over your neck and chest, he sucked onto your flesh and breasts as tho he were a starved man.

you closed your eyes for a beaf second, you were being fucked so good. every time his cock fucked itself back into you it hit all the right spots, you were definitely gonna cum soon.

a light slap on your cheek caused you to open your eyes

“look at me when i’m fucking you, wanna see all those pretty faces you make”

“f-fuckkk baby, i feel so full, i think I’m gonna cum s-soon”

at this point his thrusts had just gotten faster, and harder. your legs started trembling. it feels good, so fucking good.

you couldn’t hold back anymore, your back arched as you came all over armins cock, crying out his name with teary eyes and a slutty little smile.

armin looked down at you through hazed eyes, and he was more than happy to see his girl looking so fucked out. you always looked prettiest like this, eyes rolled back, messy hair and make up, babbling his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

“don’t tell me i’ve already fucked you stupid, guess my smart girl is just a little slut now hu”

armin gripped your face, while purposely thrusting harder into you.

“fuck you’re gorgeous, gonna cum all over that preety face”.

he pulled out of your messy cunt and started stroking his cock over your face, you open your mouth waiting for his cum.

hot milky cum shot out of his cock spilling all over your face and mouth. the sight had armin feeling lightheaded.

“that’s my good little slut”.

© 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝗼 𝐥𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐠𝗼𝐝. 𝐂𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝗼𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝗼𝐫𝗺𝐬.

[bonbonly]

pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader ; tw: p in v, a bit of blood? a/n: i don't know what it is about carlos sainz in that football fit but oh my god it's all i ever think about, someone restrain me -> x carlos sainz was doing keep-me-ups, his brows furrowing as his feet bounced the ball carefully with precision. he and his friends were borrowing the field for the next few nights, wanting to keep themselves entertained. only problem was, the field belonged to some college that regularly had students coming in for various activities. tonight was no different, some students were in the corner of the field rehearsing for their cheer team, others were studying in a corner near the bleachers. he wasn't that old from some of the students, but he certainly felt out of place. only thing that kept him grounded at the moment was that he was surrounded by his buddies.

and then he scraped his knee, bleeding profusely as he clutched onto his right leg, glancing at his knee. it burned, and with the help of someone, he managed to stand up. it hurt to stand, strangely, since his knee was aching and he glanced around to see someone running over to him.

you had previously been trying to gain some experience with shadowing and all, and though you had a few years before medical school, the earlier you started, the better you thought it was for yourself. only problem was, you rarely ever knew what to do and so when you signed up to be part of the medical team on the field today, you were a bit hopeless. there wasn't a game, so you didn't have the guidance from the actual team. you were sort of here like a lifeguard, a lifeguard with 0 experience, and 0 idea on what to do. only thing that came to your mind was a first aid kit.

carlos draped his arm over you, watching you mutter non-stop about how the universe must be playing with you, how you had only a first aid kit to check on him, and that you prayed he didn't break any bones because you didn't know the procedures for that. he frowned, not following along at all.

"chica, it's a scraped knee," carlos scoffed, watching you nervously bite your lips. you shook your head, escorting him to the small building at the corner of the field where the medical team usually resided. you sat him down on a chair, searching frantically through the shelves for a first aid kit. "come on, come on, come on, you're a future doctor, you're supposed to know where the kit is," you whispered to yourself, hands digging into your hair. carlos bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, and he glanced out the window to check to see what his friends were doing.

"found it!" you exclaimed, giddily kneeling down to tend to his knee. he winced at the antibiotic wipe, but watched you try and stop the bleeding, "does that feel good?"

your question had carlos darting his tongue out to wet his lips, eyeing you in a darker way. the sight of seeing you on your knees, asking if he felt good. oh, he knew it was wrong deep down, but his mind was reeling with so many possibilities. he forced himself to scowl, shaking his head,

"no, no, chica, i don't feel good at all,"

"what?" you cried out, shaking your head, "wait, wait, tell me what to do to make you feel better then? i don't wanna hurt you further!"

carlos tried everything he could to stop himself from grinning like a mad man. his friends glanced down at their phones to check the time, wondering what was taking carlos so long for a scraped knee. what they didn't know was that inside the small room, you were on carlos's cock, your tits bouncing as you ground against him. his mouth nipped at the valley between your breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples before latching on and sucking diligently. you moaned out loud, head thrown back as you kept bouncing,

"d-does that make you f-feel better?" you glanced at him, watching as a cruel smirk drew on his lips,

"not yet, hermosa, i think you need to try harder," he tsked, watching you whine out loud as you began to bounce harder. his satisfaction mattered the most after all! carlos's knee ached just a little bit but he didn't mind, not when he had a girl completely naked riding him into oblivion. he wrapped one his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so he could bury his face into your tits and his free hand went down to where his cock impaled you, rubbing your clit as you nearly screamed out loud. carlos bucked his hips up a couple times, making you see stars as you quite suddenly cummed all over his cock. carlos followed quickly after, muffling his groans into a bruising kiss that had you chasing after him for more.

"w-what about now? you feel better now?" you asked, tilting your head as you gasped for air.

carlos bit his lip, pretending to be deep in thought, before smiling "i think a few more rounds would do me some good, princesa."

[ghostskiss]

I just done playing cod mw3 and Soap death killed me from the inside, just want to console my mind, I want to see Simon with Soap'ssister!Y/N as lover having each other after the trauma please??? i love your writing and i believe you can ease my heart <3

hey bby! sorry for the late reply, i hope this eases you after some time <3

———

Pain

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Lil Sis Y/N

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ANGST, Trauma bonding, Character Death, Mentions of depression, Grief, Sadness, Blood/Injury TW, Bathing in a tub, Soft!Dom Simon, Massaging/hands all over F! body, Clitplay, crygasm, tbh kind of DDLG-esque ((to me at least)). No DDLG wording used though Tried not to spoil too much on Soap's death for other readers!

note: please take care of yourselves loves. if you relate to Y/N in this, i am so very sorry and it does get better. be patient and kind with yourselves and reach out. people need you as much as you need them and that is a strength. not a weakness.

———

Pain.

Pain is what you've been feeling. Disaster, chaos, sadness. But pain was King in your heart. The deciding factor for many things in your life since your big brother has...

You grip your chest and double over in the kitchen, dropping your coffee mug in the sink. Sucking in a breath, you allow the grief to wash over you in the deadening wave that it is. That's what you've learned over these past couple of months. They come and go in waves, this thing called Grief. It hurts every time. Sometimes at night you wonder if they'll ever go away. If it'll always feel like you're drowning without him here. Your big brother. Johnny.

Even though you're clenching your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel through this pain, you haven't cried lately. It's like you've cried so much the first couple of months that your tear ducts have stopped working. A few more moments pass and you stand up straighter, looking at the broken mug in the sink. You feel nothing now, like you hadn't been in agonizing pain just seconds ago. Enough to have made you drop and break one of your favorite mugs. Awhile ago that would've made you cry. You used to be so raw with emotion after the passing of Johnny. Now nothing seems to get you to except the random waves of grief.

Touching a shard in the sink with mild disinterest, you think about all things you used to do. Things that made you feel something. Anything but this never-ending pressure and weight on your shoulders, like you're carrying it around like a support blanket. Your finger slips on the shard, the ceramic cutting into your pointer finger, blood welling to the surface quickly. Another glance of mild disinterest as you bring your hand up to study the open the wound. It hadn't even hurt. How...odd. The warmth of the red liquid trails down your hand to your wrist, as it slowly leaks from your finger.

The doorbell rings, pulling you out of your morbid trance and you blink, almost in shock from the sound. Some days it feels like you're holed up in world different from others entirely, that no one can get you here. The doorbell rings again and this time your feet seem to be unglued finally. Ripping off a paper towel, you press it to your finger and yell out weakly,

"Coming."

Your voice cracks painfully and you wince. When was the last time you'd spoken out loud? The grip you have on your finger tightens as you glance around your home. Christ, when was the last time you'd cleaned anything? Eaten? When was the last time -

Someone pounds on the front door. You zoned out again in the middle of the front entry way. Trying to blink away your dazed state, you reach for the door, opening it. A breath catches in your throat, staring at the...

Ghost.

Ghost.

The man stares down at you in his own confused state, his dark eyes behind that mask he wears taking in inventory of every little thing. In the past you would've shrunk away from his searching gaze. In the past, you would've felt fear. You would've felt self conscious. You stare up at him and will yourself to feel something, anything.

You realize he'd been talking to you and you blink again, voice croaking, "Sorry? What?"

"Why the hell are you bleeding?" His head nods to your hands.

You glance down confused, had already forgotten what happened moments ago. The blood has seeped through your meager little paper towel and was making a fine mess down your arm again. Detached, you state, "Broke my mug."

Ghost is silent for a moment, watching you watch the blood trickle down even more. He's almost unnerved, seeing you in this state. How long have you been like this? His jaw clenches under his mask and he gently grabs your hand with injured finger, squeezing it to keep the blood from flowing as he redirects you back inside. The fact that you move in zombie-like trance pains him. Something he knows well. Seeing it in you...seeing it in Soap's baby sister. And knowing what you're feeling or you're lack of feeling makes his chest hurt.

In your dissociated and detached state, you move with him as he guides you through your own home from behind you. You don't feel entirely here on this plane of existence. But you know that you trust this man, that he's going to help you with your injured finger. That this was a man that your brother trusted with his life. His life.

That thought snaps you out of it and you inhale sharply, taking in your surroundings like you'd been asleep this whole time. Ghost has since sat you down at the kitchen table, glass of water next to you and some ibuprofen. The water runs in the kitchen sink and you can smell your lavender hand soap. Your head turns to the kitchen, catching Ghost's gaze as he dries his hands off. He stares at you and then nods to the items on the table. Turning back to it, you grab the glass and frown, seeing your already bandaged finger. You drink some water and down the pain killers with it as Ghost comes around and pulls a chair from the table to sit in front of you. He gently grabs your hands into his and holds them, leaning his elbows on his legs.

"How are you?" his voice is quiet, not exactly a whisper, but something above it. It's nice. It's calm. It's familiar, in a way. You think about the last time you'd seen him. When was it? Johnny's funeral. Johnny.

"Hey."

You look up from your joined hands, realizing yet again you'd went away somewhere. Ghost's eyes ping to yours, back and forth, like he's trying to read your mind. Like he's trying to figure out where you're going too. How to keep you here with him. How to keep you present. He leans closer, and you don't even flinch. Like you're in and out of your own consciousness, not aware of anything. His bare hands run up your arms softly and he notes the goosebumps raising as he tickles you. Good. At least you're somewhat aware of that. You blink again, coming back to him from the stimulation. You shiver slightly and Ghost hums, deciding that physical touch is going to work at least for now.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, peering up at him. Your eyes are wide, like he's waking you up out of a dream you'd been stuck in for awhile. This is going to hurt, he realizes. He gently squeezes your shoulders.

"To check in on you. Soap..." his voice dips, "Johnny told me to look after you. I...I'm sorry I haven't been here." He stops at that, not knowing what to say. He doesn't have an excuse. He can't say it was work. Can't say it was anything but his own selfishness, his own pain, his own anguish. He'd lost a brother too.

Something in his voice triggers it in you. Something that starts to slowly swell up inside, like a different kind of pressure. You feel more alert, sharper.

"You're sorry?"

Ghost nods and lets out a slow sigh, his fingers still loosely trailing on your skin. It's starting to irritate you slightly, as you feel his touch awaken your skin. "I don't have an excuse. I made a promise and I couldn't keep it. But I'm here now. I'm here. And if I had known...if I had known you were like this I wouldn't have been... I don't know. Scared. Scared to see you. I was -am- grieving too."

Scared to see you. The man who was the last person with Johnny. The man who had him more than you had him. The man who took your brother away from him. Scared of you. Grieving too. Like he had his brother killed. Killed. Taken away.

Anger. Anger is what this new feeling is. You almost revel in it, almost shuddered with excitement that you're finally, finally feeling something other than the pain. Your heart rate picks up and you almost feel delirious.

"If you hadn't known I was like this?"

Ghost catches the change in your tone and his gaze jerks back up to you in question. You can see his brows dip in confusion as he pulls his hands away from you.

"Honey, look around this place. You...you're not doing okay. I shouldn't have waited this long." He says gently, like you're not aware of how bad you are. Like you have no idea how much you've been in. Like you're not aware at all.

"I know I'm not doing okay, Simon." You spit out behind clenched teeth, "My brother got killed."

Ghost flinches at that, jerking back into his seat as he stares at the ground.

You feel like you conquered something. You feel in control suddenly, prideful that you hurt him with your words. You stand up abruptly, knocking your chair back and Ghost looks up at you with pain in his eyes. You feel high off of that fact. You aren't the only one in pain anymore. You don't have to feel it. You can inflict it.

"You weren't the one who lost your family." Another flinch from the man in front of you, "You weren't the one who had random men show up at your front door step and tell you your brother was killed. You weren't the one who had to go to the funeral and see people who knew him, but not the way that you knew him, people who didn't grow up with him, people who took him away from his real family, people who only worked with him not loved him-"

"I loved him."

Your next words catch in your throat as you gaze down at him in shock.

"What -"

"I said I loved him." Ghost stands up slowly, his hands up like he's approaching a wounded and feral animal. You back up in fear like one anyways. "I loved your brother. I loved Johnny. Johnny loved you. He loved you. He'd always talk about you. He'd show me the letters you'd write him when we'd be shipped out. He'd show me pictures of your family. He'd tell me anything he could about you. He loved you. I know you loved him. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm sorry I couldn't share the things I had with Johnny, but I'm here now and I'm ready. I'm ready to share anything you want to hear, I know we weren't close before this, but your brother was my best friend. He was a brother to me. I know that our pain of losing him is different, but we still lost someone dear to us. Your brother was dear to me. You alone for that are dear to me as well. I will not let you walk through this alone anymore, sweetheart."

Ghost slowly reaches up and brushes your cheeks and that's when you realize you're crying. A sob catches your throat as you throw yourself at the man in front of you, burying your face into his chest as you cry. His arms come around you, keeping you to him, holding you as your body shakes with emotions. It's not only pain now. Nor anger. There's love and relief. Because now someone does finally understand where your heart and head have been since your brother passed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Simon I didn't -" you start, staring up at him with tears blurring your vision. He shushes you and shakes his head, thumbing your tears away.

"Allow yourself to feel everything in this. No emotion is wrong. Anger is healthy." He rubs your back as you press your face in his chest again, breathing him in. It feels good, being hugged by a man such as him. After a few moments, Ghost untangles you slowly from him and jerks his head to the stairs. "Let's get you in a bath."

----------------------------

You stare down at the bubble bath lit with candles in a bit of anxiety. It looks warm and welcoming. Holding your finger up you stare at the gauze wrapped tightly around it. Strict orders under Lt Ghost was to not remove the bandage, even when you complained you'd had to leave your entire hand out of the bath then.

Startling you into a slight jump, Ghost's voice comes from behind the paper thin bathroom door, "You okay? I don't hear you in the bath."

You gnaw on your bottom lip, "Yeah, I'm uh...thinking."

"Thinking?"

You dip your toe in and shudder in delight. Yeah, that man might not look it, but he runs a good bubble bath. You lower yourself slowly, careful not to get your bandaged finger wet. Your body seems to groan with relief as you settle back into the water, head dipping back to lean on the edge of the tub. A few quiet seconds go by before Ghost is at the door again.

“You okay?”

You nod and then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah.” your voice sounds calm and at peace for once. You look around the dimly lit bathroom, candles on the counter lighting the room just enough. “I just wish I could wash my hair. Or anything really. I can’t get my hand wet.”

You think he’s gone by the lack of reply. Which is fine, you didn’t expect him to sit outside your bathroom door the entire time, even if he said he would. That’d be ridiculous to ask of him —

“I can do it. Wash your hair, I mean.” His voice is so soft from behind the door you think you made it up.

“I—”

He starts up again, this time a tad louder and rushed, like he’s trying to find the right words without offending you, “I won’t look. Obviously. There should be enough bubbles to uh… cover you. Not that I’d look even if there weren’t any. Just. Listen I’ll only help wash your hair. Don’t want you to get your bandage wet.” He pauses for a second. “If you want.”

You think it over while looking down at the bath. He’s right, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. You chew on your lip, thinking it over, probably for too long. Letting a slow sigh to calm your nerves, you nod and call him in. He comes in silently and you tense, feeling his presence fill the room. What are you doing? This is your brother’s…lieutenant. War buddy. Best friend. You’re letting him in the bathroom with you while you’re naked for Christ’s sake.

You turn to catch him rolling up his sleeves, bare hands grabbing the edge of the tub to help lower himself down to his knees. You feel yourself shrink back into the bubbles, glad for the low lighting so he can’t see you blushing. He’s staring at you softly, like he’s watching every tiny reaction you’re having to him. Studying you to see if you’re too uncomfortable. You don’t want him to leave so you sit up a little, moving closer to him. He nods a bit and reaches up to untangle your hair from the pile you placed on top of your head. He sweeps his fingers through your hair and your eyes close, allowing yourself to feel in the moment. Not think it. He grabs your bath cup and dips it in the water, letting the warmth cascade through your hair. Gently, he tips your head back so it doesn’t get in your eyes, his large hands are surprisingly soft as he finishes getting your hair wet enough for shampoo. His fingers massage your scalp with the suds and you groan, leaning into him more.

He chuckles, “You’re acting like a cat.”

“Do you like cats?” you ask, curious. Your eyes are closed and you hum as he rubs your head more.

“Hm. I’d like you if you were a cat.”

“You hardly know me. What if I were a bad cat?”

“No such thing.”

He dumps more water through your hair, rinsing you free of all your past worries and fears. You feel your body relax more and you sigh, sad that this is going to end soon. Your eyes peer open at him and you shiver, now thinking of how you have a man, this large mysterious man bathing you. You’ve known of him, met him a couple of times when Johnny would come home and bring him along. But he never talked much, in fact, you were a little scared of him sometimes. Johnny always joked with him but you swear the man was mute around your family. Seeing him so…intimately under the lighting of your bathroom, his rough but gentle hands on you, washing you and touching you, had your heart clenching and your thighs pressing together under the water. Was that wrong of you? What would your brother think right now? In the beginning it was appropriate enough, but now with these thoughts running rampant, it didn’t feel like an innocent hair washing session. You were suddenly so aware of how naked you were. How the bubbles in the bath were dissipating like they do after some time.

Ghost looks at your bandaged finger, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him to inspect it. He makes a satisfied sound in seeing that you haven’t gotten it wet.

“Need me to wash you?”

Your throat dries as you stare at him, as he’s casually looking over your hand in his. You think of those very same hands on your body. His fingers caressing you, sudsing you up with your body wash. You’re about to tell him no, to be respectful to him. He’s probably innocently thinking he’s helping you and here you are getting worked up over him just washing your hair.

“I won’t…I won’t—”

“Do anything I don’t want you to?” You finish for him, not sure if that’s what he was even going to say. He nods anyways and catches your gaze to level it, like he’s telling you means it. Not only with his words but his eyes. You nod back and you stare at each other for a moment longer before he’s reaching for the wash. He pours some in the palm of his large hand and you swallow, turning your gaze away from him, the eye contact beginning to have been too much.

His hands connect with your shoulder softly and you close your eyes, tension leaving you quicker than you thought. He leans you forward a bit and gets your back, dipping under the water and coming back up. Your head lulls to the side as he comes back up and sweeps his hand across your collarbones, raising your arm to get your armpit and you giggle, though he seems to be taking his job seriously. He grunts at your reaction and turns your body a bit to get the other side of you.

You shudder, trying not to squirm under his tickling touch. His hands dip under the water to grab one of your legs and you squeal, catching the sides of the tub so you don't tip under. He laughs lightly, lathering up your calves and feet, your toes trying to wiggle out from underneath his grip. It's light and playful until you sit up, completely forgetting the setting that you're in. Ghost's hands drop from you and he sits back abruptly, making you frown and glance down at yourself. Bubbles from the bath are slowly falling from your breasts down your sides and stomach, your nipples tightening from the change in temperature. Ghost's wet hands grip the edge of the bath and you're both frozen, like you're both shocked at what you're witnessing. Heat fills your body and you turn towards him more, hearing the ever so slight hitch in his breath as your nipple grazes his knuckles.

Your uninjured hand grabs one of his and tugs gently, getting him to unglue his fingers from the tub. He watches you move your joined hands towards your chest and he utters your name out in a low warning. You pretend not to hear him as you guide his hand to cup a breast gently.

"You didn't wash me here." You whisper innocently, now looking up at him through your wet lashes. You feel Ghost's fingers spread before lightly gripping you in response. You shiver, pressing more into his touch.

Ghost lets out a noise in the back of his throat, like he's unsure on how to proceed. "We--"

You grab his other hand and do the same thing, the sudden action cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. His eyes drop to your breasts and he swipes a thumb across your nipple before testing the weight of you in his palms. You let out a small sigh, eyelids drooping from the feel of his warm hands on you. He plays with you like that, sweeping, feeling, testing, and washing your tits as you struggle to keep your head up from the pleasure. His fingers trail down to your sternum, even further to your belly button and you're nodding your head, like you're trying to encourage him to keep going.

"You want me to wash you there too, honey?"

You're nodding again, eyes half open while your press as much of yourself into his hands. Practically begging him without saying the words. Ghost hums and he pulls away entirely, standing up to chuck off his sweater that's gotten wet from the bath. Underneath he's got a plain black t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and you sit back, taking the large man in as he settles back down.

"Turn around. Lean your back here." He pulls your shoulders against the tub, his hands coming around you. You look down and watch his hands fondle your tits, fingers coming around to pinch your nipples lightly, just giving you enough pressure to gasp. His head settles in the crook of your shoulder, material of the mask brushing against your neck lightly, tickling you. He turns and whispers darkly in your ear while one hand trails down the front of your body, other gripping your chest.

"Let yourself feel. Stay with me."

Your eyes drift shut as his fingers go lower and lower until you're raising your hips to catch his finger tips into your sex. He chuckles airlessly, pressing into your aching clit. "Right here, baby?" You nod again frantically, whining out as he starts pressing slow circles. Your clit throbs as his fingers catch it, rolling it and playing with it as you gasp out. "Keep that bandage dry." The tone he delivers that in has an underlining connotation of a threat. An or else.

It makes your breath hitch and your head lull back, hitting his shoulder as he leans into you from behind the tub, his fingers playing slowly, exploring you. His other hand cups and plays with your breasts and he hums with curiosity when he finds the right spot, the right pressure. You don’t need to tell him, he can tell by the way you tense and then melt into him, almost like you’re fighting against the pleasure he’s giving you. His cock strains hard against his jeans and he curses himself about the morals and lines you two are crossing, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. In the throes of your pleasure as you cry out louder, your hands that were on the tub’s edge start to slip and the masked man tsks at you.

“Hands out of the water.”

You whimper and place them back on the edge, gripping and holding so you don’t entirely submerge yourself in the water containing you. Ghost picks up the pace of his fingers circling your clit and you moan out, hips bucking up. You’re close.

“Ghost,” you gasp, not sure what you’re about to say or beg or plead for.

“That’s it. Let go. Let go.” his voice is coaxing, like he’s gently leading you, not demanding you. Nurturing you, taking care of you. Your body responds like it was a command, toes curling, head falling backwards, breath catching and then crescendoing as your legs tense up, capturing Ghost’s ever moving hand to your pussy as you come. It’s breathtaking and blinding, and by the time you come back to reality, you’re gasping for air like you finished running.

Ghost lets you gather your bearings before he’s slowly untangling himself from you, rinsing the rest of your body off. He helps you stand on your wobbly legs, pulling you up and put of the tub with ease. A warm large towel comes around you and he dries you off thoroughly before wrapping it around your body and pulling you into him. He rests his cheek on top of your head, rubbing your back in the embrace. You can feel yourself crying, though you’re not sad. You blink away the tears as Ghost holds you.

“Let’s get you in bed sweetheart.”

He transitions you into your bed, and you reach out for him with watery eyes. He sighs a bit, but kicks off his boots and clambers into the bed after you, somehow just knowing this entire time what you need. The bandage, the bath, the feeling of something other than the pain in your heart. He pulls you into him, keeping you wrapped in the covers and he softly kisses your forehead through his mask. Your eyelids droop. Even though you’ll never get your brother back, and Ghost will never get his back, you’re here together. Going through it together. You were never really alone, even with how bad it hurt and how much you thought otherwise. It didn’t hurt right now, but it may in the future and that’s okay. You had time. You’re going to take it one step at a time.

“I’m right here baby. You’re okay.”

And you knew he was right.

[agroteraa]

Watermelon Sugar

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Just a slice of hot summer in Saltburn.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjob, finger sucking.

Word Count: 3,2K

Almost two weeks had passed after the karaoke night events. It was a sultry August noon, and you were reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool. You were lying on your stomach on a lounger, dangling your feet in the air and eating triangularly sliced pieces of watermelon. Time seemed to freeze and melt in this heat, and at that moment it felt like that summer would never end. That would be perfect.

Oliver sauntered over to the pool, topless, his T-shirt on his shoulders. There you were.

You were so engrossed in reading that you didn't hear him approach. Besides, he came unnoticed. As always.

Your legs swung back and forth in the air alternately exposing your buttocks, slightly peeking out of your colorful swimsuit.

Oliver swallowed involuntarily. He leaned against the nearest wall, clutching the ends of his blue T-shirt tightly in his hands. He loved every inch of your body, but he was already beginning to realize that your ass was especially driving him crazy. He was a booty man and never missed a chance to put his hand on top, squeeze or kiss it. Or better to do everything at once. And sometimes even give it a little slap. He was thinking more and more often that maybe he should try to go a little bit further with that and see your reaction. At that thought, he shifted against the warm rough bricks of the wall, tugging the ends of his cloth tighter.

God, if only he could have his way with you just right there, by the pool. Sit down next to you, give you a little massage, and then... take you as he wished it and as you wished it too. On a lounger, by the pool, in the water, or better yet, all in turn. And so that all the inhabitants of Saltburn, its guests and servants could hear how much pleasure Oliver was bringing you. But alas, this was not his home. At least for now, he had not yet fully decided on this issue for himself.

His body began aching numbly, and, unable to just stand and think all these thoughts anymore, Oliver finally decided to declare his presence.

"Hey, Y/N, do you mind if I lie down next to you?"

"Oliver... Didn't hear you coming!" you abruptly turned over on the sunbed, with a piece of watermelon in one hand and a book in the other. Watermelon juice began to flow slightly down your hand, you put a piece of watermelon on a plate, quickly licking the remaining juice from your hand and wiping against your leg. Oliver carefully followed all these movements with the silent gaze. You lifted your sunglasses, greeting him with warmth in your eyes. Oliver couldn't help but smile back.

"I think I left my book here yesterday," Quick went to the far little table to get his belonging, and then laid down on the next lounger from you.

"Oh, you’ve started a new one?"

"Yeah," he confirmed absent-mindedly, opening it and searching for the place where he had left off the previous time. It seemed that Oliver was not just reading books, but devouring them for lunch.

"Huh, I'm still reading Harry Potter..." your voice became a little sad and thoughtful. Of course, you also read a lot of things during your studies, but still not all of them from the list, and during the summer break you preferred to distract yourself with something lighter, almost childish even. While Oliver read one big serious book after another, also he had recently read Harry Potter in less than a week to be aware of what you were all constantly talking about, discussing the plot, "How you’re doing that?"

"Well, you take the book, open it... and then you start to look at the lines of letters that add up to meaningful words and sentences," Oliver explained in a serious tone, barely hiding his smile.

You snickered back, "Should’ve known that sooner!"

He chuckled, and you both went deep into reading your stuff. After a couple of minutes, your smile faded again.

"What is it, Y/N?" it seemed that nothing could be hidden from Oliver. You decided to tell him as it was, choosing the words and overcoming some embarrassment, "I just... I don't know. You read so much, and in general, you’ve achieved everything yourself at Oxford, including entering it. Well, of course, me too... Kinda... But still, it seems that you do more and work harder than I do. Even the way you read in your free time. I've been reading Harry Potter for the second month now. Of course, I'm just enjoying it, stretching the pleasure, it's also important, you know... But anyway, I'm not like you, I wish I could be you in certain way..."

Oliver listened to your mumbling until his eyebrows began to rise and warm smile appeared on his face.

"Y/N. You're not like me, and that's why I like you," Oliver said tenderly.

"And you don't even know how much," he added mentally. You could think that he would judge by your close communication over the past couple of weeks, or at least since the beginning of the summer, but he has already studied you very well since your meeting at Oxford. You were kind, you were kind to him, especially when you comforted him the day he told Felix and you about his family and the whole "father situation". Yes, not at all as interested as you were now, but it was only a matter of time, Oliver had been hoping for this from the very beginning. Yes, you were much kinder than him. Basically, this reason alone possibly could have been enough, but he did not deny himself the pleasure of mentally going over the rest of your qualities, which were different from his own.

You were open and generous, you were similar to Felix here, but unlike him, you were more modest and even a bit shy. And, of course, you were smart, although sometimes very naive. But for Oliver, it wasn't a flaw, he adored your naivety and innocence.

That trick with Felix's towels and your little lie about the malfunction of the second bathroom, he totally forgave and recorded it as a childish prank. He decided that it even amused and touched him, the way you childishly decided to take the initiative and allegedly outwit Quick.

He felt like a tiger that a little kitten had tried to hunt. The tiger that laid calmly next to the kitten and smiled lazily, waving his tail, which the little hunter was trying to catch. Oliver smiled lazily at the thought himself and decided that someday he even wouldn't mind if you tried to repeat such an innocent prank. And he would think about what he would do to you after that.

You were never capable of even a small part of what he was willing to do and had done in life to achieve his goals, to the extent that you would never have thought of such a thing. That was also why he had chosen you. You didn't have to be power hungry like him. On the contrary, it would be more than enough for him if you were hungry only for your rather harmless aspirations and, of course, for Oliver himself.

You were quite a complete and content person on your own, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place for himself in this life. But he had found his place beside you and planned to stay there for a long time, ideally, forever.

And of course, he adored the power he had over you, the way you looked at him trustingly and fascinated whenever he told you something. The way you looked away shyly when he gazed at you too intensely at breakfasts or dinners. The way you looked at him with your doe eyes, lying under him in bed, as if bewitched. The way he made you feel. Moan. Dig your fingers and nails deeper into his skin. Throw your head back with pleasure. Say his name. And generally, the fact that his name was coming out from your lips. Wheresoever. All the time.

And if only you knew what kind of power you have over him yourself. It seemed that even Oliver himself sometimes did not fully comprehend this, but he definitely felt it on a subconscious, instinctive level. He felt boundless joy, excitement and pride that the object of his adoration finally adored him. If there was a happiness, which Oliver sometimes looked for confirmation of in the philosophical books that he read, then it definitely laid in this for him.

He wanted a lot from you, it was true, but in return he was ready to throw the whole world at your feet and even more.

You were smiling sheepishly, still processing his words. The sunglasses on your face had slipped down slightly, revealing your equally embarrassed, but gentle and expressive gaze to him. He reached out to you, leaning on your lounger with one hand, and gently kissed you on the lips. The book in your hands trembled a little.

"It seems it’s getting too hot in here. I'm going to take a dip," Quick winked at you, got up from his sunbed and walked to the edge of the pool. Spreading his shoulder blades on his broad, muscular back, he stood on tiptoe a little and made a rather graceful leap into the water. To be honest, for a while you forgot about the adventures of young wizards, all your thoughts were now occupied by Oliver and how he swam in the water, making wide strokes with his fit arms. You even thought about joining in, but he came out of the water pretty quickly and flopped down on his lounger with his stomach down, exhaling contentedly.

You looked at him through your glasses. Drops of water trickled down his body that was heating up, repeating the contour of his every lean muscle, his dark slightly curly hair turned into wet, completely black strands. Then he turned over, exposing his face, glistening from the water, to the hot sun. He had just cooled off in the pool, but he looked damn hot. He was like an animated marble statue basking in the August sun on a lounger next to you. You inhaled the warm sticky air sharply but quietly, deciding to focus on reading. Oliver chuckled faintly, without opening his eyes. Surely, he couldn't know how you stared at him through your black sunglasses. Or could he? You weren't sure anymore.

Finally, really deep into reading, you took another piece of watermelon and began to eat it with appetite. The watermelon was juicy, so it started running down your chin and then down the hand that was holding it. You put down the book and reached for a napkin, when suddenly you heard a slightly hoarse "Let me." Looking in surprise to the side, you found that Oliver was shamelessly examining you, lying on his side, and, apparently, for some time. His unblinking gaze and slightly parted lips turned something in your stomach. His chest rose and fell noticeably from his rather heavy breathing.

He gently took your hand by the wrist and then slowly ran his tongue over it, climbing up the palm and licking the watermelon juice from it. A familiar knot started to form in your stomach. Oliver took turns taking your fingers into his mouth. Thumb. His lips were very tender. He pulled your completely clean finger out of his mouth with a smacking sound. Index finger. His lips were soft but at the same time firm. He started looking you straight in the eye.

Middle finger. You felt his soft, hot tongue against your skin. Ring finger. God, he started to lick and suck your fingers lightly at the same time. Pinkie. You were already burning down there, as you shifted your gaze from to the place where your fingers met Oliver's caressing mouth, to his piercing blue eyes, which looked at you from under their black eyelashes, almost without blinking.

He had never done this before, but now you didn't understand how you had lived without that feeling all this time. You wanted to eat a watermelon sloppily every day so that he would do this. Seeing how much you liked it, how you started fidgeting your legs on the sunbed, he once again ran his lips over your middle and index fingers, sucking them both at the same time. You let out a soft moan. Oliver smiled contentedly, closing his eyes and enjoying the process. You opened your lips in a silent exhale, looking at the guy, unable to tear yourself away from this sight. There was already a fire raging in the pit of your stomach and below.

Taking your fingers out of his mouth, he briefly kissed your palm, and then threw one of his hands over your body, leaning on your lounger. It made an surprised squeak at the presence of a guest. His heated by the sun metal chain hung, almost touching your lips. You even had the thought of taking it in your mouth. You gulped.

"Do you know, Y/N, how sweet you are? And right now, literally," Oliver put his face close to your chin and licked off the remnants of watermelon juice. Moving his tongue higher, he licked the contour of your lips. You could barely lie still, but at the same time you seemed frozen by everything that was happening now. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting out a soft groan. The sweetness of the watermelon and your tongues mixed in your mouth, making your head spin. His wet and sticky lips caressed your lips, making some breaths and moans. He almost completely rolled over with his body on your lounger. The hotness of the sun and Oliver's hotness almost drove you to sunstroke. You could feel the firmness of his body and the way his swim trunks were getting tighter by the second. It was almost unbearable.

You broke off the kiss while recovering your breath. Oliver was looking at you, unsure of what to do next. More precisely, he knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't afford it right now, so his brain was quickly calculating all possible options.

"Shall we go for a dip together?" you nodded affirmatively at his suggestion. Getting up from the sunbed, he took you by both hands and led you to the edge of the pool.

"Together" means "to the very end," he smirked, and without letting go of your hands, he took a step back, plunging into the pool. You squeaked as you flew after him. In the water, Oliver's strong arms caught you and spun you around a little right under the water. You let out a laugh, releasing a few bubbles instead of "ha-ha."

Then you surfaced, and Quick pinned you between his muscular arms at the edge of the pool. There you both reached the bottom with your feet there, and you were pressed closer to the cool wall of the pool. It was a pleasant contrast between this and Oliver's body, which was even somehow hotter in the water.

"And what I am to do with you? With you, lying in your swimsuit in the sun, enjoying yourself so much and eating watermelon so seductively all the damn day. It's impossible to look at it and just put up with it," Oliver said, kissing you again passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs began to wrap around his pelvis. You felt his boner with your crotch even in the water. He hissed faintly. You involuntarily began to rub and cling to him even more, feeling the literal fire under the water down there.

"Don't tempt me any more," he whispered against your lips, "Or else..."

One of his hands went deeper under the water, his fingers parted the fabric of your bikini to the side. Soon you felt his fingers inside you. The feeling in the water was slightly unusual, but you liked it. Oliver was slowly caressing you, and you tilted your head back a bit, unable to figure out where the wetness of the pool ended and your own begun. Oliver was moaning softly near your ear, and you could barely contain your loud moans. His fingers worked so well inside you that it felt like the entire pool was filled exclusively with your moisture.

You snuggled closer to the guy, and he started kissing your neck, which made your body cover in goosebumps. Then he slipped his other hand into your swimsuit and squeezed one breast. You let out a groan. Oliver added another finger, your legs curled around him, you wanted to moan at the top of your voice, but you were afraid that someone might come up at any moment and see what you two were doing here. The mixture of fear of being caught and wild excitement made brought you to the peak much faster than you expected.

"Is my girl done much faster today?" Oliver asked innocently, stroking your waist, "Admit it, it’s rather turning on. The probability of being caught. You feel it too, don't you? Oh, yes, you do understand me..."

Oliver slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He really liked the fact that you were different, but he was even more pleased with the moments where your morality and your desires sometimes converged at the same one ambiguous point.

He grinned contentedly when you, nodding slightly and biting your lip, a little timidly reached for his swim trunks with your hands. He exhaled sharply when you felt his bump and ran your soft hand up and down his hard cock several times. The movements of your hand in the water felt like in a slow motion. Oliver half-closed his eyes, holding onto the sides of the pool, and hissed, "Yes, my sweet Y/N, that's it, don't stop… Wait."

He recoiled a little from you, you involuntarily turned around, following his frowning gaze. Felix. He was walking to the pool in sunglasses, wearing a yellow shirt and swimming trunks, carrying a towel and some drink in a can. You laughed awkwardly and embarrassedly while Oliver was rather tense and very displeased. But he forced himself to distract himself, for your sake and for Felix too.

"Hi guys! How long have you been... Hey-y, did I interrupt something?" Catton Jr. asked rather jokingly, seeing you laughing in the pool, but he still tensed a little from the proximity of your distance.

"No, we just came in, join us!" Oliver shouted cheerfully, dispelling the guy's suspicions. At least, most of them.

While Felix was undressing and putting his things on his lounger, you looked pointedly at Oliver and sighed quietly, pursing your lips. Quick blinked slowly in response and nodded slightly, assuring you that way that your fun would definitely continue soon, and no one would dare to interrupt you next time.

But still, Oliver thought to himself, he would have to ponder again all the options for how to make sure that you wouldn't be disturbed inside and outside this house, not only for the next time, but preferably never again.