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luxurychristmaspudding · 5 months

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summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were.

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else.

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly.

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted.

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features.

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him.

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after.

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful.

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi.

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway.

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it.

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar.

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles.

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman.

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight.

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out.

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says.

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

- before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste.

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it -

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty.

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising.

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read.

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder.

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks.

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay.

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door.

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet.

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out -

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you.

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

- before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing.

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left.

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye.

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly.

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck.

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting.

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing.

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away.

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie.

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes.

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park.

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable.

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together.

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move.

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week.

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun.

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is.

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on.

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point.

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi.

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call.

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave.

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives.

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once.

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it.

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers.

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes.

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him.

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand.

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire.

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him.

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says.

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear.

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips.

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out.

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good -

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom.

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him.

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already.

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both.

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head.

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets -

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied.

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say.

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat.

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest.

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless.

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before.

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again.

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry.

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out.

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long.

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea.

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper.

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours.

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning.

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards.

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #joel miller x frankie morales x reader

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theblueflower05 · 8 months

Text

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would’ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning “-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x flora #neteyam x you

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witchofhimring · 10 months

Text

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

#rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra x harwin #rhaenyra x criston #laenor velaryon #daemon targaryen #criston cole #harwin strong #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months

Text

Dr. Stevens and His Sugar Baby

Warnings: SMUT, Sugar daddy Erik, Daddy dom Erik, embarassment kink.

Suggested Listening:

Part Six.

Erik and Sienna pulled up behind a myriad of luxury cars outside of a mutual friend’s Hamptons home. Erik stepped out of his Mercedes-Benz G-class G AMG in all white wearing a white crochet short sleeve boxy-fit polo with white chinos. He completed his outfit with white-gold diamonds that accessorized his ears, neck, wrist, and fingers and a pair of all white Alexander McQueen sneakers.

Erik walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, holding out his hand for his Princess to take. Sienna clutched his large hand and swung one shapely leg over so she could step down carefully in her white leather kafin ankle strap stilettos. The white mini dress she wore had a deep plunge and it was embellished. Her skin was silky smooth and shimmery, reminding him of a paradise.

The venue was a sprawling beachfront property teeming with contemporary art, its facade gleaming as brightly as the white ensembles that filled the space. (By night, the rooftop was transformed into a dance floor and glowed in neon pink). Everyone of elite status from doctors to Hollywood stars attended this party every year. It wasn’t a surprise that the moment Dr. Erik Stevens walked in he was known by many.

Sienna clung to her Daddy’s hand and with a beautiful smile and a flirty wave, she greeted everyone Erik introduced her to. Erik kept her close, at times with his hand on her lower back or his arm around her waist. Sienna craved the spoiled princess life amongst the rich and famous. To actually have her dreams come true before her eyes is astounding. She would have never guessed that Dr. Stevens would be the one to give good dick and gifts.

The warm breeze brushed against Sienna’s skin as the sun began to set and the party grew lively. Erik had Sienna sitting on his lap while he took sips of his tequila. Sienna had a drink of her own; a flirty martini. It was pink and sweet and the more she sipped from it the looser she became. The host of the party, a billionaire tech guru, walked around with a woman with a bad tan and a botched face. When they made their way over to Erik and their group, Sienna admired the woman. She smiled and her bloated lips almost took up her entire face.

“Stevens! Glad to have you here again. Jamie, Toni, and Leo, good to see you.”

Erik shook his hand, “Always a pleasure, Rich, thanks for having us. This is Sienna. Sienna, Richard Donald.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sienna said.

Erik’s friends said their hello’s and they introduced their sugar babies as well. Rich definitely gave Sienna the ick. He looked like the type of brother who exclusively dated white women and exoticals and talked shit about black women. That pushed back hairline and faux professional voice annoyed her.

“We have to set up that Brazil trip again!”

Rich tapped Erik’s shoulder with the back of his hand several times and ended it with a wink. Sienna caught on to that, glancing over at Erik through her wispy lash extensions. Sienna shared a look with Kitten, Emerald, and Treasure, every last one of them thinking the same thing. The man is a loser.

“This is Leslie. Leslie, these are friends of mine. We go back maybe ten years?”

“Correct. Ten years of putting up with us crazy bastards,” Leo replied with a smirk. Treasure was rubbing along his exposed chest through his white button down.

“Leo, speak for your fuckin’ self,” Jamie replied.

Toni and Erik simply laughed.

“Remind me to plan another Brazil trip, fellas. Adeus!”

“Adeus!” All four of them responded with raised gasses.

Rich and Leslie sauntered away with his hand on her flat bottom through her white silk dress.

“Adeus?” Emerald questioned Jamie.

“It’s farewell in Portuguese.” Jamie said.

“What goes down in Brazil?” Treasure asked.

Leo cleared his throat before taking a sip of his beer. Treasure elevated an arched brow at Leo, annoyance set in her features. She knew what they must have gotten into in Brazil.

Sienna stroked Erik’s neck, her martini making her feel horny. The scenery was beautiful and so was the fire pit crackling before them, but all Sienna wanted was to be stuffed full of her daddy’s dick.

She’d been on punishment for two days. No dick because she was flirting with a male nurse during clinicals. She had to get her daddy’s attention somehow since she hadn’t been in any of his surgeries for over a week. It seemed as if the workload for the orthopedic surgeon became a boatload. That also meant less time spent together outside of the hospital. It’s mostly been phone sex or virtual sex.

Sienna would set up a personal web cam session and each time she would put on a slutty costume that he purchased. Whatever he wanted her to do to make him cum after a hard day's work, Sienna was ordered to do it and gifted as a reward. Erik would alternate between talking her through her orgasm, using a Bluetooth vibrator, and beating his dick in the camera.

It didn’t help Sienna at all. She couldn’t take being away from that dick—skin to skin for so long. The male nurse had been dropping hints for a while that he was interested. He was 6’2 with a deep voice and a beautiful smile. His chestnut skin looked smooth and Sienna caught a glimpse of tattoos on his arms. He looked like he could beat the kitty up good and those arms were made for picking a bitch up and down on his dick.

Erik caught Sienna flirting with the nurse and he was heated. What Sienna didn’t know was that her sugar daddy was paying her a late night visit. He showed up at 2 am and since he had a key to her apartment now, he walked in and quietly entered her room. Sienna sat up when she felt her silk sheets being slowly removed from her body. She blinked beyond the darkness and noticed a naked Erik with his dick pointed out at her mouth.

“You like playing a lot of games in my face Sienna…”

“How dare you flirt with some other nigga in my face like that…I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, little mama…”

He used and abused her throat all night long. On her knees, while he was lying on the bed with her ass in the air, head hanging over the edge of the bed, lying on her side with him standing next to the bed. It didn’t matter. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t touch herself or feel his dick in her pussy. Sienna was misty-eyed and pleading with him. He almost caved with the visual of his cum on her face. He almost gave in when she spread her thighs to show him how wet she was.

And here they are now, day two and no fat dick.

“Daddy, can I have another drink?” Sienna whispered seductively in Erik’s ear.

Erik looked at Sienna with his dark orbs and it didn’t help that she needed him. Why did he have to look at her like that? And why can she feel his dick growing beneath her? He was teasing her.

“Sure, love. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Treasure stood up and Leo fixed her white leather mini skirt, “Coming, ladies?”

Emerald stood up next to Jamie and Kitten did the same next to Toni. They all walked away hand in hand to the bar. There, Sienna ordered another flirty martini. Treasure coerced them into taking shots and they agreed.

“What do y’all think this Brazil trip is about?” Kitten asked.

“They probably used to fuck women there,” Emerald replied with a laugh.

“My daddy better not!” Treasure argued.

“I don’t think they will, Treasure. They have us to look forward to. Why would they need to go to another country for good pussy when ours is here for the taking?” Sienna replied with a quirk of her brow.

“You’re right. I don’t know, I just worry that Leo’s gonna get tired of me.” Treasure revealed.

The thought has crossed Sienna’s mind too. She glanced over at Kitten and Emerald and their expressions mirrored Treasure’s.

“We don’t know what the future will hold, but let’s make the most of it right now! Our daddies are crazy about us! We have nothing to worry about.”

Sienna ordered another round of shots to get the girls in a better mood. It seemed to work, because now they were on the dance floor cutting up. They danced on each other in scandalous ways, all eyes on them like they were the main attraction. Their daddies had their eyes glued to them like a hawk to its prey. They weren’t going to miss anything. Sienna locked eyes with Erik and arched her back to shake her ass when the music called for it. He watched her with his eyes trailing up and down her body. Those crinkled shoulder length locs made him look even more delicious.

She couldn’t wait to look up at him pounding her pussy out with her ankles on his shoulders. Those locs loose and wild in his face, gold chain she picked out for him swinging in her face, gold slugs she gifted him showing each time he opened his mouth to command her to cum for him. She couldn’t take it anymore. If she had to piss this man off just for him to give her what she wants she’ll do it. The song switched to another banger and Sienna was getting more into the groove with her girls when a waiter walked up to her with another flirty martini on a tray.

“I didn’t order another drink,” Sienna said with a confused look.

“It was ordered by that man there.”

The waiter pointed to the bar and a famous football player; Odell Beckham Jr., raised his glass of cognac to her with a smirk. Sienna accepted the drink and raised her glass in return. Odell took that as a hint to approach her and Sienna’s heart was hammering away in her chest. Odell’s hair is dyed purple and he’s dressed in an unbuttoned white linen shirt with matching shorts and white A1’s on his feet. His diamond accessories almost blinded her and the art etched into his skin enhanced his confidence.

“How are you doing? I peeped that you liked those cute martinis so I figured I should treat you to another one.”

He smiled at her and all Sienna saw was white teeth and a diamond grill.

“They’re so good. Thanks for the drink, Odell.”

“No problem. What’s your name?”

Sienna nibbled on the rim of her glass as she looked up at Odell through her lashes.

“I’m Sienna.”

She held her hand out and Odell gently clasped her hand before bringing it to his lips to kiss. Treasure, Emerald, and Kitten watched the entire interaction with wide eyes. They couldn’t believe how bold Sienna was right now. Sure enough, Erik was walking over with a crease in his brow and a set jaw.

“I just had to talk to you. You’re so damn beautiful.”

Sienna blushed, “Thank you. You’re really handsome, Odell.”

Odell leisurely touched her elbow with his fingertips and it sent shivers down Sienna’s spine. He drew closer to her so that he could whisper in her ear.

“I ain’t seen you here before. You come alone?”

“Uhm—”

Erik showed up within their space and snaked his arm around Sienna’s waistline. Odell took a step back and he raised a brow. Odell sized Erik up before recognition crowded his features.

“Yo, ‘sup Doc?!”

They dabbed each other up firmly to the point where Sienna could see matching veins in both of their hands.

“This you?” Odell questioned while looking down at Sienna.

“Yeah…she’s mine.”

Erik’s fingers tightened on her waist. It was the tone of his voice. It became raspy with the slightest hint of a threat on the tip of his tongue razor sharp. Sienna released a shaky breath.

“I didn’t know…Y’all have a good evening—”

“Knee holding up good, Odell?” Erik said, cutting Odell off.

“Yeah…it’s all good. All new thanks to you.”

“Try to keep from getting injured this year. I don’t wanna have to see you on my operating table again.”

Sienna looked up at Erik. His eyes were like a pitch black abyss.

“Nah, can’t have that,” Odell looked Erik up and down with creased brows, “Y’all take care.”

Odell walked away quickly with a shake of his head but he didn’t hold back from giving Sienna one final look of interest.

Erik leaned down to whisper to Sienna.

“Haven’t learned your lesson yet I see.”

Sienna ignored him and knocked back her Martini. She peeled away from Erik and joined the other sugar babies in a dance. Erik narrowed his eyes at her and she knew he was ready to walk her out of this party and punish her.

It was something thrilling about seeing her doctor get angry and possessive. The anger she witnessed during surgeries was just work stress. This type of anger was primal. Bringing that dark side out of him whenever she disobeyed him exhilarated her. She danced with sticky panties and a racing heartbeat. She could feel his eyes on her and it made her skin tingle.

“You’re in trouble girl,” Treasure whispered in her ear while they were dancing.

Sienna looked over at their section and Erik was sitting there with an unblinking stare directly on her.

“Maybe we should go back to the table. It’s getting crowded.” Sienna said.

Hand in hand they walked back to the section and parted ways to sit with their sugar daddies. Sienna plopped down onto Erik’s open lap and sat her empty glass down. A dancehall song came on and Sienna started doing a slow wine on Erik. Sienna looked back at him over her shoulder and Erik had his lip between his teeth.

“You can’t stay mad at me for too long, can you?” Sienna teased.

“Oh, I’m still very mad, Sienna. This doesn’t change anything.” Erik replied.

His hands snaked up her waist.

“What if I get down on my knees and suck your dick in front of everyone? Would that change your mind?”

Jamie chuckled and everyone else watched like it was a movie.

“Sienna…”

He spoke her name softly but it held an edge.

“Yes, daddy?” Sienna replied with a soft voice.

“I think you better behave.”

“Or what?”

Erik cut his eyes at her and tilted his head. He didn’t need to say anything else, Sienna already knew. But that’s what she wanted.

“She’s a bratty one, Ignus,” Leo said.

Sienna giggled at Leo.

“Sienna, look at me.”

His voice was laced with lust. Sienna locked eyes with her daddy.

“I'll spank you right here in front of all these people if you don’t behave. Is that what you want daddy to do?”

Sienna pouts, “No, daddy. But you can fuck me in front of all these people.”

Erik’s hands remain still at her sides but his eyes glinted with rage. The others could feel his energy as well. Sienna’s eyes twinkled as she bat her lashes at him. Erik wrapped an arm around Sienna’s waist and lifted from his seat with her pressed against him.

“We’ll be right back,” Erik forced Sienna to walk.

He didn’t let go of her. Even with her legs moving, Erik was leading the way. Into the beach side mansion they went. There were some people sprinkled about talking closely for more privacy. Erik walked up the U-shaped staircase with a glass railing and as he climbed he picked Sienna up bridal-style. The sound of the music was a distant noise. Erik seemed to know where he was going. He found an empty room with a balcony view of the beach and the sky turning into night.

Erik slammed the door shut and locked it. He sat Sienna down on the bed with a bounce and without a word he stood before her and grabbed her neck. Sienna’s breath hitched as her once bratty eyes ascended his body.

“You really know how to get on my bad side, Sienna. What part of behaving tonight did you not understand?”

Sienna parted her lips but no words came out. Erik cocked his head to the side and curled a single brow at her impatiently.

“Open your mouth and speak when I’m talking to you, Sienna.” He said with an abrasive tone that caused her to jump.

Sienna swiped her glossy bottom lip with her tongue, “I’m sorry. I just wanted your attention.”

“Is that how you get my attention? By making me angry and jealous?”

“No…but it’s the way I like to do it.”

Erik’s hand around Sienna’s neck moved to her jaw. He forced her to look at him as he leaned in so close to her face his warm breath tickled her.

“You haven’t touched me in two days. I want that dick.” Sienna whispered seductively.

“You think you deserve dick when you want it?”

Sienna spread her legs and nodded her head. She was trying to get his attention in between. No panties and all wet for him.

“Give me a good reason why I should pull this dick out and give it to you, Sienna.”

Sienna smiled at Erik. She had more than one reason.

“Because I’m your favorite girl. You can’t stay mad at me forever. You can’t help but to give me what I want. And the way I make you feel is too addictive for you to control yourself…”

Erik looked Sienna up and down. His eyes sparked with lust at her words. He knew she was right. Sienna didn’t even have to look at his crotch to see that heavy dick print to know that she’d vanquished him once again.

“Please, Daddy, fuck me into submission.” Sienna whined.

Erik chuckled darkly, “you don’t deserve this good dick, slut. You don’t deserve more than my fingers in that pussy…hump my leg while I laugh at how pathetic you look begging for this dick…you should be thankful for anything I deign to give you since you want to be a disobedient slut…”

Sienna’s eyes were wet with desire at his degrading words that came out like a whisper. His deep voice sent shockwaves through her. She couldn’t wait for him to see how soaked she was.

“…punish you if you don’t act grateful for every little bit of attention I give you.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” Sienna shouted.

Erik cocked his head back at her blatant disregard for his words and with a sturdy hand he gripped her by her hair and forced Sienna on her knees. This was it. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest.

Whip that big dick out, she thought.

“Uh-uh, hands on your lap, slut. You don’t get to touch me.”

Erik slowly brought his hands to his pants and started unbuttoning them. Sienna watched with tentative eyes while her hands gripped her dress to keep from touching him. The slow sound of his zipper in that quiet room caused her to gasp. She looked up at him with a nibble of her bottom lip, her eyes begging him to whip it out. Erik took his time teasing her. He lifted his shirt to reveal his sculpted physique and with both hands he lowered his pants to rest just above his dick.

With her eyes she took in his v-cut, the buzz cut of his pubic hair, and then just a bit of his veiny brown shaft. Erik went to work taking off his shirt painfully slow. Muscles flexing without much effort, he lowered his pants at a snail's pace and then finally, that big dick sprang forward with a bounce and poked right out at Sienna’s wanton mouth. Erik gripped his veiny length with one hand and slowly fisted himself in Sienna’s face. Each time his hand would go in a downward tempo, his slit would open just a little. His balls were in his other hand and he massaged them.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re sobbing into the pillows with a beat up pussy, little mama, but first…”

Erik released his dick and crouched down to grab his chinos. Digging into one of the pockets, he revealed Sienna’s pink furry cuffs that she must have left at his place so they could use it whenever. Sienna turned around on the floor and brought her arms behind her back. Erik fastened the cuffs on her slender wrists and Sienna faced him again. Back in position, Erik had a slight grip on the base of his dick and he tapped his tip on Sienna’s lips.

“Worship this dick, Sienna. Respectfully. You know Daddy’s rules.”

Sienna didn’t need to be told twice. She started off by peppering kisses all over his dick from top to bottom.

“That’s it…kiss all over your daddy’s dick…give me all the sloppy kisses.” Erik commanded.

Sienna brought her lips to his balls and gave him sloppy kisses there. She dragged her lips up the underside of his dick and used her tongue to trail her spit up to his tip. With her lips she kissed his slit and moaned when his pre-cum coated her lips. Erik chuckled darkly at the sight of her.

“You’re such a pretty slut, Sienna. Slap it across your face…just like that…feel how heavy this dick is, girl?”

“Mmmm, yes, sir,” Sienna closed her eyes in true bliss when his third leg collided with her cheek. She had a firm grip on his dick and made sure that it covered every inch of her face. Saliva dripped from her mouth when she slapped the weight of him on her tongue.

“Thank me for letting you worship this dick.”

“Thank you so much, big daddy,” Sienna replied instantly.

“The only thing on your mind is gettin’ this dick. I already know that my princess pussy is wet.”

Erik licked his lips when Sienna took him into her mouth. She knew to keep her eyes on him while her mouth did unspeakable things that had his toes digging into the carpet. His low eyes watched her make love to his dick with her warm, wet mouth and tight throat. He couldn’t believe how much better she’d gotten with taking him down her throat. She twisted her lips length over and over over his length and each time it was glossier with her spit.

Erik’s eyes fluttered before he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and with one hand on the back of her neck he started face fucking Sienna. The gurgling sounds from her throat had his dick brick hard going in and out of her mouth. Looking up at him with those pretty eyes and wet lashes almost made him explode.

“You’re so fucking adorable with my dick in your mouth, princess,” Erik stroked her neck before continuing to pound her throat, “keep that mouth open just like that…uhuh…fuck…”

Sienna could feel hot tears trickle down her cheeks. The sound of her glucking and gagging grew louder and louder each time Erik’s dick hit the back of her throat. Her fingers trembled to grip his thighs but she was cuffed. His tight fist found its way into her hair again and his hips drew back. His big dick and a stream of spit similar to a snail's trail appeared from her mouth. Sienna stuck her tongue out and Erik slapped the weight of his heavy shaft on it.

In and out. In and out. He would press forward to the back of her throat and then he would retract his hips. Sienna couldn’t contain her squirming. She was practically chasing his dick and Erik laughed at her greediness.

“Look at you. Here,” Erik let go of his dick, “Make this dick cum, like a good little student.”

He was playing into that fantasy? Sienna was more than ready.

“Yes, Dr. Stevens,” Sienna lunged forward and with only her plump lips she sucked him into her mouth. Working only her jaw and her neck, she kept her eyes on him, confident in her dick sucking abilities.

“This is for all the times I have to correct you. How many fucking times do I have to tell you to follow my orders?” Erik barked out.

Erik had a tight jaw and penetrating eyes, but from the way his dick twitched in her, Sienna knew she had him right where she wanted him.

“I want you to remember how heavy this dick feels in the back of your throat. Memorize that just like you memorize those fucking notes…”

Erik couldn’t resist her tight mouth no matter how hard he tried. When Sienna swallowed him whole and tightened her throat around his shaft Erik released a long, quivering groan before a hefty load erupted from his sensitive tip.

“Fucccck, fucccck, mmmmmmm—”

His knees almost buckled but he kept his balance with a vice grip on Sienna’s hair. With a deep breath, she released his dick and more of his cum aimed for her cheek. She proceeded to lick him clean and then she fingered the cum from her cheek and sucked it off her digit.

“Mmm, so tasty. I want you to do that in my pussy now.”

“Oh yeah? All in that tight little pussy?”

Erik slapped the weight of his erection on Sienna’s tongue.

“You deserve to have your pussy ate for making me cum so hard…”

Erik grabbed Sienna by the chin gently and leaned forward to kiss her lips. She whimpered into his mouth when one of his hands grabbed a titty through the opening in the front of her dress. He twirled her nipple between his thumb and pointer finger while his tongue dragged across hers like a snail. Sienna broke the kiss and pressed her face into his taut abdomen.

“You smell so good…”

Erik picked Sienna up and undid the cuffs, putting them on again with her hands in front of her. He placed her on her back on the bed. Without a word, he spread her pliant thighs and pushed her knees back to her ears to expose her pussy. Wrists cuffed, Sienna watched as Erik exposed her breasts and with a couple slaps to them he dipped his head lower and started eating her pussy. Sienna squirmed beneath his tongue and lips. Erik had her body quaking from head to toe. He would suck her whole pussy into his mouth, drag his long tongue between her folds, nibble on her clit, and suck to his heart's desire.

“Daddy, yes! Eat that pussy!” Sienna shouted.

Erik responded with a slap to her ass.

“Right there! I’m gonna cum all over your face!”

Erik growled. He looked up at her and Sienna locked eyes with him. She watched him devour her and the uncontrollable shake of her thighs had Erik forcing them open.

“Huhhhh–uhhnnnnuh—”

Sienna was having an out of body experience. She couldn’t grab his head, she couldn’t push him away. She had no use but to lay there and take it. A warmth crept over her body and she felt as if she were paralyzed. The sound of his insistent slurping and her constant groans bounced off of the walls. Before Sienna could even prepare herself, she came into Erik's mouth. He used his tongue to clean up the mess that dripped down her ass and his lips to suck her clit to get more out of her.

“Sienna…my dick is damn near close to bussin’…”

Erik sat up on his knees to show her how stiff he is. Yes, he was close. The amount of pre cum leaking from his slit astounded her. If he would have gone any longer, he would have bust all over the sheets from eating her pussy alone.

“What’s daddy’s rule when it’s time to fuck?”

Sienna was still on an orgasmic high but she parted her trembling lips to speak as best as she could.

“No matter how sensitive my little pussy is, I have to give daddy what he wants. More pussy in any way he desires.”

“Good girl. Such a good little slut for me. It’s time for daddy to take his pussy, baby. And I’m gonna take that wet shit, hear me?”

Sienna responded with a pout and with no objections, Erik lined his dick up with her wet opening and sank inside swiftly. Sienna exhaled and instantly tensed up when Erik used the force of his hips to keep her thighs parted. Hands propped up on either side of her head, Erik dropped dick into her pussy with a harsh slap of skin. Erik’s chain hovered over her face back and forth like hypnosis.

“Daddy you’re so deep in your pussy!” Sienna cried out.

“You hear that pussy talking?” Erik asked with a tremble of his voice.

“Yessss…oh, fuck,” Sienna lifted her neck to see, “I love watching it go in and out.”

“You love watching it go in and out?” Erik repeated, his eyes looking from Sienna to his dick, “Keep watching this dick go in and out then.”

Erik pressed forward inside of her and held himself there just so he could feel her legs shake. Sienna threw her head back and moaned.

“Sienna…” Erik called out to her.

He went back to pounding her out with a stamina any other forty-six year old man wouldn’t have. He kept himself in the best shape not only because he’s getting older, but because he needed the energy for sex. Lack of energy in bed was a no for him.

“Little mama…look at the way I fuck you.”

Sienna dragged her eyes down to see his cream-coated stick drilling her pussy kat into the bed.

“Erik…Erik, I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t say it, do it.” Erik commands.

Sienna’s toes curled and she felt her entire body seize up. Erik kept that same stroke through her orgasm. When her body finally relaxed, Erik took off the cuffs and massaged her wrists. He slowed down and retracted his hips, bringing his lips to her pussy to lick up the mess he created.

“The amount of cum leaking from this pussy has daddy hungry for more, princess.”

He studied the way her clit poked out. How the wishbone shape of her inner folds sat puffy. How creamy and slick her opening looked. The mess that seeped to the crack of her juicy ass. He was mesmerized.

“Every time I fuck you…” Erik leans into Sienna’s face, “it feels like the first time I slid in…”

His dick sat heavy between her pussy lips while they French kissed. Erik’s tongue was covered in saliva and it tasted like her pussy.

“Does this mean I get a present for having the best pussy daddy’s ever had?” Sienna whispered seductively against Erik’s lips.

“I’ll give you whatever you want…”

Sienna nibbled on Erik’s pouty bottom lip between kisses.

“Oh yeah? What if I wanted a new car?”

Sienna reached down between them and grabbed Erik by the dick. She rubbed his wide tip between her folds and the sounds that her pussy made sent chills down Erik’s spine. He loved Sienna’s young pussy. The way it gripped him. The way it creamed all over him. How wet the crotch of her panties get from just one touch. How sweet it tasted.

“You want a new car?” Erik looked down at Sienna with desperate, hungry eyes, “what kind of car do you want?”

Sienna blinked twice rapidly. She pushed forward against Erik and sat up on her knees. Erik looked at her with a half smirk and an elevated brow.

“Are you serious?” Sienna questioned with absolute shock.

“Uh, yeah,” Erik shrugged his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I–I don’t know–it’s just a lot.”

“Sienna,” Erik tilted his head, “lil’ ‘mama…you know I love spoiling you. Why wouldn’t you think a car wasn’t a part of the equation?”

Sienna sat there with her mouth unhinged. Erik chuckled at her expression.

“What kind of car do you want?”

Sienna shook her head in disbelief. Erik’s eyes roamed up and down her frame. He planned on taking that pussy from the back next. Erik grabbed Sienna by the hips and turned her over. While she continued to have a look of surprise at his words, Erik arched her back deep and with his fingers sinking into her ass cheeks he plunged into her wet little hole and groaned.

“Daddy,” Sienna looked back at him with weepy eyes, “that dick is in my belly.”

Erik slow strokes her, savoring the sound of her wet hole gliding over his girth with a grip that had his nuts tight.

“Tell daddy what car you want, baby girl.”

I…” Sienna shut her eyes, “I want a pink Benz…”

“The truck or the sedan?”

Erik had one hand on her waist and the other grabbed her diamond-wrapped ankle. He pushed all ten inches forward into her eager pussy.

“The sedannnnn, oh my gosh,” Sienna brought her French-tip fingers down to rub her clit, “I’m so wet.”

She was indeed. A stream of sticky arousal dripped from her pussy and to the bed.

“Good girl…you know daddy loves it when you leak all over me like that…gives me more slip to bust this shit open…”

Erik picked up speed and now Sienna’s cheeks were clapping.

“Keep that arch! Keep that back arched, Sienna! That’s it…right in that pussy…all in that pussy…”

“Yes!”

Sienna pushed at Erik’s abs while convulsions coursed through her body. Erik popped her on the ass and continued thrusting his dick in and out of her.

“Ima cum in my pussy!” Erik groaned, “Fuck—”

His deep moans had Sienna’s walls squeezing his rock hard dick. She milked him and when he pulled out, some of his cum oozed from her opening. Erik collapses on the bed and Sienna rests her head on his chest. She stroked his nipple while kissing his side.

“You wanna get out of here so we can go back to your place and fuck some more?” Sienna asked.

“Hell yeah. Anything for my princess.” Erik responded.

___

It’s been several months of bliss for Sienna and Dr. Stevens. Neither one of them would admit it, but deeper feelings have gotten involved. Sienna was afraid to make it known that she wanted to be more than just Erik’s sugar baby, and Erik wanted to make Sienna his official woman no matter what people would think.

He knew well enough that dating a woman twenty years younger than him would turn heads. The only thing that worried him was Sienna’s feelings. Would she actually want to have a real relationship with him? He’d never felt this alive with a woman in his life. It wasn’t because of their age differences. Sienna listened to him. She made him laugh and smile. They were twin flames. Every time they kissed, had sex, looked at each other, and touched each other, it set off fireworks.

It was so scary but so amazing. He wasted his time marrying two women when he could have waited for Sienna to pop up in his life. If she hadn’t done clinicals where he worked, if he would have never gone to that Gentleman’s Club, he would have never met Sienna. He looked forward to spending time with her. She’s a horny, lascivious young woman so sex would always be a thing between them, but to spend time on his couch with R&B music on in the background and glasses of Shiraz in their hands was enough to satisfy him.

Sienna had found her soulmate in Erik. What went from enemies in that OR to this whirlwind romance is what shocked her. She got to see the man outside of his surgical gear and what a beautiful man he is. The true definition of tall, dark, and handsome. The more time has passed, the harder it gets to be around him and calm her racing heart. He was made for her. She didn’t care what anybody thought. Sienna wanted to live in that man’s skin. If she could pack that dick up and take it home with her she would. Sitting and staring at his handsome face and listening to his voice was her second favorite thing to do.

Sienna often listened to his voicemails just so she could cum to the sound of his voice.

Hey, baby girl. Just calling to see how you were doing. Call me back when you’re free…

Sienna, this is daddy. Let me know how you did on the exam. You got this, baby…

I miss you. Call me…

Are you ignoring my calls? Should I come over there and give you something to cry about? Huh? Pick up the phone, Sienna…

I just wanted to thank you for this weekend. I’m gonna miss that pretty face and pussy all week…

Sienna was sitting on money and gifts galore and her absolute favorite is the early graduation present. He bought her a pink Mercedes Benz with a custom interior and she was so excited that he had to calm her down. One thing about Erik, he was a man of his word. Sienna never had to doubt anything he said.

It was her final week of clinicals. Sienna was preparing to take her NCLEX before graduation so she could already be secured in a nursing job. With her connections at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center, and multiple recommendation letters—of course one from Dr. Stevens himself—would sure enough land her a job.

She was nervous. Her nursing class had gotten smaller, her teachers were cracking down harder, her study sessions were longer, and that meant less time spent with her daddy. It will all pay off in the end she had to remind herself. But two weeks without any physical contact with Erik except for quick kisses in between breaks was killing her.

Sienna had changed into her surgical scrubs and grabbed her things. Selena had already left the locker room. Sienna opened the door and rushed out into the hall only to slip on the freshly mopped floor and fall on her left ankle. Her school supplies and lunch bag were scattered on the floor in front of her. Throbbing pain traveled up her leg. She could feel her ankle swelling the more she moved to try and stand.

Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, Sienna pushed herself up and braced her hands against the wall. Up ahead, Nurse Kizzy was walking down the hall and when she spotted Sienna she took longer strides to get to her.

“Sienna? What happened?”

“My ankle,” Sienna tried moving it, “I think I may have sprained it or something.”

“Here,” Kizzy wrapped one arm around Sienna’s waist and brought Sienna’s arm up to drape over her shoulder, “Hold onto me and we’ll take slow steps towards the nursing station. From there we’ll get you a wheelchair.”

“Okay,” Sienna looked back at her things, “My stuff.”

“I’ll come back for it.” Kizzy reassured her.

They walked slowly until they were right at the entrance to the main area. Selena and two of her other classmates looked up and noticed Sienna limping. Others took notice and walked over to examine her.

“Get her in a chair! We’ll take her to a room and get her on a bed,” Lori shouted, “Jesus, Sienna, what happened?”

“I was leaving the locker room and slipped on the wet floor.” Sienna said.

“Was there a wet floor sign at all?” Lori questioned.

“I don’t think so—OUCH!”

A wheelchair touched the back of Sienna’s legs and she was gently lowered down. They placed her feet on the footrests and Lori wheeled her to a room. Once there, they used proper lifting and transferring mechanics to get Sienna up on a stretcher. Selena was on her right side and she watched Lori undo Sienna’s all white HOKA shoe. Sienna hissed and grabbed onto the sides of the bed. Lori carefully removed her sock and instantly she could see that the lateral side of her ankle and foot was bruised and swollen.

“Dr. Stevens! Thanks for coming—”

Sienna’s eyes shot up and Erik rushed inside damn near pushing past everyone. He was wearing ceil-colored scrubs that fit him deliciously. His shoulder-length locs were pulled back into a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck and his glasses were on his face. He must have been in his office.

“What happened?” Erik looked up at Sienna with concerned eyes.

“She slipped,” Selena spoke for her, “The hallway outside of the locker room was freshly mopped.”

Erik nodded his head faintly and cut his eyes to Sienna, “I asked her. What happened?”

Selena frowned slightly at his remark.

“I slipped in the hallway outside of the locker room. When I went down, I landed on the side of my foot and ankle.” Sienna replied.

Erik stepped in front of Lori and he took a seat at the edge of the bed. The room was overcrowded and everyone watched as Dr. Stevens took Sienna’s bare foot in his grasp. He inspected her foot and noticed straight away that it was dislocated. He glanced up at Sienna and he had this sorry look in his eyes.

“Sienna, I’m sorry, but it’s most likely dislocated with possible subluxation. We need an X-ray. NOW.”

He started applying pressure to areas and Sienna couldn’t hold back tears. Selena watched the entire thing with a skeptical gaze. It appeared way too intimate for her.

“Instead of standing around, why don’t one of you get something to prop her foot up! A pillow? A pile of blankets?” Erik barked out.

“Sienna, I need your ID and insurance, honey,” Lori said before leaving the room.

“It’s in my wallet in the front pocket of my backpack.”

Lori rushed to retrieve it. Selena remained in the room. Erik gently lifted her foot and Selena placed several pillows beneath it. Sienna felt instant relief.

“It’s gonna be okay. You alright?” Erik asked.

“No. It hurts like hell.” Sienna replied.

Selena watched closely as Erik’s thumb stroked Sienna’s foot. She caught his eyes and he drew his hand back quickly.

“X-ray is here…”

Erik stood up and motioned towards Selena to leave the room. They exited the room and closed the curtain halfway behind them. The X-ray tech named Samantha started setting up for the X-ray. Erik stood a safe distance away to avoid radiation. Sienna did not like the positions she had to put her ankle and foot in, but it had to be done. When the X-ray tech was finished, Erik rushed over to examine the images before the tech sent them for reading by the radiologist.

“Girl, I can’t believe this happened.”

Selena was back inside with her arms folded. Sienna looked up at her friend and she could tell that she was pissed about something.

“Me neither. This was not on my bingo card…I don’t need this shit, especially since it’s my last week of clinical…”

“I’m sure you’ll be home now after this. I’m actually a little jealous,” Selena gave Sienna a teasing smile, “Anyways, what’s up with Dr. Stevens?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not notice how weird he was acting?”

Sienna tried to play off Selena’s question by moaning in pain. That caught Erik’s attention, because he was back inside.

“So, it’s not broken, which is good news. The bad news is that it is dislocated. So, I’ll have to put it back in place…”

Sienna visibly blanched.

“I’m sorry, Sienna. Lori, stabilize her upper leg…”

Selena left the room and watched from the hall.

“I need counter traction…”

Sienna exhaled harshly. She tried to brace herself but the pain was too much. Erik grasped the heel of her foot with one hand, her dorsal metatarsals with the other. He slightly plantar-flexed Sienna’s foot and that’s when she screamed in agony.

“Breathe…we’re almost done…you got this…I need another assistant!”

Kizzy rushed in and Erik instructed her to apply downward pressure on Sienna’s lower leg.

“Ready? One…two…three…”

Erik pulled forward on her foot in one motion.

Pop!

Sienna shouted.

“All done! All done! You did great, Sienna…get her something for pain and some water please…”

Past her blurry vision flooded with tears, she could see Erik staring down at her with emotion. Sienna knew that he wanted to pull her into his embrace and comfort her.

“Okay, Sienna, We’re going to wait for the radiologist's interpretation of the post reduction images. If it reads negative for a fracture, we’ll get you splinted and send you home with some crutches and a walking-boot. You’ll need to follow up with me within a week and I also recommend some physical therapy until you’re able to bear weight…”

Sienna hung onto his every word. His voice…

“Send in xray to take post-reduction films.”

Lori, Kizzy, and Erik left the room and Samantha came into the room again with the portable X-ray machine. This time around, Sienna’s ankle felt a lot better. She was able to move it on her own. Erik walked back in and looked over the images carefully. He pressed buttons that flipped through the images, magnified specific areas, and changed the images to negative.

“Do a mortise view…”

Samantha shot one more X-ray and Erik was back in. He did one final thorough look over before nodding his head with approval.

“Okay…looks good to me…go ahead and send it. Thanks.”

Samantha left the room and Erik stood over Sienna.

“It’s back in place, Sienna. You did good…real good…was there a wet floor sign?”

“I don’t remember seeing one…”

Erik’s jaw tightened, “They have one fucking job and can’t even put down a sign…I’m gonna find out who’s working this floor today…”

He caressed Sienna’s knee and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the forehead since the coast was clear.

“I’ll be back. You’re not driving with that injury, Sienna—”

“Erik,” Sienna peeked around him to make sure no one was lingering, “I’ll be fine. It’s my left ankle not my right. I don’t want to leave my car here.”

Erik wasn’t feeling it but he nodded his head in agreement anyway.

“Fine. But I’m staying with you. I want to take care of you.”

Erik created some distance between them when Lori entered the room.

“Okay?” Erik questioned, changing the tone of his voice to appear more professional.

“Okay, Dr. Stevens. Thank you.” Sienna said.

___

Sienna struggled to open her apartment door a few hours after her injury. She was given a referral to see a physiotherapist the next day and she just knew that her ankle wouldn’t be the same for at least a month. Apparently, she sprained her ankle as well. She was very happy that she hadn't fractured it. With her door finally opened, Sienna used her crutches to enter her apartment. She managed to shut and lock her door while balancing on her crutches.

She took off her book bag and sat her lunch bag on her living room table. Sienna flopped down on her sofa and looked down at her splinted ankle. At least her toes looked nice. She noticed it had begun to rain outside. This wasn’t part of the plan. Sienna screwed up her face and sucked her teeth. Erik spending the rest of the week with her sounded lovely, but there was no way she was going to be able to get as nasty as she wanted to with him.

Sienna couldn’t deny that his serious demeanor and strictness turned her on. He deserved to have his dick ate up when he got there. After some time, Sienna went inside of her backpack to retrieve her personal items and she was back on her good foot with the crutches for balance. In her bedroom now, Sienna propped her crutches up against a wall and sat her things on the bed. She sat down to remove her clothes except for her underwear and she slipped on a nightgown.

Sienna scrolled through her text messages and read ones from Selena and Erik.

Selena: Hope you made it home safely! Let me know 💕

Sienna texted her back and then she went on to respond to Erik.

Dr. Daddy 🍆💦💞: I am on my way to you. I have my bags packed and ready to take care of my favorite girl.

Sienna blushed.

I’m in bed right now waiting for you.

Sienna was exhausted, all that crying and pain and moving around on an injured foot wore her out. She snuggled her face into her pillow and sleep hit her so fast she didn’t see it coming.

An hour had gone by and Erik used a spare key Sienna gave him to open the apartment door. He’s dressed in a matching gray hoodie set with white A 1s. His locs are down and framing his handsome face. Erik lugged his two bags into the living room for now and took off his shoes. Smoothing his locs back from his face, Erik walked to Sienna’s bedroom and found her snoring into her pillow. He chuckled and pressed his shoulder against the doorway. It’s true that pretty girls do snore.

Erik noticed how messy her room is. All of her studies caught up with her and she hadn’t been able to keep things in order. While she slept, Erik took off his hoodie, only a white beater underneath, and started tidying up. He picked up clothes, tossed them in her overflowing hamper. He cleared away unused books and straightened up her vanity. Entering her bathroom, Erik wasn’t shocked to find her dildos in various colors suctioned to her sink; he found some all purpose cleaner beneath her sink and started cleaning.

It took him thirty minutes to finish. He was in her kitchen now washing dishes after cleaning there. Erik opened her fridge and it was filled with food so he figured he could cook some dinner. He found some salmon fillets, broccolini, and she had potatoes. He took the hair tie from around his wrist and pulled his hair back, one loc falling in his face.

He went to work boiling the red potatoes and cleaned the salmon and broccolini. Erik moved around the kitchen like it was his place. Well, he did pay bills there now. No other Sugar Daddy did it like Erik. He made sure Sienna didn’t have to lift a finger. Plus, he liked the idea of showing up to her place when she’d least expect it and crawl into her bed to give her some late night nooky. With everything finished, Erik tossed a kitchen towel over his shoulder while making a cream sauce to drizzle over the salmon and mashed potatoes.

Erik plated the food like he was a chef before leaving the kitchen to wake Sienna. He tiptoed over to her and kissed her warm, brown cheek. Sienna stirred awake and when she opened her eyes and noticed Erik smiling at her she returned the smile.

“Daddy.” Sienna spoke softly.

“Little mama,” Erik kissed her lips, “I made dinner.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Sit up for me.”

Sienna rolled over onto her back and stretched her arms above her head. Erik’s eyes admired the night gown she was wearing. It was mini, white, and floral print with a v-neck, spaghetti straps, and a split. Her breasts had fallen out of the top of her nightgown and before she could fix herself, Erik’s lips were sucking on her nipples.

“They’re always so hard when I wake up…mmm,” Sienna arched her back into his mouth.

Erik palmed both of her breasts and squeezed them gently. Sienna’s eyes fell to his crotch and she could see his sizable print. She reached out a hand and stroked his length. His lips, teeth, and tongue attacked her breasts. He wanted her so bad. With a deep grunt, Erik reluctantly peeled away from her.

“Sienna, come on,” Erik fixed her nightgown, “I’ll help you up.”

Pouting, Sienna sat up and Erik grabbed the crutches. She placed them beneath her arms and almost tripped. Erik held her by the waist with firm hands and he gave her a disapproving look.

“Did you listen to any of my instructions on how to use these?” Erik lectured.

“I did…it’s hard to walk with these.” Sienna replied with a whiny voice.

“Don’t lean forward like that. Is that what you were doing?”

“Yes,” Sienna steadied herself, “like this?”

“Yes. Let me see,” Erik took one of the crutches to check the height, “it’s correct. Bend your elbows slightly. You got it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Erik walked behind Sienna with his hands out to catch her if she stumbled. They made it out towards her dining room and Erik pulled her chair out. Sienna placed both crutches in one hand and reached for the arm of the chair while lowering herself slowly. Erik took the crutches and propped them against a wall before sitting diagonally to her.

“This smells so good,” Sienna picked up her fork, “And did you clean up?”

She looked up at Erik with her head cocked to the side and pursed lips. Erik simply chuckled at her.

“Erik, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you for everything.”

“No problem. I wanted to,” Erik grabbed his glass of wine that he’d poured for them, “I know how much you’ve been reviewing and finishing up with school. You’ve got a lot going on.”

Sienna looked over at Erik and gave him a warm smile.

“How’s the salmon?” Erik asked.

“It’s delicious.”

They sat and ate their food and when they both finished, Erik cleared the table. He returned and helped Sienna up and handed her the crutches.

“Alright. Bath time. Then I want you to study for at least an hour.”

Sienna wanted to fuss about studying, but at least she had a bath to look forward to. Erik had given her baths before. They both made their way towards the bathroom in her room and Erik helped Sienna take off her nightgown and panties. He ran the bath water and added some rose scented bath salts with aromatherapy vanilla scented bubble bath. He found her soap, body scrub, and loofah and when the water had filled he helped Sienna into the tub. Erik secured her braided hair up into a bun so it wouldn’t get wet.

Her splinted foot dangled over the edge of the tub while Erik used the loofah and soap to clean her back first. Sienna leaned forward and gripped the edge of the tub. Erik scrubbed her neck, chest, and stomach. When he started to do her left leg, he was careful not to get the splint wet.

“You okay?” Erik checked in on Sienna.

“Yes. I feel relaxed.”

After cleaning her right leg, Erik switched out for a wash rag to clean her privates.

“I gotta get down there, little mama…”

Sienna spread her legs and rolled her eyes.

“What?” Erik paused.

“I’m horny.”

Erik elevated a brow.

“Spread your legs.”

Sienna did as she was told and Erik cleaned her vagina and ass. Sienna whimpered in his ear and it was her way of telling him that she wanted her daddy to make her cum.

“Why can’t you make me cum, daddy?” Sienna whined.

“Because you need to study.”

“I can study tomorrow. I just want you to make me feel good. It’s been two weeks…”

Erik knew that. He knew it had been too long since he’d been snug between her walls.

“Baby girl, you have an important exam coming up that determines your future as a nurse. I need you to study for at least an hour. If you can do that for me, I’ll fuck you, okay?”

“Whatever,” Sienna turned her eyes away from Erik and looked heavenward.

“Whatever? How about I don’t fuck you?”

Sienna turned her eyes towards Erik and the look on his face was enough to make her listen. For now.

“Okay. I’ll study for an hour.”

“Yes, you will.” Erik replied.

Erik drained the tub and instructed for Sienna to lift herself up to the edge of the tub. He swung her legs around and picked her up. He wrapped a towel around her and walked her out towards the bedroom.

___

“A 15-month-old toddler who weighs 26 pounds is admitted to the pediatric unit, due to severe dehydration…”

Sienna was currently being rubbed down with shea butter. He finished her right foot and then he found a clean nightgown for her to wear. It was a lilac color with the same style as the previous one she wore. When he finished, Erik excused himself to take a shower. He left the door cracked and Sienna paused her studying.

She sat up and spread her thighs. Staring down at her waxed pussy, Sienna brought her fingers down to rub her clit. She couldn’t help herself. The way Erik cared for her made her crave sex even more. She wanted to be fucked into the mattress. She brought her fingers to her mouth to suck on and they were back on her clit. Her eyes were glued on the bathroom door. She could hear him in the shower.

The only way she would be able to cum quickly was if she used her vibrator. Sienna looked around her room until she spotted one of her favorite vibrators on her nightstand. It was on the charger and ready for use. She grabbed the hot pink wand and turned it on the lowest setting first. She would have loved to see his naked body covered in soap suds and water but then he would know what she was doing.

Sienna maneuvered her body as best as she could and then she brought her knees to her chest. Vibrator to clit, Sienna moaned as quietly as she could. She would alternate between looking at the door and staring at her clit being pleasured. She could see her creamy, wetness leak from her opening.

“Unhh—”

She grabbed a pillow to bite on.

Her thighs shook out of control. Thank goodness her ankle was splinted because if it wasn’t she would have dislocated it again. She kept one ear towards the door and she could still hear the water running. Sienna increased the vibrations two notches and she almost bit a hole into the pillow.

“Mm! Mmm! Mmm!”

She shut her thighs tightly and rolled over onto her side. That vibrator sat between her drenched lips as she climaxed. Sienna was sure that she was going to squirt. She turned the vibrator off quickly and scooted over to her nightstand to put it back on the charger. She fixed her nightgown and went back to lay on her stomach.

Five minutes later, Erik had opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“…The health care provider ( HCP) prescribes an intravenous (IV) bolus of 0.9% Sodium Chloride 25mL/kg to be infused over two hours. What IV rate (mL/hr) will the nurse need to set the infusion pump?”

Sienna tapped her nails on her practice book in thought.

“Convert the weight into kilograms…so 26 pounds divided by 2.2 equals 11.8 kg…”

Sienna heard the towel drop and her eyes slowly landed on Erik. He was standing at her mirror applying shea butter to his body. Sienna watched him with her mouth hanging open. Erik noticed she had stopped and caught her staring at him through the mirror.

“What are you supposed to be doing?”

Sienna went back to studying.

“Round to 12 kg. Total IV infused is 12 times 25…300 mL. Hourly rate is 300 mL in two hours…so 300 divided by 2 which is 150 mL/hr.”

Sienna circled the correct answer and moved on to the next question.

Erik had dressed himself in a pair of briefs and sleep pants. Shirtless, he left the room to grab some more wine for them. When he returned, he placed Sienna’s glass on the table next to her and he made himself comfortable on the other side of her. He sat with his back against the headboard, sipping from his wine glass.

“Want me to read the questions?”

“Please,” Sienna handed him the book.

Erik sat the book in his lap and grabbed his glasses. He placed his wine down and with her pencil twirling in his right hand and his left hand rubbing on her booty, he read the next question.

“A client with increased intracranial pressure from a brain tumor is admitted to Neuro ICU. The health care provider (HCP) prescribes 25% mannitol 20 gram intravenous (IV) bolus…”

Sienna nibbled on her bottom lip. She tried to pay attention but Erik’s fingers rubbing on her ass felt so good. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He looked so sexy with his glasses on and his shirt off.

“The unit stock is mannitol injection,” Erik glanced at her to make sure she was paying attention, “…In 50 mL water single-dose vials. How many mL will the nurse draw up?”

“Uhm,” Sienna pondered, “So I have to calculate the mL again…”

She grabbed her calculator.

“What is 12.5 grams in mL, lil’ mama?”

“50 mL.”

“Okay…and mL equals what?”

“20 grams.”

“Okay. So 20 times 50 mL divided by 12.5?”

Sienna calculates.

“80 mL.”

“Okay. So, what’s the answer?”

“80 mL.”

“Good girl,” Erik smiled at her and slapped her butt, “You’re gonna pass that NCLEX, baby.”

Erik leaned down and pressed his plump lips against Sienna’s.

“Do I have to keep studying?”

“That hour ain’t up, baby girl.”

Sienna exhaled and Erik moved onto the next question.

“The health care provider (HCP) prescribes 5 mg ephedrine IV push—”

“The answer is 1 mL. I’ve seen that question before.”

Erik elevated a brow, “Well, let’s move on then…”

He flipped the page and his hand was back on her ass. They did harder questions within that category to challenge her since she was breezing through the other ones so easily. Sienna started moving her hips so that her butt would rub against Erik’s hand. He cut his eyes at her but she acted as if she hadn’t noticed him looking.

“When a client in the cardiac care unit develops a ventricular arrhythmia, the health care provider (HCP) prescribes a continuous intravenous (IV) infusion of lidocaine at 3 mg/min. Pharmacy prepares 2 grams of lidocaine in a 500 mL bag 5% dextrose in water (D5W). How many mL/hr will the client receive?”

Sienna had carefully rolled over onto her back and placed her body in an upright position. She brought her right knee up while her left leg remained straight. She grabbed her calculator and started calculating on her own while Erik waited.

“Too many conversations…it’s 45 mL/hr. Now, what do I get in return?”

“A kiss,” Erik’s lips touched hers and he gave her some tongue, “Let’s do two more and then we can call it a night.”

Sienna couldn’t keep still. She grabbed her wine glass and sipped while bringing her right knee up causing her pussy to become exposed. She didn’t care if he noticed that she made herself cum while he was in the shower.

“Let’s do some questions from psychosocial…okay…A client with bipolar disorder, manic phase, says to the nurse, hey, beautiful! You’re sure looking pretty today. Which is the nurse's best response?”

“I’m so-and-so, the nurse for this shift.” Sienna replied.

“Good.” Erik circled the answer.

“I wonder if they have questions in there about fucking sexy surgeons…”

Erik turned his eyes onto Sienna and he looked down at her pussy. His eyes narrowed slightly and he tightened his jaw. He looked up at her and Sienna held his gaze with a look of confusion.

“…Did you make yourself cum?”

Sienna inspected her nails, “Maybe I did.”

“Sienna,” Erik placed the pencil between the pages of the book and sat the book down on the nightstand, “Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”

“Technically, no,” Sienna took a sip of wine, “You said that you weren’t going to fuck me until I finished studying. You never said not to make myself cum.”

He was silent. He knew she was right.

“Are you mad at me, daddy?”

“No. Because you’re right. I never said that you couldn’t make yourself cum. Did you use your fingers or a toy?”

“My wand,” Sienna pointed to it.

She nibbled on an acrylic nail with this innocent look in her eyes while her pussy was on display and wet. Erik shut his eyes and chuckled slightly with a shake of his head.

“…You nasty girl.”

He stood up from the bed and walked around to her side. Erik grabbed the wand and noticed some of her cum on it. He gave her a sly smirk before walking up to her.

“Since you can’t help but to be a nasty little slut, I’m going to use this vibrator on your clit on the highest setting. If you cum before I tell you to, you’re only getting the tip of this dick and nothing else.”

Erik turned on the vibratior and instructed for Sienna to spread her legs. She was still in an upright position. Erik got closer to her and pressed the wand against her clit. She gasped, eyes shutting and head falling back against the headboard.

“No, eyes open, Sienna. I want you to watch the way this vibrator makes that slutty pussy cum. I already know you’re gonna cum. Look at you, pussy leaking…that pretty pink pussy wants some dick?”

Erik strokes her braids from her face and shoves his thumb into her mouth for her to suck on.

“Imagine how it would have been like to fuck me with all this dick in that puss after two weeks…”

His thumb glided across her tongue and down her chin.

“Unh, daddy, Unh, daddy, I’m sorry!”

“Too late for all that,” Erik rubbed Sienna’s stiff clit with the wand back and forth, “That pussy is wet…look at that shit.”

Sienna dragged her eyes down and whimpered. She writhed on the bed, trying her best not to cum.

“Mhm…don’t you wanna cum, princess?” Erik teased.

She was clenching around nothing and throbbing. To see her pussy react to the vibrator was breathtaking. Erik’s dick created a tent in his sweats. He couldn’t believe how hard he was. So hard that he was poking. It was deliciously painful.

“DADDY!”

Just as he thought. Sienna was a squirting mess. All over the bed. He turned that vibrator off and placed it on the nightstand. Sienna was trying to catch her breath while lying in a puddle of juices. She watched Erik with low eyes as he undressed. Sienna couldn’t believe how hard he was. That dick is covered in bulging veins and his mushroom tip is a deep purple from how stiff he is. Sienna couldn’t begin to describe the way his balls sat tight and full of cum between his muscular thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” Sienna tried sitting up, “Daddy, I’m so sorry…please…I’m so sorry, daddy. I’ll behave. I promise I’ll be a good girl,” Sienna furrowed her brows as she pleaded for Erik to give her more than the tip, “I’ll listen, I’ll do whatever you say, daddy. Please fuck me all the way…please…”

Her begging made his dick leak pre-cum. The sorry look in her eyes. The desperation in her voice. She was fiening. Erik ignored her and positioned himself between her legs. He made sure her ankle was out of the way. Erik tilted her hips at an angle towards the left and pushed her right leg as far back as it could go until her knee touched her chin. He groaned at the way her pussy sat wide open for him.

Erik had his dick in his other hand and he started stroking her clit with the head of his dick. The creamy noise of his head brushing against her clit and lips was music to his ears, dragging a deep moan from his mouth. Sienna laid there with doe eyes and a quiver in her lip.

“Keep looking at me like that, baby girl. I like that expression on your face. You think daddy wants to do it this way? You have to listen, baby girl…”

Erik pushes his tip into her waiting hole and it sucked in with the help of her walls. Sienna expects him to push further in, but instead he pulls out to the point where they are barely connected.

“Daddy—?”

Sienna was interrupted by her own mewling when Erik’s tip was back in her pussy. The smile he gave her was devilish, shaking his head the slightest bit and biting his lip while he continues the slow fucking of his tip.

Sienna cries out. It was such torture for her. Whenever his tip would sink past her quivering hole, the anticipation for more would soon be severed whenever he pulled out. She tried to move her hips to fuck him back. Erik wasn’t having it.

Erik tutted disapprovingly, “I know what you’re trying to do, Sienna. It’s not gonna work…”

He sees through her instantly, his large hand pushing on her lower stomach to halt her movements while the other pinned her right thigh down and held it in place. The muscles of his arms flex from the force he applied to keep her still, and he moans out when he feels her clench around him from his dominance. The way she feels on his tip is driving him insane. Erik is breathing heavily, moaning, and his eyes are half-lidded.

Erik’s thumb flicks at Sienna’s clit and she squeals in ecstasy. He could feel her leg beginning to tense within his grip and he tried desperately to make her cum first but he was so close.

“Sienna, daddy’s gonna bust…”

“Yes…yes…”

“So fucking wet…”

“Cum in my pussy, daddy.”

“Oh, shit…fuck.”

“You love my tight, little pussy, daddy?”

“Ahhhh—”

“I’m cumming!”

Erik pulled his tip out and instead jerked himself with three quick pumps and his thick cum spurted from his tip and painted Sienna’s lips. It was so much that it slowly dripped down to the crack of her ass. Erik’s low eyes followed the lazy path his milky-white cum took. It was such a beautiful color against her brown skin. Sienna made her hole wink at him, tempting him to sink back inside and fuck her for real this time. Erik grunted, using the tip of his dick to push his cum inside of her pussy. It made a wet pop each time he would pull out.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

“Can’t let it go to waste.”

Sienna gathered some of his cum on her fingers and sucked it off. Erik climbed off of the bed to grab a wet rag to wipe her off. When he returned, Sienna was looking up at him expectantly. Erik cleaned her off and after putting the rag in her hamper, he shut off the lights and turned on the TV. They snuggled together while drinking their wine and watching a movie.

Sienna finished her wine and rolled over onto her side, pushing her ass against Erik’s dick. Erik stilled her hips with a firm grip and brought his lips to the shell of her ear.

“Do that again, and you really won’t get this dick.”

She wanted to cry.

“But—”

“Brats don’t get what they want whenever they want.” He reminded her.

___

Erik paced the waiting room of the physical therapy office. He didn’t feel like sitting still and forcing himself to watch the news. It had been an hour since Sienna was escorted back to see the doctor. She had already contacted her nursing program and they gave her an excuse for the remainder of the week from clinicals. She still had to be to school for her review lectures but her and Erik had already formulated a plan for that.

Erik was going to drop her off at school for the rest of the week and pick her up. He already moved his schedule around to fit into hers. He had three cases total that week. One on Wednesday, and two on Thursday. All were scheduled for the following week. He would remain on call if needed and Sienna assured him that if he couldn’t take her to school, she would be okay.

Erik could hear a pair of crutches and his eyes darted to his right. Sienna was guided back out by a physical therapist. They were talking closely and laughing. Erik noticed a folder in the therapist’s hand that most likely belonged to Sienna.

“We’ll start rehabilitation when your doctor gives you the go to remove your splint. Remember that there are exercises you can do at home in this folder. Dr. Zeal wants you to try and do physical therapy for about three days a week…”

Sienna’s eyes fell on Erik and she gave him a reassuring smile. He returned the smile and greeted the therapist.

“Hi, are you her significant other…?”

“Yes,” Erik said confidently, “I’m also her orthopedic doctor.”

“Wow! That’s great then! You’ll be a good help for her. When can she remove the splint?”

“In two days. She should be able to maneuver better by then.”

“Perfect. Well, we’ll see you soon, Miss Thomas. Take care!”

“Thanks again.”

Sienna and Erik left to the parking lot and Erik made sure she got into the car safely. They drove back to the apartment and Sienna couldn’t stop smiling and blushing. She tried to hide it by staring out of the window, but Erik caught her.

“Why are you blushing?” Erik asked with a smirk.

“She asked if you were my significant other…”

A smile plastered on his face.

“I did, didn’t I? I don’t know…it just came out.”

“Mhm,” Sienna gave him a knowing smile.

“What?” Erik glanced at her.

“Nothing,” Sienna shifted her hips to face him, “Sienna Stevens…”

Erik’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He rolled his lips shut but those dimples were deep in his cheeks.

“Has a nice ring to it,” She joked, “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll make you lunch when we get back.”

They arrived at the apartment and Erik helped Sienna out of the car. Erik held the door open so she could go inside. They rode the elevators up to her floor and when they got off Erik opened the door, holding it so Sienna could go in first.

“Go change into something more comfortable while I make you some lunch. A salad with leftover salmon from last night sounds okay?”

“Yes! Thank you, daddy!”

“You’re welcome, beautiful.”

Erik is in the kitchen and he washes his hands thoroughly before opening Sienna’s fridge to grab some red and green tomatoes, Romaine lettuce, red onions, and the leftover salmon. He found some Italian vinaigrette and Parmesan cheese so he could toss the salad in it. He also managed to discover some garlic herb croutons as well that hadn’t been opened.

Erik opened a few drawers until he found a miscellaneous one with a pair of scissors. He went to grab the scissors that were tucked beneath a pile of unopened mail and a Polaroid picture caught his eye. His forehead puckered as he retrieved the picture. Erik’s eyebrows raised as he studied the picture closely.

Sienna was naked and lying on a bed covered in black silk sheets. She was positioned on her back with her legs spread open and her pussy on display. She had a bright smile on her face with her eyes tightly shut. Erik read the words written in ink at the bottom of the Polaroid.

Zane’s nasty little slut 2.14.2021

Erik noticed two more pictures and inspected those as well. The second photo, Sienna was looking up into the camera with a man’s dick in her mouth. That same look on her face is the same look she gave Erik when she was on her knees for him.

My throat goat :) 2.14.2021

Lastly, Sienna’s back is arched in the next photo and she’s receiving back-shots.

I love my bitch <3 2.14.21

“I’m changed!—”

Erik put the photos back speedily and shut the drawer when Sienna walked in. She was wearing an oversized graphic T-shirt that fit her loosely. He could tell she had no bra underneath and he was sure no panties as well. She beamed at him with that cute smile and then her eyes traveled down to the scissors in his left hand. Her smile slowly faded from her lush lips.

“I needed to cut open the croutons. I’m almost finished.”

Erik sized her up before turning his back to her to grab some plates. He figured they could eat the salmon cold on top of the salad.

“Need some help?”

Sienna startled Erik with her hands smoothing up his back. Erik craned his neck to look behind him and down at her short frame.

“No, little mama. Go sit your pretty self down.”

She turned and that’s when Erik noticed she wasn’t walking with crutches.

“Where are your crutches, Sienna?”

“Oh shit,” She looked up at him timidly, “I’m okay.”

Erik shook his head at her, “Go sit down.”

Erik walked away to grab her crutches. While he was gone, Sienna quickly scooted over to the drawer and opened it. She noticed that the photos were there and her stomach dropped. He’d seen them. She shut the drawer silently and went back to sit at her dining table. Erik walked out and she put on a smile. He plated the food and was back in the dining room. Sienna watched him closely as he made his way around the kitchen, grabbing bottled water for them to drink. She could tell he was thinking about it.

“Thank you.”

Erik smirked at her and picked up his butter knife and fork to cut up his salmon. The silence between them was killing her. Sienna sat her utensils down and folded her hands in her lap. She exhaled before looking over at Erik. His onyx eyes lifted to stare at her.

“His name was Zane. He’s my ex.”

She didn’t know why but she felt that she needed to clear that up. Erik simply sat there, eyes blinking at her as she spoke.

“We broke up because I got accepted into nursing school here and he didn’t want me to leave Texas…”

Sienna’s eyes fell to her lap. Erik watched her with a penetrating stare for a moment before he pulled his gaze away to his plate.

“I do miss him, but I’m over that…”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sienna.”

She looked up at him.

“Are you upset?”

Erik didn’t know how to answer that. Truthfully, Sienna didn’t belong to him. She could fuck and suck on whoever she wanted. But, Erik couldn’t deny that he felt jealous. This young man was a part of her past before him and yet seeing her in those photos like that sparked something in him. He wanted to burn those photos.

“No.” Erik finally said.

“Are you lying to me?” Sienna questioned.

“Do you want me to be angry?” Erik asked with an expression of annoyance.

“I want you to tell me how you feel. I know you don’t like what you saw.”

Erik skimmed the side of his teeth with his tongue.

“Okay,” He turned to face her, “I think you should get rid of them. If you’re over it, why keep them around?”

Sienna stiffened.

“I…a part of me thought that I would somehow reunite with him…but that was before I met you.”

Sienna’s right foot jiggled beneath the table.

“I honestly forgot about them,” Sienna looked down at her plate.

“Okay…”

Erik reached out to stroke Sienna’s knee and then his hand came up to lift her chin.

“Seeing those photos made me realize something,” Erik tugged at his shirt collar, “I don’t want to be your sugar daddy anymore.”

Sienna bowed her head and sadness overtook her features instantly.

“I want to be your man.”

Her head shot up so quickly she could have injured her neck. Her eyes glistened as she looked Erik in the eyes with bewilderment. Erik stood up and he lifted her to her feet. He held onto her hands and his eyes held her gaze with such intensity and confidence.

“I’ve wanted to be your man for a while now. I wish this was a more romantic moment…and I’ll make up for that…but I can’t keep my feelings all bottled up anymore, Sienna. I want this to be real between us. Will you be my woman?”

Sienna glanced up at the ceiling while trying to blink away tears. She closed her eyes and exhaled and a smile slowly formed on her lush lips. She opened her eyes and looked at Erik.

“Yes, I’ll be your woman, Erik.”

Erik closed the space between them and cupped her face in his hands before crashing his lips against hers. Their tongues danced with desperation. Sienna brought her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his as if she were trying to connect with him. Heads swiveling back and forth, hands gripping, hearts pounding, they kissed with passion. Erik picked Sienna up and she straddled his waist.

Food neglected, Erik walked with her wrapped around his body towards her room. He pushed the door open roughly, causing it to swing open hard. He dropped Sienna down on the bed, taking a second to make sure he hadn’t bothered her left foot before taking off his T-shirt in such a frenzy. He didn’t wait for Sienna to undress herself, Erik’s hands were on the hem of her withered T-shirt and he pulled it over her head madly causing her braids to fall into her face.

He yanked his sweatpants and briefs down and kicked his feet out in double quick time. The sound of hurried breaths and rustling filled the room. His locs framed his face like a wild man as he looked down at her. His chest heaved up and down like he’d run a marathon. Erik pushed Sienna down and her body bounced. His large, powerful hands spread her thighs and pushed forward so that her hips opened up more. His eyes never left hers as he lowered to his knees on that carpet and sucked her pussy lips into his mouth.

“UNH!”

Sienna sat up to watch him. Her round, full breasts bounced from her constant writhing. He stroked her pussy with his strong tongue and then his plump lips would slurp all over her clit like it was a tiny sickle. She grabbed a handful of his locs and curled her toes. Erik had his eyes shut and the noises he made while devouring her pussy was so primal. Erik pinned her thighs back with his arms outstretched and his hands hooked beneath her knees. He didn’t leave her ass untouched. He spit in her asshole and put a finger there while sucking on her pussy.

“Fuck, yes, daddy!”

Sienna squealed on a loop.

“Eat your pussy! This is your pussy!”

That finger in her ass and his mouth all over her pussy had Sienna cross-eyed.

“Yesahhhhhfuckkkkkkkk…ahh…uhhh…uhuh…fu–uhhhh…oh!”

She made a bridge with her back and clamped Erik’s face between her trembling thighs.

Sienna finally let go of his hair and Erik stood to his feet. He breathed out harshly with a wet beard. His dick stood out like a flag pole. He didn’t have much to say when he stretched out on the bed. Still breathing heavily, Erik had two hands on his shaft and he pointed his big-ass-dick at Sienna’s full lips. She laid on her side and Erik gathered her braids in his grip tight. She wrapped a hand around his base and it was so heavy in her hand. Sienna fit her hungry lips around Erik’s wide tip and she struggled to lower her mouth over him because he was so fucking hard.

“Get down on this dick, girl. It’s been in your mouth too much for you to struggle.” Erik barked out.

She relaxed her throat and gently opened her mouth wider, sinking deeper.

“Good girl…good FUCKING girl.”

Right hand on his sack, left hand pumping, and lips sucking. Sienna kept her eyes on him and Erik was biting on his bottom lip with his eyes low and wanton.

“I ate that puss, huh? Yeah…it’s really mine now. Ain’t no faking that shit, little mama.”

Erik pressed his heels into the mattress and with the strength of his toned and sculpted hips he fed her mouth with more dick.

guck guck ekkk guck guck pop! guck guck.

Spit bubbles covered his balls. Erik chuckled and then his eyelids fluttered and his lips parted.

“Make daddy cum, nasty girl,” Erik shut his eyes and dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, “You’re my nasty little girl.”

Sienna stroked and sucked and she could feel Erik’s hand shake around her braids. His toes curled under and that moan-grunt combo that made her pussy wet billowed from his plump lips.

“Drink it down…uh–hhhhhhuhhhhhh—“

Sienna sucked on his tip with no hands and another wave of cum hit her tongue. Erik let her hair go and he got out of bed and walked to her hallway. He returned with a fresh rag and went to the bathroom to wet it. When he returned, he cleaned all the spit from her face with his eyes glued to hers. Erik tossed the rag at the end of the bed and positioned Sienna on her back on the edge of the bed.

Erik stood between her legs and lined his dick up with her waiting hole. With one thrust he was deep and Sienna cried out. Erik hooked his arms beneath her knees and kept Sienna pinned to the bed while he hunched over her. Toes digging into the carpet, calve muscles burning, thigh muscles flexed, abs and hips working in conjunction, Erik drilled Sienna.

“Got that little pussy weeping all over my dick!”

“Yes!”

His thrusts were sharp and precise. Sienna dug her nails into his biceps.

“Cum for daddy…”

Sienna convulsed against his sweaty chest.

“There you go, good girl.”

Clapping noises from their tacky skin filled the room.

“I love you, Sienna.” Erik declared with a shaky voice.

She was too overstimulated to form coherent words but the way her eyes flooded with tears and the tremble in her bottom lip when she tried to form the words I love you too was enough for him. He wanted to give her the world. He meant every word that uttered from his lips. And she knew it.

They touched foreheads and Erik slowly stroked her pussy, rocking her back and forth. They’re equally full lips molded together in a sensual french kiss. Erik released their kiss with a wet smack and looked down at Sienna with wet eyes. She watched as tear drops landed on her cheek. He gritted his teeth and tightened his sculpted jaw. The tip of his nose turned faintly red and it was the cutest thing Sienna had ever seen.

She wiped away his tears and Erik did the same for her. They stared at each other and then slowly smiles crept up their faces. Erik licked his lips and leaned in to kiss on Sienna’s neck. His lips created a path to her breasts where he showed her nipples some love too. Sienna tightened her walls around his dick like she was doing kegels. Erik popped a nipple out of his mouth and then he sat up to maneuver Sienna’s pliant thighs back as far as she could stand it.

He continued to dick her down and the way he would look at his dick fucking her and up into her glossy eyes made her squirt.

“You’re so perfect,” Erik pounded, “Everything about you is so perfect.”

She was overcome with emotion that all she could do was cry on that dick. He thought she was perfect. That warmed her heart.

“Sienna…Sienna…Sienna…”

He moaned her name over and over.

“I’m cumming for you, Sienna…Gahdamn—”

Erik’s dick pulsated inside of her pussy with his release. Sienna tilted her head forward and Erik met her lips. He let her legs go and massaged her inner thighs.

“I don’t wanna leave…”

She couldn’t believe it, he was fucking her again. The amount of slip from their mixed fluids sent tingles all over her body.

“I got more for you, baby—”

“Give me that nut—”

“Here it comes—”

“Daddy, cum in your pussy—”

His body spasmed above her and he moaned in her ear. It was divine.

“Fuck, little mama,” Erik’s sweaty cheek touched against hers, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His dick finally slipped out and Sienna sat up to see how it looked. It was semi hard and covered in cum. His sweaty body looked like a masterpiece. Erik smoothed his locs from his face and gave her a lazy smirk.

“That was probably the best session we’ve had so far.” Sienna said.

“Yeah, ain’t nothing topping that.” Erik replied.

He leaned over her and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Standing at his full height again, Erik walked with slow strides towards the bathroom and turned on the shower. He returned and helped Sienna to her feet.

“We can take the splint off for the shower.”

They took turns using the bathroom and then Erik sat Sienna on the toilet to take off her splint. He examined her ankle and he could tell that the swelling had gone down. The bruise was much smaller but a deep purple. He kissed her ankle and foot before helping her to her feet.

“Let me see you put weight on it.”

Sienna carefully placed the bottom of her foot flat against the bathroom floor. She hissed when she shifted her weight to stand straighter. Erik had her by the waist.

“How is it?”

“I can stand on it but it feels weird and it hurts if I try to walk forward.”

“Okay. But is it better than the day of the injury? Try flexing.”

“It’s better but,” Sienna frowned her face in discomfort, “it’s still sore. It hurts more when I flex down than up.”

“Aight. Splint stays on for two more days and then we move on to physical therapy.”

Erik had to hold her the entire time they were in the shower. She braced herself against the wall and made sure she didn’t make any sudden movements. As much as they would have loved to fool around in the shower, she needed to avoid further injury.

When they finished, Erik wrapped her towel around her body and helped her out first. He toweled her down and watched her walk into the room to sit on her bed. Erik dried off and joined her so they could rub down with shea butter. Afterwards, bodies glistening and smelling good, Sienna sat in a chair while Erik changed her sheets. They were both exhausted from all the sex so Erik spooned Sienna’s naked body beneath the sheets and they both fell into deep slumber.

———

Selena had called Sienna the fifth time. She was outside of her apartment now with notes in her hand from today’s review lecture on pharmacology. She knew that Sienna would need detailed notes and she tried calling her to let her know that she would be stopping by to drop them off and check on her, but she hadn’t returned her calls.

Selena started to grow worried about her friend. She was dressed in scrubs because today was lab day. Her peanut butter skin was flushed from the heat and her wavy hair was pulled back into a neat bun. Selena knocked and waited for her friend to come to the door. After ten seconds she knocked again.

Meanwhile, Sienna opened her eyes and blinked to adjust. She sat up on her elbow and turned over to look at Erik. He was sound asleep on his back with his head twisted to the side. She smiled at his sleeping face before leaning down to kiss his cheek. That’s when she heard the knocks. Sienna pulled the sheets back from her bed with a puzzled look on her face. She climbed out of bed carefully and limped over towards her closet door to retrieve her silk robe. Securing it, Sienna grabbed her crutches and she left the room.

Out in the living room, the knocks started again and she didn’t want to shout and wake Erik. He deserved the rest after everything he did for his woman. Sienna peered through the peephole and her body froze. She took a minute to collect herself before opening the door. Selena looked at her with relief swimming in her eyes. Sienna gave her friend a smile and offered for her to come in.

“I made copies of my notes for you,” Selena sat them down on her coffee table, “How are you, girl? I called you five times.”

“Good. Getting better. Sorry…I was a little tied up,” Sienna looked around the living room, “Thanks for making me copies, Selena. That reminds me, I really gotta get some studying done.”

“You know I got you girl. I’m happy you’re doing better. What did the physical therapy doctor say?”

“So,” Sienna spoke softly, “I have to meet with them when Dr. Stevens gives me the okay to take this splint off. Should be within a couple of days. I’m dreading it.”

“Girl, you better do it. You don’t want problems in the future do you?” Selena said.

“Nah, I can’t afford to have that.” Sienna replied with a dry laugh.

Selena could tell that Sienna was distracted. She didn’t move further into her apartment like she normally would. Selena’s eyes darted from left to right and she tilted her head at Sienna with furrowed brows.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sienna exhaled, “Just, exhausted.”

Selena stood up and walked up to Sienna. She boldly smoothed her braids from her shoulder and smiled at her. Sienna returned the smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s been a while since, you know,” Selena arched a thick brow and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Ha,” Sienna licks her lips, “Yeah, it has been.”

“I was thinking that maybe you could use a release to make you feel better…”

Selena closed the space between them and her lips were centimeters away from Sienna’s. She could smell chocolate on her breath. Selena’s lips pressed into Sienna’s and she broke the kiss quickly. Selena furrowed her brows at Sienna for not reciprocating the way she had expected.

“…did I do something wrong?” She gave Sienna a once-over.

“Selena…”

Sienna looked her friend in the eyes.

“What is it?” Selena pushed.

She folded her arms across her chest.

“I have to tell you something—”

“Baby girl…”

Out into the living room walked a naked Dr. Stevens. He looked like one of those Greek sculptures and his third leg was almost at full attention. Even on soft it looked heavy. Selena’s eyes bulged out and her mouth dropped open. Sienna stood there with shock and when Erik finally noticed them standing there he froze.

“SHIT—”

He grabbed his jacket to cover his crotch. He looked like a helpless man standing there in his beautiful naked glory. His eyes darted back and forth between Selena and Sienna until finally he opened his mouth to cut the tension.

“Hello, Selena.”

Erik waved at her awkwardly. He bowed his head and rocked back and forth on his heels.

“I can explain—”

“You’ve been fucking him?!!”

“Yes,” Sienna finally admitted, “I have. For a while now.”

“What’s a while?!”

“Since before me and you first messed around…”

“That was months ago, Sienna—what the hell?! I thought you hated him!”

Erik raised a brow and looked at Sienna. The corner of his mouth ticked up into a faint smirk. She turned her face away from him so he wouldn’t make her smile.

“Well, turns out I didn’t. I was attracted to him.”

Selena couldn’t believe it. She looked hurt by that. Sienna drew in a breath and tried to reason with her friend.

“You can understand why I didn’t say anything, right? I mean…for obvious reasons.”

Selena chuckled but it wasn’t because she thought the situation was funny. She was angry. Jealous even.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” She looked at Sienna with hurt eyes, “And we had sex.”

Selena closed her mouth and shut her eyes. She looked like she had more to say but instead she turned and walked towards the door. Sienna tried to keep up with her and Erik stayed rooted to the spot because of his nudity.

“Selena, wait—”

“Have fun fucking him! I’m sure it was worth it!”

It was.

“Selena!”

She marched out of the door and down the hall. Sienna huffed and turned her eyes on Erik.

“Let her go, Sienna.” He said.

Sienna made her way back into the apartment and shut the door. Erik sat his jacket down and walked over to her. He rubbed her arms affectionately. Sienna gave a bitter laugh.

“Sienna,” Erik held her gaze, “Selena likes you more than friends.”

Sienna knew this deep down.

“I have to talk to her. I feel horrible.”

“Well,” Erik cocked his head to the side, “You had every right to keep this between us. And we still should for the time being until you graduate. Do you trust that she’ll keep her mouth shut?”

Selena shrugged, “I—I hope so. She wouldn’t do that…”

“A real friend wouldn’t sabotage their friendship by doing something like that. I agree, you should talk to her. If you want, share it with her. Be honest. But don’t feel bad for doing what’s right for you. No disrespect, but you didn’t owe her that.”

“I know, I just…she looked hurt.”

Erik rubbed Sienna’s shoulders. She bowed her head and Erik tilted her chin up at him.

“It’s gonna be alright, baby. You ladies will work it all out.”

___

A week had gone by and Sienna’s physical therapy sessions were going pretty well. She returned to school and was able to get around fine on her ankle. Erik had a lot going on at work so their time together was short whenever they could schedule it.

Sienna walked into her nursing class wearing navy blue scrubs and her all white HOKA shoes. Her left ankle is in an air brace with an ace bandage. It was the last day to review for women and infant health. She sat towards the back of the classroom and Selena looked up from her open notebook to stare at Sienna.

They hadn’t spoken since Selena discovered that Sienna had been messing around with Dr. Stevens. Sienna waved to Selena and she returned the wave with a small smile. As she took her seat, she thought about how Selena must have felt when she saw Erik. Jealous? Angry? Sad? Betrayed? It wasn’t like they were in a relationship. Just two friends messing around.

The lecture began and Sienna zoned out after thirty minutes. All she could think about was Erik declaring his love for her. She caught herself daydreaming about the blissful weekend they had at her apartment. She threw those Polaroids away and loved on her new man. There was a slight difference in their sex now. It was more passionate. Erik couldn’t go without telling Sienna that he loved her while he was balls deep.

“Miss. Thomas…”

Sienna blinked and focused her attention on her professor. They were passing around activity sheets for them to practice possible exam questions. She accepted the pile of papers, placed one in front of her, and passed it on to the student sitting beside her. Sienna glanced back over her shoulder at Selena and she caught Sienna’s eye.

“Meet after class?” Sienna mouthed.

Selena nodded her head in agreement.

After two hours of lecture, they took a break and Sienna waited for Selena outside of the classroom. She checked the time on her I watch to make sure they had enough time to grab something quick to eat at the cafeteria before they had to start the lab. Selena exited the classroom and walked up to Sienna. She smirked at her before opening her arms to pull Sienna in for a hug. They embraced each other and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Sienna asked.

Selena shoved her hair away from her face when they walked outside towards the cafeteria.

“I was. Let’s forget about it.” Selena replied.

“No, we should talk about it.” Sienna urged.

“I have questions that you probably don’t want to answer because…you know…”

Sienna chewed on her bottom lip.

They walked into the cafeteria and settled on some pizza. Sienna found a table near a window for them to sit and eat. Selena took a bite of her supreme pizza and Sienna plucked the olives off of hers.

“So, I want to tell you about Erik and I.” Sienna finally spoke.

Selena nodded her head slowly, “Okay…”

“I mean, if you don’t want to know—”

“I do.” Selena replied, cutting Sienna off.

“Alright,” Sienna sat up straighter and leaned in, “So…he actually came onto me first. He found my Sugar Daddies Meet profile and we pretty much matched. It was the day that he called me into his office. Remember that? Anyway, the next day he took me to school, then he took me to lunch and after lunch we went back to his place…”

“…We pretty much talked about me becoming his sugar baby and what my allowance would be. After that, We went to his room and…”

Sienna shivered. Reminiscing on what it was like to have that dick for the first time made her shudder.

“Focus.” Selena jokes.

“Yeah, so we had sex—I forgot to mention he gifted me this,” Sienna lifted her shirt a little to show Selena the belly ring, “And pretty much he’s been spoiling me and being such a gentleman. We’re actually in a relationship now so…”

Sienna was giddy. She smiled with all her teeth and her shoulders went up. She acted like a teenager with a crush.

“You’re serious?” Selena asked with shock in her voice.

“He asked me to be his woman and I said yes. It was beautiful, Selena. I’m actually in love with him and I did not expect that but here I am.”

“Wow,” Selena wilted, “That’s…that’s great, girl.”

Sienna tilted her head at Selena, “What do you think?”

“…I think it’s risky. I think you should be more careful. Especially since Lori already suspects that Dr. Stevens has a crush on you.”

“Really?!” Sienna lowered her voice, “What?”

“After you left, around dinner time me and Lori went on break together. We were talking about you and what happened, and then she mentioned that she’d noticed Dr. Stevens taking an interest in you.”

Sienna didn’t feel like they were obvious in front of everyone, but if Lori felt as if something were going on, then maybe they weren’t being careful.

“Did you suspect anything?” Sienna questioned.

“I did, believe it or not. The day you hurt your ankle, I could just sense it. And he had touched your knee all soft and gentle. And then there’s the constant requests for you to assist in his surgeries. Girl, you had Taylor pissed for a while because certain surgeries that he did she wanted to see for experience.”

Sienna chuckled and Selena laughed with a shake of her head.

“So, he wasn’t feeling a type of way about us?”

“No,” Sienna bites her bottom lip, “it actually turned him on. He’s such a freaky man.”

“Uhhhh TMI?!!!”

They laughed.

“Sienna looked over at her friend with kind eyes, “Selena…I’m sorry if I ever led you on. I didn’t know how you truly felt about us…”

A flush crept up Selena’s face and she turned her gaze towards the window.

“You didn’t lead me on…I’ll admit I was crushing hard on you…but I understand that your feelings are elsewhere…it’s not fair for me to be angry with you when it was clear that we weren’t—”

Selena stopped herself. Her expression closed up and Sienna waited for her to finish.

“I’m happy for you, girl,” Selena plastered a smile on her face, “I am, really. Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want word to get back to the program and you mess up your chance of graduating.”

It was refreshing to know that Selena wouldn’t snitch out of spite. It was also a relief that they were able to talk about it.

“Thanks, Selena. I really really like him. I know you might think he’s too old for me—”

“Girl, do you! I didn’t even think about the age difference. How old is he?”

“He’s fourty-six.” Sienna said.

“So that’s…nineteen or twenty years older?”

“Twenty.”

“Live your life, Sienna. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. As long as he respects you, that’s all that matters. A lot of older men love to manipulate women younger than them.”

“He’s definitely not like that. He’s dominant but not in a way where he’s dictating my life, you know? He knows and understands that I’m a woman and he lets me flourish in my independence. He spoils me because he wants to. He’s a gentleman and an overall nice guy because he respects me as a woman. I feel safe with him. I can be myself around him…”

Sienna’s heart nearly skipped a beat.

“Sounds like you’ve met your soulmate.” Selena said.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sienna grinned.

“I feel like the next time I see him it's gonna be so awkward,” Selena palmed her forehead, “I saw this man’s junk!”

Sienna giggled, “That was A LOT.”

Selena doubled over with laughter, “I see why you’re hooked!”

“Shut up!” Sienna rolled her eyes with laughter.

“Seriously, the man is BLESSED—my bad! Let me stop this is too much—”

“Not what you expect to see outside of his scrubs, huh?!” Sienna jokes.

“Actually, the body does match the face! It’s the whole situation that’s got me shocked like…this man walks out full blown naked—”

“Stop!” Sienna shouted between laughter.

“So, he’s your version of McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy?”

“Derek ain’t got shit on Erik, okay?!” Sienna sassed.

After they finished laughing and wiping away tears, they finished their pizza and headed back to the classroom. On their walk back, Erik texted Sienna about their weekend plans. It was Friday so he wanted to know when she’d be home so he could pick her up.

Dr.Daddy 💦🍆💞: Hey, baby. Let me know when you get home so I can be on my way to you. I had a short day today.

Sienna typed away on her phone and Selena had to grab her by the arm so she wouldn’t walk into another student on campus.

“Is that Erik?” Selena asked

“Yeah, he’s taking me out this weekend. He wants to spoil me since I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with this fucked up ankle.”

“Let me know how that goes.” Selena responded with a knowing smile.

———

Erik had a special weekend planned for Sienna. Although they made things official, he wanted to do it right the second time around and relive the moment. On his way to pick up Sienna, Erik stopped by a florist shop he liked and picked up a strikingly beautiful bouquet. It’s a vivid bouquet full of red roses and stargazer lilies surrounded by pink waxflower and seasonal greens.

Tonight, he reserved a table at STK San Francisco. He’d been once before two years ago with his ex wife and he remembered that Sienna had wanted to go. He reserved a table and after dinner he arranged for a romantic set up back at his penthouse with a trail of rose pedals leading up towards the master bedroom with champagne on ice, candlelight, and a special gift for her.

Erik dressed himself in a black button-down dress shirt with slim fit black slacks and black leather lace-up Oxford shoes. He accessorized with a diamond Cuban link chain and matching bracelet with various diamond finger rings. He drove his all black Rolls-Royce Wraith for the date night.

He was at Sienna’s door and he opened it with his key. Stepping inside, He spotted Sienna applying Mac Ruby-Woo lipstick to her lips in a compact mirror from her black YSL clutch. Erik’s eyes drank her in. She wore this black dress that dropped at her ankles and hugged her body like it was painted on. On her feet were black stilettos with her toes out and simple gold jewelry was her choice of accessory. Gold rings on her fingers, a thin gold necklace with a letter E Erik had gotten for her as a random gift last week. Her ears were decorated with gold chandelier earrings. The makeup she wore made her look like a vixen. A smokey eye and a bold red lip. Her braids were styled in a bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look amazing,” Erik held out her flowers, “This is for you…”

“So do you. Thank you, baby,” Sienna pecked Erik’s lips so that she wouldn’t stain them with her lipstick, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. I’ll grab your overnight bag…”

Sienna sniffed the flowers with her eyes shut while walking past Erik. Erik picked up her bag from the couch and opened the door for her.

“I can’t stop looking at you. And that perfume you’re wearing…baby, that’s your scent.”

“Jimmy Choo I Want Choo Forever. You gifted me that, remember?”

“I bought you so many gifts I can’t keep up,” Erik chuckled, “How was school?”

“Intense. But it was a good day. I talked to Selena.”

They were outside and Erik opened the door for Sienna. He shut her door and went around to the other side.

“How did that go?”

Erik started the car and they drove off.

“It went well. I’m happy we got to talk. How was work?”

Erik drives one-handed. Sienna stroked his thigh with her left hand and Erik caressed her knee with his thumb.

“Man,” Erik shook his head, “Had two cases. A Diskectomy in the morning and that was hell. You know how I do, I get shit done. But if my staff isn’t aligned with the way I work, the flow is fucked. So, I had to chew some heads off,” Erik laughed with Sienna, “You know, baby girl. I needed order. Anyway, got that knocked out. Boom, so we have an ACL Reconstruction in the afternoon and nobody wanted to get on my bad side. We breezed through that and I was satisfied.”

“I loved watching you work,” Sienna said, “You’re always so precise and you’re just great at what you do. Working the floor during clinical, I’ve had so many patients leave good reviews about you.”

“I’m touched, truly,” Erik smiled, “At the end of the day, I do what I do to make people’s lives easier. No one wants to be under anesthesia and poorly operated on. It leaves a bad impression…and a liability.”

Erik and Sienna laughed.

“You’re gonna do great things, Sienna. You’re such a good student.” Erik said.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that. I haven’t been feeling like it lately.”

Erik made a turn after the light turned green.

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The pressure. Nursing is so hard. I have this picture perfect image of myself in my mind and I don’t want to fuck up.”

Erik hummed, “I get that. But listen to me, mistakes will be made, baby. You learn from them. It took me years. I didn’t feel confident in myself until I was almost forty years old. It comes with time. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You have awards for your success.” Sienna teased.

“And I accept it. I’ve worked hard.” Erik cocked his head and smiled.

Sienna linked her hand with Erik’s and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I love you,” Sienna said.

“I love you too, baby.” Erik replied.

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of it. They finally arrived and Erik opened Sienna’s door. She stepped out and gasped, turning towards Erik and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He lifted her off of the ground and kissed her cheek.

“I remember you wanted to try it. Come on,” Erik held out his hand for her to take.

STK Steakhouse blends the modern steakhouse and a chic lounge into one, offering a dynamic, fine dining experience with the superior quality of a traditional steakhouse.

STK distinguishes itself by emphasizing the social experience and taking a vibe-driven approach to fine dining. Every venue has a DJ to create an infectious, high-energy atmosphere and the sleek environment is designed to encourage guests to interact and mingle. Ultimate, STK aims to define the modern dining experience complete with incredible food, world-class service and the perfect ambiance.

“Hello! Name?”

“Stevens.”

“Right this way!”

The hostess led Sienna and Erik to a window seat with a beautiful view of the nocturnal city. The roads were slick and wet from a previous rainfall and it acted as a reflection for the architecture that was San Francisco. Their waiter, Sophia, pranced over excitedly and greeted them with a gleaming white smile. Her arctic blue eyes were striking and friendly.

“I’m Sophia! I’ll be your waiter for the evening. Unfortunately, happy hour is over, but I would be happy to give you guys our regular drink menu.”

“Hello, Sophia. We’ll have a bottle of your Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label and two waters with lemon.” Erik ordered.

“Perfect,” Sophia types that into her tablet, “Any starters for you tonight?”

“Your tuna tartare and…the fried calamari.”

“Alright. I will be back with your water and champagne.”

“Thank you,” Erik focused his attention back to Sienna, “The music here is great, isn’t it?”

Sienna listened and started bouncing her head to the AfroBeats song, “I love this song.”

“I think I have this on my playlist. I’ve been meaning to ask you, is your family coming up to see you graduate?”

Sienna shook her head, “No. I do have plans to spend a weekend with them to celebrate though.”

“That would be nice.” Erik said.

“I would like for you to come…if you can.”

Erik smiled at Sienna and reached across the table to grab her hand, “I’d love to, baby. I have to see what my schedule is looking like. I may be able to sneak away.”

“I hope so. I want to introduce you to my auntie and some of my cousins.” Sienna said.

“I want to introduce you to my family as well.”

Sophia returned with their chilled champagne and water. Erik ordered their entrees. He poured them glasses and they sipped and talked about anything to pass the time. Being with Sienna felt so relaxing.

“…I’ve been meaning to ask you. I have sort of a work trip soon in Hawaii. There’s this event for prestigious doctors that I have to attend, mingle, and play nice with people I don’t like. Leo is going to be there and he’s bringing Treasure. I was wondering if you wanted to go? I can understand if you’re busy—”

“I’d love to go, Erik. It sounds like it’s going to be a good time. I’m down.”

Erik laughs, “Aight, I have a vacation home there so we’ll stay at my place.”

“Oooooo, you just never seize to amaze me, Dr. Stevens,” Sienna said with a playful wink of her eye.

“Being with me, I’ll take you wherever you want to go, baby.”

Sienna blushes. Erik made it his mission to see that look on her face always.

They’re food arrived and they both started eating, sampling food from each other’s plates. A woman with a slicked back ponytail, and a curvy frame dressed in a red dress and black stilettos cautiously walked over towards them. Sienna was the first to notice. She eyed the woman with a furrow in her brow. Erik followed Sienna’s gaze and when his eyes fell on the woman, he sat up straighter, placed his napkin on the table and turned slightly in his seat.

“Carrie, hello,” Erik stood up and hugged the woman.

“How are you, Erik! It’s so good to see you, it’s been a while. Who’s this?”

Erik cleared his throat, “Carrie, this is Sienna. Sienna, this is Carrie. She’s a friend of Faith’s.”

It took Sienna a few seconds to remember who Faith was, “Oh! Hi!” She shook Carrie’s hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Carrie let go of Sienna’s hand and focused her eyes on Erik, “I figured I’d come over and say hello. I’m here with Kevin. You look great, how’s work?”

“Uh, good. Everything’s good. Everything good with you?”

“You know the life of an attorney never settles. But otherwise, things are great. Kevin is great, he’s just as busy as I am. He was just in New York to finalize this architectural contract.” Carrie said.

“Tell Kevin I said hello. I’m happy both of y’all are great.” Erik replied.

“I will. Hey, you think you would come to our yearly ski trip this year? I know with everything—would you still go? You’re the life of the party!”

Erik laughs, “I don’t know, Carrie. Why don’t I get back to you.”

“Don’t leave us hanging, Stevens,” she looked at Sienna briefly with curiosity, “I’ll let you enjoy your dinner. Good to see you, Erik. Sienna.”

“You too, Carrie.”

With a final wave, Carrie walked away and Erik exhaled. Sienna noticed that he visibly relaxed.

“Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting to run into Carrie,” Erik chuckles.

“It’s okay. Ski trip?”

“Yeah. That was like…our thing every fall. We’d all go to Aspen for a week.”

“Sounds fun,” Sienna looked down at her food.

“It is if you like the cold,” Erik jokes.

They finished their food and Sienna excused herself to the restroom. On her way, she ran into Carrie leaving the restroom. Carrie almost collided with her because she was too busy staring at her phone. They both looked up at the same time

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Carrie stepped to her right.

“No problem,” Sienna pushed open the bathroom door.

“Are you Erik’s girlfriend?”

Sienna paused.

“I am actually.” Sienna replied.

“Oh,” Carrie looked her up and down, “Run for the hills, sweetie. You look like you’re young. You seem like you have a lot going for yourself. Erik is not someone to get tangled with. Believe me.”

Carrie gave Sienna one final look over before placing a firm grip on her black Birkin and walking away with a purposeful strut. Sienna was baffled. She didn’t know what Carrie had meant by that, but now she wanted to know. If she had to venture a guess, it had something to do with Faith.

___

Erik placed a hand on the small of her back and they slowly danced to Usher ft. Beyoncé-Love In This Club Remix.

Now, baby girl, there ain't nothing more that I can say

You know by now, I want it more than anything

If I walk away and just let you leave

You'll be stuck in my head like a melody…

They did a slow two-step and Sienna’s hand in Erik’s grasp felt warm and welcoming. He pressed his nose into her hair and closed his eyes.

But you decided to be here with me

No coincidence, it was meant to be

Don't be shy, come let your boy get in

So you can tell all of your friends

You was on the remix, like…

Erik twirled Sienna around so that her back was flesh against his front. With one hand resting against her stomach and the other on her hip, they swayed back and forth with a sensual dance. The strobe lights above them painted their skin various shades of purple, green, and red. No one else mattered. Time stood still. The smell of Erik’s Jean Paul Gaultier cologne filled her nose. His face with his groomed facial hair tickled her neck. It felt like they were in a 90s romance.

Baby, you know I'd be down

But we can't have all these people staring standing around

This right here is only for your eyes to see

But you getting carried away

Saying we can (do it where ever)

The way you touching me

Like no other (I'ma make you feel insane)

You trying your hardest to make me give in

But I'ma be down to give you what you wanting if you keep it up

“I want you so bad right now,” Erik spoke in her ear as if passing on a secret message like they do in those 007 movies.

“I think you can wait until we get back to your place.” Sienna replied with a low, wanton voice.

“You make me lose all self control.”

“Lose it inside of me…”

Doja Cat-Streets started playing and this was Sienna’s song. Erik turned Sienna around to face him again and he dipped her like they were replaying a scene from Dirty Dancing. His hand smoothed up her stomach, between her breasts, over the side of her neck, and then to the back of her head. He lifted her and she dropped her arms over his shoulders. Erik couldn’t keep his hands off of her ass. With the type of pants he wore, Sienna could feel his stiffness against her thigh.

His lips kiss along her neck. Sienna gasped. She was so wet. She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her. Kiss all over his tattoos. Sit on his face. This was beginning to be too much for her. He was going to lose his self control? No, Sienna was going to lose her sanity. She leaned back to stare into his eyes and he looked at her with unbridled desire. The palpable lust in his eyes made her stomach do somersaults.

“Can we go?” Sienna begged with a breathy sigh.

“Alright, princess.”

Erik clasped her hand and they exited the dance floor. They’d slipped past Carrie and Kevin, a burly man with a shiny bald head. Erik dabbed him up and Sienna greeted him with a shy wave. Kevin’s eyes lingered on Sienna longer than they should have. They managed to slip away and Erik motioned for the waiter to come over so he could pay the tab. He tipped the waiter generously, grabbed Sienna’s hand, and they left STK Steakhouse in a frenzy.

___

Commotion.

They staggered inside of Erik’s beautiful condo. He brought the champagne bottle to his thick lips and took a long swig. Sienna snatched the bottle from him and did the same. They stumbled over to one of Erik’s expensive sectionals. Sienna carefully placed the champagne bottle on the table so she wouldn’t spill it all over his good furniture. Erik got down on his knees and squinted his eyes to unclamp her stilettos. She sat back against the couch and watched him with a tipsy smirk.

“There,” Erik picked himself up, “I have a special surprise for you.”

He held out his hand and Sienna took it. They walked towards the stairs and Sienna noticed red rose petals. Her mouth dropped open and one of her hands came up to cover it. Erik smiled handsomely at her and guided her up the steps. His bedroom doors are cracked. He slipped behind Sienna and covered her eyes with his hands. She pushed the doors open and was hit in the face with a wonderful smell. She could smell so many different notes—Sandalwood, Tonka Bean, Amber, Vanilla Jasmine, Rose—Erik removed his hands and Sienna’s eyelids slowly opened.

The room was filled with a romantic ambiance from candlelight and the ceiling to floor windows revealed a beautiful view of the city. The floor was covered in rose petals that led to the bed. The words, ‘Will You Be My Girlfriend’ created a banner on the wall above Erik’s California King. More Champagne sat on ice and Sienna noticed black fur cuffs. Erik circled his arms around her hourglass waist and Sienna instantly felt her eyes well up.

“I wanted to make the moment more special for us this time. I meant what I said, Sienna. I want you to be my woman…”

Erik walked away leaving Sienna standing there with tears streaming down her cheeks. He retrieved a black velvet box from an end table and made his way back over toward her.

“Open this.”

Sienna accepted the box and slowly peeled back the top layer. Her mouth dropped open and she came face to face with a set of keys. She looked up at him and he looked at her.

“I know it’s asking a lot. But..I want you to have these. This place is your place and soon I’d love it if you moved in with me. I hope I’m not moving too fast—”

“Erik, this is a lot,” Sienna hiccups, “You have done so much for me.”

“I love you. I’m not afraid to say it,” Erik cupped her face, “I want to build this relationship with you. I want to meet your family. I want to be there for you always. I know it’s only been months but…this feels so right. I’ve never been so sure about love before. NEVER.”

His eyes brimmed with tears and Sienna was overwhelmed with the intensity in his eyes. This man said he’d never been so sure. His past two marriages were a waste of his time. He finally found his one and he wanted to grow with her and he didn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion. Sienna fucking loved that.

“I’m not letting you go, Sienna.”

“I want you too. I want this. Erik…I love you too. This means so much to me,” Sienna shut her eyes to fight more tears, “You’re my soulmate. I don’t want to lose you.”

Their lips crashed into each other’s. Sienna had a firm grip on the box in her hand. Erik smoothed his hands down her body until they were on the back of her thighs and he hoisted her up so she could straddle him. On their way to the bed, Sienna dropped the box down on the table next to the champagne. Erik fell against the bed with Sienna and rolled over so she was on her back.

They kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Red lips staining his. Breathy moans. Hands desperately caressing. Hearts racing. After five minutes of tongue kissing, Erik broke the kiss and pushed off of the bed. Rose petals clung to his shirt as he unbuttoned it with his eyes glued to Sienna unblinking. Shirtless, Sienna sat up to rub all over his sculpted frame and she painted his chest and abs with her red lips. The tribal tattoo on his arm was littered with soft kisses.

She reluctantly removed her pretty lips from his frame and allowed Erik to undress her. She had on a sexy black lace push up bra and a matching thong. Erik let her take off his slacks and he reached around to unclasp her bra. Her breasts bounced free and her chocolate-chip nipples were pointed out and waiting to be sucked. Erik got down on his knees and Sienna widened her legs. Erik had his hands on her waist delicately while he sucked and flicked her nipples with his tongue.

Sienna’s braids had fallen out of her bun. Rose petals cling to her soft skin covered in body glitter oil. She looked ethereal. Sienna moaned like an Angel and kept her eyes on Erik. Those siren eyes. Her pussy was leaking into the lace crotch. Erik caught a whiff of that beautiful musk and with one large hand he slipped her panties to the side with a nipple between his lips. He looked down and spread Sienna’s sticky, outer lips. Her inner lips and that clit was covered in viscous, slippery arousal. Erik’s middle finger and ring finger slithered between her folds.

He moved from one breast to the other, sucking to his heart's desire. His tongue dripping spit, Sienna could feel it run down her stomach. She placed one hand on the back of his head and squealed when Erik slipped two fingers inside of her. He curled those thick fingers and finger-fucked that pussy at a moderate pace. Her pussy made a creamy noise similar to stirring mac and cheese. Erik’s fingers were glossy with her juices.

“Daddy…yes, daddy…mmm,” Sienna murmured with a whimper in her voice.

He popped his lips off her stiff nipples back and forth and Sienna felt her stomach flutter. It felt so good. Like a tickle she couldn’t escape. He finally brought his lips down to her pussy but first, he stuck his messy fingers in her mouth. Sienna sucked them clean and then he pushed her down onto the bed. Erik ripped her lace panties and went in to slurp her pussy. His fingers twirled her nipples at the same time.

“Right there…Unh…Erik…”

He gave her slow head. He would alternate between kissing her clit, sucking softly on her clit and flicking his tongue over that clit. His thick tongue would tickle her hole and then he slowly and torturously dragged the flatness of his tongue between her labia and over her clit in a continuous motion. Wet smacking noises came from between her legs. He encased her clit again and slowly sucked. Sienna was seeing stars. Her legs shook. That creamy wetness leaked down the side of his chin.

Sienna climaxed. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even mutter a sound. Erik took it up a notch and flicked that tongue on her clit and then he looked her in the eyes while doing it. Sienna fed her pussy in his mouth. She pushed his head away and turned around so that he could eat it from the back. Erik didn’t say a word he got down on his knees behind that wet pussy and ate it from a different angle. He showed her again what that mouth do. He was feasting on that pussy. Erik loved an aggressive little bitch. She shoved that pussy in his face.

“Eat that pussy…eat that pussy…don’t talk just eat that pussy…slurp this young pussy up like that, daddy…yeah…”

Her sweet voice mixed with her aggressive words made Erik’s dick bounce. He allowed her to have her fun.

“Am I your baby? Am I your baby, daddy? Can baby girl cum in daddy’s mouth?”

Sienna convulsed and Erik stayed on that clit. He finally stood up and when he did that dick was so stiff he couldn’t put it down if he tried. Sienna turned and noticed.

“Eating that pussy did this to me.” Erik said.

Sienna stared at that big, juicy dick with hunger.

“Get down here and handle it.” Erik commanded.

She was on her knees and with one hand she gripped him at the base and slapped the weight of him in her hand. This was all hers. She couldn’t believe it. Big balls and all.

“This my big dick?” Sienna stared Erik in the eyes while her tongue painted a wet trail along the vein on the underside of his shaft.

“Mhm. All for you to play wit’.”

“I like big dicks to play with…”

She dropped both hands and sat that dick between her jaws. Sienna rolled her neck and sucked Erik up. She made sure to keep it sloppy. Her red lips stained the wide tip of his stick. She tugged gently on his sack and then she put him in the back of her throat and made gagging noises while sucking. Her body would jerk from the feeling and she would pull back with a sharp intake of her breath and a trail of spit. Her hands glided over his girth and she painted his prominent veins with spit. She did a two-handed job and sucked the tip.

“Sienna…gahdamn, little mama,” Erik frowned his face and bites down on his lip hard, “You tryna make daddy cum quick?”

“I want that nut,” Sienna sucked him down and all the way to the tip, “please?”

Erik’s hands went into fists.

“Here,” Erik had a handful of braids, and he fucked her mouth, “Fuuuuuck.”

Her makeup was ruined. Her red lipstick was smeared. She didn’t care.

“You are so beautiful…you’re so beautiful…keep sucking that dick…”

The moan he released made Sienna swallow him whole. Erik hunched over her and rewarded her with a big nut that splashed all over her tongue. He grabbed his dick and slapped it against her tongue. She sucked on that tip tight and then her lips popped off. She was rewarded with more cum.

“Lick it up…you know what it is…this dick is straight up…I ain’t finished with you.”

“How do you want me daddy? I think you should fuck it like this…”

Sienna turned onto her hands and knees and arched her back DEEP. That back looked steeper than Bradford Street. Her cheeks spread and both of her holes greeted his eyes, welcoming him. Her pink glistened and her hole winked at him. That tight asshole was stained with her cum. Sienna made her cheeks bounce for him. Left cheek, right cheek, that ass danced like it had a mind of its own.

“Can you do that on this dick, girl?”

Erik was behind her quickly. The candle lights created sensual patterns along the walls. Erik lined his dick up with her creamy hole and then he pushed in with a wet plop. His hands remained at his sides and he used the strength of his hips to deliver backshots.

“Oh!” Sienna stretched her arms out above her head and grabbed a first full of the sheets.

Her ass clapped and jiggled with each connection of their hips. It was a beautiful sight.

“Don’t run.” Erik commanded.

“You’re on my spot!” Sienna cried out.

Erik popped Sienna on the ass, “Open that ass…mhm…hold it like that…”

Sienna held her cheeks open and Erik watched his big, thick dick go in and out. Her creamy goodness was frothy and it gave him more lubricant.

“Daddy…stooooppppppp.”

“Keep that arch, Sienna. I thought you were my big girl?”

Sienna bites the sheets and tears streamed from her eyes. Erik had to fix her arch after his dick hit the bottom of her pussy at a different angle like that dick had a hook in it.

“It ain’t over, girl. Daddy got more dick for you…”

Erik stood up on the bed and got into a frog stance. He sank his dick back in that pussy and strong-armed her hips while pounding her shit in from behind.

“Move again, Sienna,” Erik spoke harshly.

“You’re gonna make me cum…”

She did. Erik had that pussy leaking. He pulled out and got down from the bed to kiss and suck on her pussy from behind. He loved the smell and taste of her tender pussy after a fresh fuck. Sienna was too weak to move. She collapsed onto her side and Erik went to lay on his back.

“Up on this dick, little mama.” He spoke with urgency.

Erik had his dick in his fist and he pumped it. The sound was similar to the sound of Sienna’s pussy getting fucked. She carefully swung a leg over him and Erik helped her get into position. Sienna reached behind him to grab his dick to put in but Erik slapped her hand away and instructed her to lean forwards and plant her hands onto the bed. The red balloon banner with those words was the only thing Sienna could see straight ahead. Erik found her entrance and thrust up to the hilt.

“Fuck me back,” Erik said with an abrasive tone while thrusting up, “I want that big ass on my nuts…”

She threw it down on him and Erik met her halfway. She looked back at it and all she could see was her ass bouncing out of control. She couldn’t form words. That mouth dropped open and Erik smoothed her braids from her face before his fingers closed around the back of her neck. He forced her to look down at him.

“Uhuh, that’s it, good girl, your pussy feels so good, baby, you make me want to fuck you all night, I love you—”

Sienna beat a fist down into the mattress and squeezed her eyes shut. Erik gripped her waist to still her movements and he continued fucking her from underneath. Sienna’s head slowly went back and her eyelids fluttered. She was in another dimension. A ‘I Can’t Believe I’m Getting Fucked Like This’ dimension.

“Daddy’s gonna cum in that pretty pussy!!”

Erik pinned her above him with his dick deep inside of her, and his lips on her nipples. He held that dick in her pussy and Sienna could feel him pulsating with his release inside of her. He cream pied her and made sure that dick didn’t leave.

“Don’t you move until I say so,” Erik commanded.

“Y–yes, Daddy,” Sienna stuttered.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours Daddy…”

Erik sat up with Sienna in his lap. They were still connected and Erik kissed her face, lips, shoulders, neck, and breasts. He remained inside of her until his dick went flaccid. Erik absentmindedly peeled rose petals from Sienna’s sweaty skin. Sienna combed her fingers through his locs. Erik shut his eyes and rested his face against her. Sienna continued to massage his scalp and her eyes stared out towards Golden Gate Bridge.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #Spotify

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written-in-flowers · 5 months

Text

So Unlike You (Yunho x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!reader/ Side pairing: OT8 x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut sprinkled with fluffiness/ AU: sugar baby, idolverse

Summary: After hearing about you and Wooyoung, your sweet puppy makes a very surprising request, and you're eager to oblige him.

Warnings: cnc, consensual non consensual, rape play, edging, bondage, light bondage, spanking, pussy slapping, rough oral sex, oral sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it, but it's also discussed beforehand that they don't use one), pet names, mean names, roleplay, ripping clothes off, groping, polyamorous relationship, established relationship, poly!ateez, poly!reader, sugar baby au, idolverse au, dirty talk, super dirty, like damn. Sex toys, nipple play, nipple clamps

MINORS DNI!

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

Yunho was the sweetest, most gentle man you know. This was saying something considering your other boyfriends were equally sweet. He never hesitated to help or comfort you. You remembered him waiting on you hand and foot when you’d gotten sick. He’d driven you and Mihee to her ex-boyfriends’ house in case they showed up. Yunho never showed you anything other than respect, kindness and compassion. Yunho was your mood maker, your gentle giant, the other half of your “Twin Towers”. He rarely showed his “bad” side in front of you; you almost denied he even had one since he rarely rose to anger.

So, his request certainly caught you off guard.

You’d both come back home from a simple date night of arcade games, pizza, and a stroll down by the river. Yunho’s calming, laid back energy always felt refreshing after particularly rough days. You spent an afternoon wrangling toddlers, talking to parents, helping your friend Mihee settle into her dorm, and talking to your mom about your cousin's birthday party. Ending your day with your sweetest boyfriend relieved you of all the stress on your shoulders. Walking into the apartment together, you remained as quiet as possible to not disturb a sleeping Yeosang, so you both drank a glass of wine in the kitchen.

“You know that I love you, right?” Yunho asked nervously, sitting across from you at the island counter.

This phrase became popular amongst your boyfriends, since they typically followed it up with something suspicious. Still, how bad could it possibly be? It was Yunho.

“I’m aware,” you gave a sweet smile, “But you can always remind me, if you want.”

He gave a nervous laugh, running his fingertip around the rim of the wine glass. You could see him thinking it over in his mind, turning it around and around for the right words. Several scenarios crossed your mind as you watched him think. He’s ill. He’s in debt. His family is in trouble and he needs your help. There are so few things that could be wrong, but you hoped it wasn’t so bad.

“Yuyu-ah,” you reached out for him, concerned now, “What’s the matter? You can tell me. Are you sick? Is your family okay? You don’t need to hesitate with me, you know that.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he shook his head, taking your hand gently. “Really,” he insisted, “It’s…Wooyoung told me you and him tried something new in bed a while back and…”

A relieved smile came across your face, “And you wanted to try that too? Yunho, you don’t have to be scared to approach me about trying new things. I trust you with my body every time, don’t I? I didn’t think you’d like free use play, but if you’re curious about it, we can give it a go.”

“That sounds nice, but that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to see if you…if you…”

“If I…?”

“If you’d ever like to try consensual non-consensual play with me.” He blurted out the words before drowning them back with wine.

The request stunned you a moment. You sunk deep into your thoughts to try comprehending the suggestion. Not that you’re against rape play. You’ve heard of other people doing it, and you’d done it once with another client in a safe, trusting environment. But, you expected such suggestions from that person, not from Yunho. You pictured Yunho, taller and bigger and stronger, pinning you to his bed and harshly pounding into you while you whined and pleaded with him to stop. He’d have no trouble overpowering you if you truly fought back. Unlike other clients before him, you knew Yunho would only do it if you gave a firm, certain ‘yes’ and after a long discussion over ground rules and safety colors/words. Seeing his large hands, you remembered each time they went around your throat or sharply slapped your ass. Yunho could be rough and dominant if he truly wanted.

“You want to do that?” you asked, dumbfounded still.

“Um, well…” he smoothed a hand through his black hair, scratching the back of his head, “I’ve always wanted to try it with someone, but I never dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable asking. Since we’ve done kinky things together, I thought, maybe if you wanted to and felt certain, we could try that?” His puppy eyes met yours, and you melted. “I swear I won’t be upset if you say ‘no’. Please, don’t feel you have to agree with it because you’re my Companion or anything. We definitely do not have to do it, if you’re uncomfortable with that. I only thought I’d ask. It’s okay. It’s totally okay if you don’t want to do it.”

“Yunho,” you ran your thumb the back of his hand comfortingly, “If there’s anyone I’d feel comfortable doing that with, it’s you.”

A light pink brightened his cheeks, and he giggled, “Really?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll admit I’m surprised it’s you who asked me. I expected Hongjoong or Jongho to ask, if any of you ever did.”

“I know,” he blushed, “But I thought you might say ‘no’ because it’s not something we’d normally do in bed. It’d be different from the usual dominant stuff we do, and a bit rougher.”

“You want to wreck me, Yuyu?” you teased, laughing softly when he turned away again. “I don’t mind. I trust you to take care of me, and I think it's a new thing for us to explore.”

“Really? It's honestly okay if you don't want to,” he repeated.

“Yunho, yes,” you assured him, walking around the counter and into his arms. “I'd like to try it too. You want to do that now or another time?”

“No, not now,” he shook his head, “When Yeosang goes to see his parents. That way he doesn't over hear it and think that I'm actually hurting you. Besides,” he pulled you closer and smirked, “That way you can be as loud as you like.”

A laugh was muffled by his kiss. After getting his confirmation, you and Yunho discussed exactly what he wanted to do. He asked if you both could do “the entire act” which included you refusing sex and him not taking a “no” scenario. Nothing too elaborate, yet enough to set a dynamic and tone. You both decided on a color system, and your usual safe word “Buttercup”. Being a toy user, you told him you didn't mind the toys or if he decided to restrain you somehow, which led to a discussion about ropes or handcuffs that you left up to him. You agreed to a day and time that would be best for both of you, then went to bed together.

****

“Bye, Yeosangie!”

You kissed Yeosang for the hundredth time that morning, trying to capture as much of it as you could. He'd be gone for three days to see his parents, so you cashed in as many kisses as possible. Yunho’s request did excite you, so perhaps you appeared a bit eager to get him out the door at the same time.

“I'm going to miss you,” you pouted in his arms.

“I'll only be gone three days, babe,” he laughed, hugging you tightly still. “You have seven other boyfriends to keep you company until I come back.”

“But none of them will watch reality shows with me,” you said, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “Who's going to talk shit about bitchy housewives with me?”

You recently managed to get a VPN to watch reality tv shows from other countries. Yeosang quickly became your reality junk buddy after a Real Housewives episode.

“We can stream them online, and watch them together that way,” he replied. “We do live in the age of technology after all.”

“It's not the same,” you whined, hugging him.

“YN, he's not going off to war,” said Yunho from behind you. “He's coming back.”

“What if a war happens and he has to go before then?” You joked, mocking a sad tone and burying your face in Yeosang's neck. “I'll never see him again.”

The three of you laughed before Yeosang gave you one more kiss, then released you. You'd offered to drive him to the station, but he insisted that you stay home. A part of you wondered if Yunho hinted at the afternoon plans. The both of you let him leave, waving goodbye until he closed the door behind him. You tiptoed to kiss Yunho’s cheek, then went to clean up the breakfast dishes.

Your eyes paid attention to the time while you washed dishes. Yunho said he'd like to do it around noon, since that gave you both plenty of time before, during and after, so you suspected he was preparing his room right now. The anticipation left you thinking of all the possible things Yunho could do to you. You never experienced a mean Yunho before, but the members said it can be scary. You told him he didn't have to hold back with you; it's his fantasy and you'd be fine with whatever he decided. Since it's his first time doing this, he said he'd be gentle but once that arousal boils up, that might disappear. Finishing up the counter space, you looked at the clock to see it was half past noon. You worried Yunho might have been too nervous and backed out. Even though it was his idea, you told him if he ever changed his mind you wouldn't be upset and he said vice versa for you. You’d moved to wait in the living room when he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hey you.”

Yunho stood there in a long black shirt and shorts. His face bare and hair free of product, Yunho stripped down to his real self. You often said how you preferred them without all the makeup and hairspray. The stylists always made their skin a lighter shade, and they covered up Yeosang's pretty red wine birthmark. Seeing Yunho as himself, wearing simple clothes, flustered you more than his stage outfits. He leaned against the counter, eyes already peeling off your clothes. Heat rose up from under your shirt at the sight. It reminded you of the villains in dramas, who ooze sex appeal and wickedness at the same time. The kind that are hard to root against because they're so damn good looking.

“Hey,” you kept your tone light and casual, “I just finished cleaning up. I was going to watch this new movie I found, if you want to join me.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, eyes focused on your chest, “I have something else I want to do instead.”

“Game?” You suggested innocently.

“No,” he drawled, shaking his head. He walked around the counter towards you, eyes glinting with lust. His hands rested on your waist, while he leaned into you, “I'd like to do you.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, sliding from his warm embrace, “Not now. I'm tired, and not really in the mood.”

“But…” Yunho scoffed incredulously, “That's your job though.”

You hesitated. You never thought such words would come out of his mouth. “Yunho…”

“You're a Companion,” he continued, “Fucking me is your whole job. Sure, okay, we go on dates and all that, but at the end of the day if I want some ass, you're supposed to give it to me.”

His words. The irritated look in his eyes. Intimidating and standing taller, you couldn't help being flustered by the change in him. He should do more acting.

“I don't have to if I don't want to,” you argued back, yanking your wrist from him.

“Yes, you do,” he roughly grabbed it back, “It's not like you don't like it. You give it up to Hongjoong all the time. You let us gangbang you in front of cameras, and at home. I'm not going to ask you to do anything you haven't done a hundred times before.”

You made an attempt to escape his grasp, but he really did hold onto you. Quickly, he pulled you to him as you struggled and planted a hard kiss on your lips. He told you he wanted you to truly fight him back; he assured you he wouldn't hurt you too badly. You lightly slapped his shoulders, wriggling in his hold as the kiss deepened and he forced his tongue into your mouth. A soft groan escaped him as he trapped you between himself and the counter. You swatted at him, trying to scoot free as he kissed and nibbled down your neck. The bulge grazed against you kindled a fire inside you, but you forced it back down.

“Yunho-ah, stop it,” you scoffed, pushing him away briefly. When you slapped him lightly, he glared. It aroused you further.

“No,” he grunted, hands wrapping around you once more. You squeaked at the hands squeezing your ass, feeling it through the thin shorts you wore. “I'm horny, and your job is to fix that. Let me see these.”

“No!”

You tried blocking his hands from sliding under your top to lift your shirt, but it didn't work. He lifted the tight top above your breasts, which he immediately kneaded in his hands. Yunho’s jaw dropped at the sight of them in his palms, your nipples hardening against his palms. You’d opted out of a bra today, and you’re glad you did. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Using one leg to spread yours, Yunho groaned as he cupped both breasts.

“Stop,” you said, trying to cover them from view but purposefully failing. “I'm going to call Hongjoong,” you threatened.

“For? For him to come watch?” He smirked, flicking at one of your nipples. “He loves watching, and I normally don't mind, but I want to keep it just you and me today.” You grabbed his wrists when he moved down to your shorts, shaking your head and breathing heavily. “Let me see you,” he ordered, “It's mine, after all. I pay for it.”

“I don't want to,” you shot back, though you did not appear as confident as you sounded. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

You gasped when his hand grabbed your sex. Long fingers sliding fully over your shorts, he massaged it in circles that had you frozen in place.

“Gosh, it's so warm,” he moaned, his other hand going back to fondling your breast. “And it gets wet so easily. I only have to rub it a few times and it's soaked. We really hit gold when we got you.”

“Let go,” you demanded, but didn't move.

Yunho then turned you around, pressing you into the counter once more, and continued feeling you up. His hardon brushing your ass now, he let out a low moan when you instinctively pushed back. Soft panting filled your ear as he lightly touched you. You pushed against his hands, trying to tear yourself from him, but he kept a firm grip on you.

“Yunho, I mean it. Let me go.”

“Ugh, shut up already. It's not like I haven't done this before.”

“I will tell management. I'm not kidding.”

He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder, and scowled. “Go ahead. I'll tell them you asked for it and they'll believe me. Nobody believes sluts like you,” he grabbed your chest again and pinched your nipples, “I’ll even tell them you didn’t wear a bra. ‘Well, hyungmin, YN wasn’t wearing a bra, and I was only giving her what she wanted’,” he said in a mocking tone, his voice tickling your nerves, “‘Noonanim, YN wanted it a little rough’. Honestly, YN, who do you think they’ll listen to?”

This empty threat made you hold back a giggle. You never expected him to be so in character.

“Buttercup,” you snorted, unable to hold it in.

“What's wrong?” His concern dropped once he heard you giggling. “What? Is it too cheesy?”

“No, it's you being so in character.”

“I did work on a drama once. I guess you can say I'm an actor,” he kissed beneath your ear, “Do you want me to dial back the realness?”

“A bit.”

“Alright. Time in?”

“Time in.”

Returning to his character, Yunho took your arm and started dragging you to his room. Your heart started racing, a breath catching in your throat at the sudden roughness in him. He brought you into his room, slamming the door behind him and threw you onto his bed.

“Yunho!” You exclaimed before he forced himself on top of you. “Yunho, stop it!”

“No,” he grunted, taking hold of both your wrists. “You're my girlfriend. You're supposed to fuck me whenever I want, and right now, I want it.”

“Yunho, please!” You added a whimper at the end as you let him take your wrists.

He grabbed a belt from beside you and wrapped it around your wrists. You still wriggled beneath him as if trying to escape, but you made no real escape attempt. The adrenaline sent blood rushing to your core. Every single nerve in your body tingled each time his body brushed against yours. Holding down your arms, Yunho kissed you deeply again and grinded into you. His hardon pressed lightly against your thigh each time, and he followed it with a soft groan. You let out more whining, even turning your head before he grabbed your chin to roughly kiss you. One hand putting your hands onto a hook on the headboard, the other slid up your body to your breast for a soft squeeze. Unable to free your arms, you could do nothing but move around as Yunho kissed and caressed your body. Large, warm hands slid up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through your shirt.

“Give me clothes you don't care about. I want to rip them off you.”

You'd left an old tank top, shorts, and underwear in his bedroom last night. When you got them this morning, you saw he'd made small slits in each piece to rip them easier. He'd cut into the tank top by the neckline, which he took a hold of now. He stayed on top of you, grabbing your tits while he continued grinding into you. You never realized how much stronger Yunho is compared to the other members. Mingi, Jongho, San and Yeosang worked out often, so you expected it, but Yunho had size on his side. He kept you firmly pinned even with the belt and hook aiding him, and he made sure your hips did not move too much.

“I don't know why you bother with clothes,” he grumbled, “Whores don't need clothes.”

You yelped when the sound of ripping fabric followed, exposing your bare chest to him. Hungrily, Yunho took one nipple in his mouth to suck while his other hand pinched the opposite side. He continued grinding into you, groaning softly. You loved how you could feel his dick through his pants, hard and pulsing in his boxers and into your center.

“Yunho, please stop,” you cried, giving a sniff. “Please, don't do this.”

“Shut up,” he growled, kissing further down your body.

“Please-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, slut,” he repeated firmly, slapping your cheek lightly. “You don't speak again unless I speak to you first, got it?”

“Yes,” you sniffled, pouting and giving him doe eyes.

“Sit up.”

He helped you into a sitting position where your mouth came to level with his crotch. With a swift tug of his waistband, his semi-hardon stood inches from your face. Yunho removed his shirt, and you took in his lean form. Not as defined as the others, you still wanted to kiss and feel every inch of him. Yet, despite your clit pulsing from the sight, you pretended to push back and away from him. Shaking your head, you purse your lips as Yunho brought your head back into position. When you didn’t immediately open your mouth, Yunho pinched your nose and slapped his tip against your lips. The light tapping combined with the instinct to breathe caused you to gasp. A gasp that Yunho instantly snuffed out with his dick. Grasping your hair, he kept you in place while he smoothly went in and out of your mouth. You continued whimpering and trying to get away, but not too hard. Yunho’s pulsating cock slid over your tongue, and tempted you into touching yourself. You heard his haggard breathing getting heavier, moans starting to escape him as he stared down at you. Soon, Yunho was thrusting himself into your throat. Your humming vibrated around his tip, and he chuckled.

“That’s right,” he said through gritted teeth, “Hum around my cock. Go ahead. I know how much you like it.”

You gave a fake sob as he started gagging you. Each deep thrust ended with you gulping and gasping when he pulled off you. Thin streams connected your lips to his tip, and Yunho used this connection to smear himself on your chin and cheeks. Both hands on your head, Yunho forced you to the hilt and stayed there at least a few seconds at a time.

“Yunho, stop,” you coughed, “It…It hurts.”

“It doesn’t seem to hurt when Seonghwa does it,” he grunted, “So take it.”

You hadn’t said ‘buttercup’ again, so Yunho did not stop. Purposefully, you didn’t hollow in your cheeks to suck him. When he saw you simply keeping your mouth open he scoffed.

“No, no, no, suck it,” he ordered, pushing himself into your throat. When you didn’t suck, he poked his tip to your cheek and slapped it. “Suck it right, slut,” he slapped you again, the sting mixing with the ache in your throat. “Don’t act like you’ve never sucked dick before. Hollow out those cheeks and-Fuck, yes, like that.”

Whimpering, you started sucking him properly. This made him give your throat a break and focus on rubbing himself on your tongue and lips. You wriggled around on the bed as your own arousal started throbbing between your thighs. A bundle of his sheets against your sex tempted you into grinding against his mattress, eager for a form of relief. Yet, you knew you’re meant to not want this, so you kept yourself firmly planted on the bed. Yunho chuckled through a groan.

“Look at you,” he mocked, smacking your cheek again as he pushed against your inner cheek. “Filthy, dumb slut getting turned on by me using her mouth.” When you let out a muffled wail, he plunged deep into your throat again, “Don’t act like you don’t like it. It’s what you’re paid to do. I’m only taking what I pay good money for.”

He kept you planted there as he started fucking your mouth roughly. A slight pain burned in your throat after a while, making your eyes swim with tears that came down your cheeks. The cheap mascara and eyeliner you’d applied colored the tears with black, a look Yunho asked for specifically. Your clit throbbed while your walls clenched for something to grab onto; your nipples tingled and hardened from imaging his mouth and hands on them. Yunho, seeing your nipples erect, reached down for one as he continued abusing your mouth. Index and thumb fingers rolled it in between them, the twinge of pain adding to the burning pleasure. Sharp slaps to them every so often made you whine around the cock ravaging your mouth.

Without a word, he pulled you off him and pushed you back onto the pillows. “I know exactly what to do with these,” he huffed, reaching into a box beside the bed.

You laid there, coughing and clearing your aching throat, as he shifted through a selection of toys, unable to keep yourself from wriggling around underneath him. When he withdrew a chain of nipple clamps, you widened your eyes and shook your head. While the sight of them usually excited you, you pretended to fear it as you struggled to get away from Yunho. This only made him hook your bound wrists back to his headboard. Straddling your thighs, Yunho bent down and greedily sucked one of your nipples. He cupped and squeezed while teasing the sensitive peaks with his tongue.

“Yunho-ah,” you cried, sniffling and shaking your head, “Please, stop it.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, spanking one of your tits for emphasis.

“Yunho, please don’t put those. They hurt a lot-”

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck? Shut. Up. And. Take. It.”

His meanness only turned you on more. You watched him prepare you for the clamps and purposefully moved around to make your breasts jiggle. Yunho looked over at you for a moment. You saw him admiring your hands tied to the headboard, seeing the drool and tears left on your face. You pouted, giving him a pleading look that made his jaw drop. He wanted you to be pathetically helpless against his big, strong body. He wanted you pleading for mercy and saying ‘no’ until the very end. He bent down over you again, pecking your lips softly and nuzzling your nose gently. Neither of you said anything, but you still sniffled and whimpered as he went back to sucking and biting your nipples. You often tried keeping whichever breast he chose from his mouth before he grabbed them harshly and kept you in place. The clamps brought a never ending wave of pleasure that you forced yourself to restrain.

“Just as pretty as I thought,” he gave a self-satisfied smile as the chain pulled your nipples. He slapped the sides to see them bounce against his hands, “They’re prettier covered in loads of cum.”

“Yunho-”

He roughly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks to keep you quiet, “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? How many times do I have to say it?”

“Yunho,” you sobbed.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” he scoffed. Going back to the box, he took out a dildo-gag. Only a few inches, it wouldn’t go to your throat but it’d certainly keep you quiet. “Open up.”

You shook your head, rolling your lips closed.

“I said ‘open up’, slut.”

He pinched your nose again, and you tried holding your breath as long as possible until you gave in. The second your mouth opened, the gag went inside. He strapped it securely behind your head, enough to keep it from coming loose but not so tight it truly hurt you.

“There,” he said, “Maybe now you’ll finally shut up. You’re prettier when you’re not talking.”

The toy in your mouth caused saliva to build up around it, which you tried swallowing down to keep it from coming out. That didn’t prepare you for what he did next: Yunho went further down your body to your shorts. He roughly and hurriedly tugged them off you, and groaned at the sight of your wet panties. Your pussy ached when he heatedly tore them enough to reveal your sex and ass, the cheap fabric hanging by the elastic bands. When you tried closing your legs, he forced them back apart and sat between your thighs to keep you spread out. Your heart started racing in anticipation, sensing his hard cock close to your dripping sex, and expected him to go inside right away. But no. Yunho planned to drag this out.

Lifting your legs up by the ankles, he pressed your knees to your chest and swatted your bare pussy. The stinging pain added to the clamps on your nipples, and you thought you might cum if he continued spanking you. Yunho’s quick, hard slaps teased your exposed clit, the brief touch sliding across your pussy each time his hand came down. Seeing you trembling on the bed, Yunho stopped spanking and rubbed your sore lips gently.

“I know you’re not about to cum,” he said, a threat in his voice. “I know you’re not about to cum before me. I didn’t say anything about you getting to cum first.” He spit right on it, swirling it around slowly, “No, no, no. We’ve told you before that a proper slut would let us cum first. This is for my pleasure, not yours,” he slapped your pussy particularly hard to which you gave a muffled cry, “I don’t pay you to have orgasms. I pay you to give me orgasms.”

You attempted to plead, but your gag kept you quiet.

“What’s that?” he cocked his head to hear you, “You’re going to be a good toy and let me fuck you however I like? Hm, that’s good to know.” He laughed when you reverently shook your head, “Oh, you know you love it. Your pussy certainly loves it.”

He grabbed his dick and started tapping it against your pussy. The teasing motion stirred the pot boiling inside you. You could feel your orgasm slowly rolling to the front, about to explode right onto his wet tip until he’d stop. When you’d calm down, he’d go right back to teasing his length against your pussy. It became absolute torture. If you ever stopped being wet enough, he’d spit right where you both met to keep you slick enough for him. You took the moment to watch his body tense up at the flickers of pleasure grinding into you gave him. One hand gripping your thigh, the other made sure his dick moved exactly how he knew it’d weaken you. You saw the veins in his hands from the pressure, and wanted them inside you. You wanted them knuckle-deep, pushing in and out and wiggling deep within. His fingers always looked better around your throat or stuffed in your holes. But, he didn’t use his fingers. Not once.

When he finally did enter you, he gasped in surprise. “Oh no,” he said, smoothly gliding in and out of you, “Looks like I forgot a condom.”

Another thing you’d both discussed and cleared on before starting.

“No, don’t do that,” you tried saying through the gag. “Don’t cum in me.”

“Huh? What?” he cupped his ear, starting to rub your clit with his thumb so you mewled loudly. “You want me to cum in you?”

“No! Don't!”

“I bet you do,” he started pumping in and out of you faster, “I bet you love when Hongjoong fills you with cum every night. I’m surprised you’re not pregnant already with all the times he’s creamed your little pie.” He took hold of your thighs and kept them spread further apart. “But, don’t worry. I’ll cum in you,” he sneered, “Maybe I’ll leave you here and call the other members so they can fill up your pussy too. You’ll be so full of it, we’d have to take you to the clinic the next day,” he laughed.

The idea of him taking his own fantasy a step further had your thighs quaking in his grasp. Yunho kept the same steady pace throughout, only stopping when he sensed your orgasm drawing near again. A cocktail of pain and pleasure once again filled your insides, and you realized how much you enjoyed it. You liked mean Yunho. He exhibited a sadistic desire to bring you close to an orgasm, only to deny it to you at the last second. Your disappointed and frustrated whimpers delighted him, usually resulting in him taunting you as he pounded his hips into yours a few times. He meant it when he said he’d be merciless. He proved it when he flipped you onto your front, lifted your head up by your hair, and started pounding your pussy relentlessly. Any plea or cry you gave went unheard underneath the sounds of his skin slapping yours. When the bed banged against the wall, you thought that usual shyness might come out, but it only encouraged him further.

“Please, please, please,” you cried through your gag, tears watering your eyes again. “Please stop. It hurts so much.”

“Shut up,” he growled, tugging your hair and thrusting faster. “Shut up and take my cock.”

“Yunho-”

“I said ‘shut up’, bitch.” He pushed your face into the pillow, the dildo going further into your mouth and silencing you right away. “Fuck toys don’t talk.”

You sobbed into the pillow, your nose poking out enough for you to breathe. Your eyes rolled back right as his tip started pushing your g-spot. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge once more. You thought you’d go insane from the feeling alone. You felt nothing but the desperation growing inside you. The need to meet his hips with yours, the need to be clenching and squeezing him through an orgasm became far too deep. You lost all sense. The only thing you focused on was pretending to squirm out of Yunho’s strong grip.

What pushed you the closest was when Yunho’s moans became breathy and erratic. By his tightened grasp, his feverish thrusts and incoherent streams of curses, you knew he’d finish soon. You clenched him tightly, which made him quicken his pace. Soon, a distinct hot sensation spilled inside you and you almost came with him. Yunho continued going until he pumped every last drop inside you. Quivering, your body tensed up in effort to stay on the edge.

“Tak-Take it,” he groaned, huffing as he squeezed out a few more drops, “It’s the least you can do after…after rejecting me…”

The second he withdrew from you, you weakly scrambled away from him.

“And where do you think you’re going, huh?”

He roughly pulled you back into his grasp. Restricting your arms with one of his, he parted your legs with his knee and started rubbing your sex again. The tips of his fingers rapidly gliding over your clit had you trembling and clutching Yunho’s arms. Your body caved into itself, a burning tightness building the longer he kept you in his grasp. You tried closing your thighs together and moving from his hand, but he only forced them further apart and went faster.

“That’s it,” he said in your ear, still toying with your clit despite the sensitivity settling in, “Cum all over yourself like the pathetic slut you are. Go ahead. Do it.”

You shook your head as if keeping yourself from giving into his demands.

“You know you want to,” he said, stopping to bring your knee further up and then continuing, “You wanted to a little bit ago. Am I not good enough for you to cum for? Huh?”

You put your hands on his wrist, trying to move his hand away but not doing a good job of it. This time, he didn’t do anything else. He only rubbed; his fingers caused his warm cum to mix with your juices, getting the mess everywhere, but you didn’t care. You came in seconds. The blinding climax made every muscle in your body seize up, and you screamed around the dildo in your mouth. You could do nothing but lay there as Yunho teased an orgasm out of you. Being completely at his mercy, tied up and clamped, you laid there and came hard until the very end.

When you finally finished, you desperately chased whatever bit of air you could get through your nose. It wasn’t until Yunho undid the gag that you sucked in more air. Keeping you in his arms, Yunho carefully unbuckled his belt from your wrists and tenderly rubbed them for you. He peppered the side of your face with soft, brief kisses as he gingerly removed the clamps to rub your sore nipples. The two of you laid there in the afterglow of this new experience, content to listen to each other’s breathing gradually steady over time. You stayed still when he started wiping the mess from you with a wet cloth, drying it for you right after. A shower or bath would be for later. Neither of you felt up to it at the moment.

“Did you like it?” he asked in the silence, not having moved an inch away from you. “Was I too rough? Not rough enough? I didn’t want to overdo it with you.”

You shook your head, “I really liked it, actually.”

“You liked it, huh?” he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Even when I hit you?”

“Yes,” your cheeks grew warm from the confession. “I’ve never seen you that way before.” You turned over to face him, remaining in his arms still, “It really turned me on.” Talking made you realize your throat did itch slightly. You’d need some tea to soothe it at least.

“Oh?” he lifted your leg to his waist and put his arm around you, “Maybe I should be mean in bed more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” You then asked, “Was I…I don’t know how to say it…Fighting back enough? I didn’t want to make you think I really wasn’t into it, but I know you wanted me to kind of fight back.”

“You were perfect, babe. It was exactly like I imagined,” he insisted, kissing you softly. “Thank you,” he said, moving hair from your face, “For doing this with me. I thought it might scare you or you would see me differently when I asked you.”

“Never,” you assured him, clearing your throat. “I’ll admit I was surprised by it at first, but it was something new for us to explore.” You chuckled again, which bothered your throat, “But I did think you getting so into it was funny at first.”

“I wanted to do it right,” he laughed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” you coughed. “You wouldn’t have disappointed me. We would’ve just had normal sex or no sex or whatever we both felt like doing.”

“Oh, baby,” Yunho immediately perked up, “Your throat. It must hurt. Is it really bad? I shouldn’t have done it so much.”

“It itches a bit.”

“I’ll make you some tea then,” he peeled himself away from you and sat up. Ruffling his hair, he reached for his boxers on the floor and said, “And an ice pack too?”

“Yes, please.”

You knew once you really started moving around, you’d know which parts of your body will need to be iced. Yunho gently pecked your lips, then left the bedroom. Sinking further into his bed, you felt yourself drifting to sleep. The events you replayed in your head gave you chills. Nobody looking at Yunho would think he enjoyed such a taboo act; though, you’re not bothered by it at all. A part of you wondered if he'd do it again, since Yeosang won’t be home any time soon.

You’d definitely have no objections.

****

A/N: hey hey friends! Sorry this one took so long. Like with all my current wips, I've been having trouble sticking to one and finishing it. I hope this one makes up for it though! I have a Seonghwa one coming up soon too! always like and reblog, it keeps us going <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho jeong #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #ateex x reader #ot8 x reader #yunho x reader

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

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When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

�� ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

5K notes · View notes

skxllz · 3 months

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𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 + 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who combs their fingers through lucifer's hair during any given chance. they're aware he can be a stressed out, self-pitying man who just needs some sort of release from all the baggage he carries amongst his shoulders. head pets and playing with his hair comforts him <3.

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who often bakes sweets for lucifer's daughter but saves him a few ‘cause he never treats himself. surprising him with little duck-themed sugar cookies always causes the king the clutch a hand to his chest, little beads of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. don't tell anybody, but he's a sucker for your baking :).

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who has the habit of saying ‘ I love you, amor! ’ everytime they leave, or lucifer leaves, a room. it could just be momentarily and yet, it's still said — lucifer adores the act though, and his heart flutters everytime. he's never been reminded so many times of how much he's loved.

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who makes pinky promises with lucifer everytime he tends to get stuck in his head. — “ I'm not going anywhere, luci. ever. ” - “ you promise? ” - “ I promise. ” — he's aware how much pinky promises mean to them, just the act of hooking their fingers around one another is enough to soothe the fallen angel's spirit.

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who convinces lucifer to have father-daughter days to further repair his and charlie's relationship. he was afraid unsure of the idea at first, but was later persuaded once you showed up at his room with the blonde herself, a copy of beauty and the beast, and a promise to shower him in all of the kisses he deserves at a later date. how could he say no to that? — the night ended swell because him and charlie were hugging, babbling, in tears from the movie.

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who spoils lucifer with gifts whenever they can. he's usually the one rewarding others’ with gifts, so to be the one getting presents in return was surely something. it was always worth it in your eyes to see the man you love light up like a christmas tree just from the sight of a brand new tool set to craft his rubber ducks with. he appreciated it very much and couldn't express it enough!

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who makes a mixtape of earth's greatest 70's-80's hits. they were alive during the 90's/2000's and figured good ol’ luce would enjoy songs from two very phenomenal decades! he ends up really enjoying billy joel :).

♡ ⎬ soft! reader who makes a habit out of taking polaroid pictures of lucifer when he isn't paying attention. you keep a photo album of all of the pictures to give them to him on his not birthday! it's not only to build memories, but to show you love and appreciate every aspect of him. — when you do give it to him, he ends up staring at the pictures for a good five minutes before slowly standing up and hugging you. you're stuck with the king of hell clinging to you for the rest of the night, shoulder soaked in tears of thankfulness.

❥❥❥

I could add more but this is all I could think of for now 😅

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer headcanons #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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netherfeildren · 6 days

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FABLE OF THE DOG : 2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol Use; Allusions to Attempted Suicide; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Past Teenage Crush; Yearning and Longing Galore; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: This is a deeply, deeply unserious chapter, and I make no apologies—I was taken away by whimsy!!!!

Apologies however, for the French people slander, I went on a truly heinous date with a oui oui baguette loser last month. I’m still working through my anger.

Word Count: 13.4K

Read on AO3

2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

They appear at the break of dawn, the young man and the boy.

“How many heads’ve you got total?”

Joel appraises him, the fresh-faced look, a boy just crossed over into the cusp of manhood—though he’s large and strong and earnest in the eyes. He’d be a good hire, if not for—

He glances over at the young boy sitting on the bunk’s couch, snickering quietly with Ellie as his brother tries to barter a place for the two of them.

“Near to thirty large about now. We’re fixin’ to breed, but we’re pushin’ our limitations.”

“So you need hands,” he says eagerly.

“We do,” Joel returns slowly, chewing on the mint he’d plucked from out front. His stomach is in knots, has been since—days and days and days ago, last night, and so much worse now. There’s a sick heat settled deep that he doesn’t know how he’ll scourge out and quick.

“Listen, I know it’s unconventional, but—”

“Where’s his parents?” He tips his chin at the boy, and Ellie peers slyly over her shoulder at him. He’ll get hell for this later, he knows, she knows.

“Our momma’s down south—by way of Odessa. She cowboys during the summer too, and—”

Joel sits up in his seat. “Texas?”

“Come on, Texas,” Tommy slinks behind him, sneaking an arm over his shoulder to thump Joel roughly on the chest. “Just say yes.” He lets out a gruff sound masking a cough, fucking Tommy, and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ellie rise from the sofa and leave the bunk quietly with a parting pat on the boy's head.

“You’re from Texas, too?” The young man asks brightly, that look of hope in his eyes that Joel’s about to quash.

“We’re from Austin,” Tommy says from the coffee pot, his mustache spreading wide over a shit-eating grin. “Southerners way up here, we gotta stay united amongst all these Yanks’,” his brother puts on the drawl heavy, and Joel rolls his eyes. Clown.

“Listen, Henry,” he says, trying to turn the conversation back to business. He looks at the boy again, the back of the small head bent and silent and something that could, perhaps, be thought of as guilt pulses through him, but to be honest, there’s so much of that moving about Joel’s system right about now, that it’s just one more drop of poison filling his cup. It doesn’t matter. He needs to do what’s right.

For who? He can’t very well tell yet.

“I’m sure you’re a hard worker, son, and I’d not hesitate to give you a place were we in different circumstances, but I just don’t see how this would work—”

Henry leans forward in his chair too, ready to plead his case, fight for his brother and the generously paying jobs the Kelly’s are famous for. There’s something about the boy newly turned man that reminds Joel of himself. Perhaps during that young and fragile youth of his twenties, when he’d been alone with a newborn baby, trying to figure out the whole world and himself.

“I know it’s unconventional, but he’s a good kid. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and it’d only be for the summer, sir. We head back down for the start of the school year. It’s difficult, but it’s harder for my momma to get work with a kid than it is for me.” He trips over his words with the speed at which he’s spitting them at Joel, trying to convince him, and he knows that the fair thing would be to take them in. To give this man a chance the way Joel had been given one so many years ago, the mercy of safe harbor. But he’s got a finite amount of goodness in him now, he’s got to save it all for only one person. There’s none left for anyone else. And Joel doesn't want trouble, he’s got enough of that around here right about now. “He’s got his books and his summer worksheets, and he knows how to manage on his own while I work. I swear, he won’t be in any sort of way. You can—”

And then, amidst the young strangers' rambling plea, Joel's heart falls through his stomach. Here comes that trouble anyways.

“What’s going on here?” In that soft, lovely voice that haunted his dreams last night.

All the cowboys rise from their seats at the sound of your presence.

From over your shoulder, Joel sees Ellie’s face twisted in a grimace at him, the flash of her middle finger and then her tongue.

“Goddamnit, Ellie,” he growls low.

You look exhausted, eyes red rimmed and swollen—as if you’d been crying all night, and Joel’s tongue is a swollen, poisoned thing in his mouth—a husk of guilt is all he is. He swallows convulsively, trying to find his words, trying to not scream at the thought of being what’s made you cry, trying not to look down the length of you and failing. Silky sleep shorts end way too high up on the long length of those too pretty thighs, an oversized pullover with Yale emblazoned across the front, a little hole at the neck and a large dark stain marr the front of it. You’ve got on a too big robe, dark and plaid, draped over your shoulders with your hair all a mess. He can see Ellie’s trying to pull it into some semblance of a braid behind your back discreetly while you stare at him with those eyes that, and he’s being damn honest now, fucking terrify him. Those puffy, ridiculous tan boots women wear, the impractical ones that become a sogging mess in the snow or wet despite the fact he understands they’re supposed to be worn in winter, are on your feet, two mismatched socks peek out above the tops.

He’s pretty sure one of them has bombs with a capital ‘F’ in the tiny centers printed over it. The other, some sort of Easter bunny carrot print. Absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t help it, he notices it all.

And worst of all, in your grip is that World’s Best Dad mug you’d sent the old fucker for Christmas several years ago, a little holiday fuck you from his best daughter. It’d been one of the years he hadn’t let you come home for the winter break, forced you to spend the holiday alone at that boarding school of yours. The whole ranch had known and whispered about it, and he’d felt embarrassed and offended on your behalf, that they’d all gossiped about the girl you were behind your back when they should’ve respected you for the woman you’d become one day, the one that’d eventually pay all of their earnings.

And the jackass had the audacity to use the mug all the time afterwards. Joel was pretty sure it’d been his favorite.

“We were just wrapping up,” Joel says, clearing his throat, finally finding his voice. It’s almost physically painful to look at you directly in the eyes, and the heat of shame and regret claws its way up his throat at the hollow look he sees there. You’re so angry at him, and he deserves it.

“This is the new Kelly,” Ellie tells Henry, cutting him off, pressing you forward with her hands wrapped around your shoulders. Your shorts are way too short to be in here right now, and Joel feels something else, even hotter than shame, stirring inside him. “If you want work here, this is who you need to talk to. The big boss.”

“Miss Kelly,” Henry says reverently, pulling his cap off to press against his chest. “It’s a mighty fine honor gettin’ to meet you. I was just telling your foreman here,” he motions the cap towards Joel, and he feels like a bear who’s about to rip it out of his grip and stuff it down his throat. Fucking Ellie going and snitching on him. “How me and my brother Henry travel for the summer. I’ve got letters here, I’ve worked at the King before, and have a number your man can call if he needs more references. I’ve got lots of experience and—”

“What will you do with him?” Your gaze is on the little boy, has been the entire time. Joel steps forward and over the back of the couch he sees the kid, Sam, has a comic book in his lap he’s been reading this whole time, while adults who should have no bearing on his life decide what will and will not be for him. “While you work—”

Joel looks back at you, and he knows already what it’ll be.

Henry’s smile is wide and gleaming, putting on the charm. What he doesn’t see, what Joel does, is that bleak sadness in your gaze that he’d put there himself last night. He needs to speak with you, to explain, to make it right between the two of you.

“He’s good at entertaining himself. I promise he won’t be in the way or nothin’. He’s got books and summer work, and he’s learning to play the guitar. He won’t be in the way,” Henry says again.

“What about school?”

“We only travel during the summer. We’re back in Texas for the school year.” And at that, you finally look back at Joel, and his heart shoots from his belly to his throat, ready to be spit up at your feet.

You watch him for a long searing moment, and there's such sadness there. He doesn’t know what would have been better, what would have been the correct recourse, how to make that look go away. To give you what you want? To do what he thinks is right or what should be right? He’d never thought, never considered anything like this. It’s all too much too fast, and he feels suddenly lost and childlike in the face of you and all you stand for.

“They stay,” you say only for Joel.

Henry lets out a whoop of victory, rushing forward to thank you profusely, but Jesse, who’s standing by the door, blocks his rush forward with a hand to his chest before he can get too close to the new boss. You’re for protecting now, above all else, it’s the unspoken word they all suddenly understand keenly.

You stare solemnly at Joel for only a second longer, those sleep sloped doe eyes, before you’re turning without another word.

“He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.”

The cricket song is a symphony of sound around the two of you, and you’re suspended for a second, he sees it come on—a rose hued haze, and then blink-of-an-eye donning a look that spells nothing but disaster. He’s thrown off course by it for a single second, that girl fantasy glow, before you’re launching yourself at him, and then it’s nothing but a soft wet mouth, smoked fruit and fired oak, the slick of your tongue against his bottom lip as you kiss him.

You’re kissing him.

He’s a frozen solid husk, eyes wide open as he stares down at the look on your face—something like agony. The tiny frown between your eyebrows, concentration, and a single diamond tear caught in the web of your lashes, and he can’t help but notice the soft press of your breasts against his chest, you’re not wearing a bra, before he’s shoving you back by the shoulders, scrambling to get as far away from you as quickly as he can.

His back hits the railing before he can get far enough. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits, but can’t help but lick his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting where you’ve just been.

His stomach is suddenly hot.

You swallow convulsively, bleary eyed look turning to hurt, pressing your palm to your belly, twisting your fingers in the fabric of your sweater there. “I don’t— I didn’t—” Your eyelashes flutter shut, closing the hurt, confused look away from him for one blessed second. You press your other palm to your forehead, gripping yourself as if you’re trying to hold your very skin together.

What do you think you’re doing? He enunciates each word like the lash of a whip, and then licks his lips again to soften those same blows for himself.

Something is about to go inexplicably wrong here. Something already has. A tragedy worse than the death of a father

“I just thought that—” You blink your eyes open and they’re wet, and he’s about to bark at you to not fucking cry or he’ll lose it completely, but he swallows it or loses the thought to madness. He feels incomprehensibly insane, inconceivably triggered.

This is like nothing he’d ever imagined, and it tilts him on his axis, skews his vision, headlights blinding you in a dead-on collision.

What are you doing—thinking?

“I— I watched you grow up. I watched you—” You take an anxious step towards him, some word on your lips he can’t even make out because his hearing has gone out, and now he’s all of a sudden deaf in both ears instead of just one. He hardens his voice further. He makes sure you understand. “This is fucking wrong, and you need to get away from me right now,” reversing his movements, taking a threatening step forward, stomping his heavy boot against the floorboards beneath so that you’re jumping, skittering backwards like a frightened little rabbit.

And Joel, the beast, crushing her beneath his foot.

You wrap both of your hands around the delicate column of your throat; he imagines you’re holding in your hurt sounds, and it makes him even angrier.

“Listen to me—” he starts again.

But you cut him off, shaking your head, the confused sleep-look being blinked away so that now it’s spitting fire that is awake and angry in your gaze. “But you didn’t,” you say. “You barely know me. We’re almost strangers.” A scoff, and then switching again to soft, to girl-like, to hurt: “And I’m all grown up now, Joel.”

“I don’t know what you reckon is happenin’ here between us. Or what you think— what you—” He looks away, can’t bear the sight of it, you, fuck, he spits, again, fuck. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but—”

Then in a broken little voice grasping for straws, “But we were born on the same day,” and you say it like a question. Like it should mean more. Like, and he realizes it now, like it means the world.

He turns back to look at you, and he feels full of everything but mercy—too much regret. “And what? What do you think that means? That we’re connected—meant to be?” His voice sounds full of cruelty. “Don’t be delusional. It’s also the day my daughter died. D’you know that?”

A blink. “What?”

“She died on my thirty-fourth birthday.”

Again. “But… Wh—at?” Broken up word, and your chin does a little wobbling dance, jutting this way and that, and you have a dimple in your cheek that comes out when you’re happy, but also when you’re sad. When you’re about to cry. He sees it now, and starkly.

He’s ruining something sacred.

Joel steels himself. “Whatever it is you’ve made up in your mind about us, it’s a fantasy. Something not real that you need to let go of. Are you hearin’ me?”

“I— I think…” You won’t stop blinking, your hands look like they’re about to strangle you, and he steps forward as if to stop you or save you from yourself. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

But instead of saving, “Why would I? Why would I ever tell you that?” He does not want to hurt you, and yet he cannot help it, and Joel wonders if this is how your father felt every time he failed you—like a lesser man. “Wasn’t for you to know—it doesn’t mean the same thing to us.” That day. He makes himself clear: “Whatever child’s fantasy you’re still holding onto, you need to let it go.”

He rushes out of the bunk after you, a growled, you little shit, at Ellie as he passes her.

“Man, what’d you fuckin’ do?” She calls after him in that tone that tells him that of course she knows what’s happened. You two’ve never been able to keep a single thing from each other. Asshole! She shouts at his back as he catches up to your slowly retreating form. Your movements are sluggish, exhausted.

He calls your name and tries to moderate his tone from being as aggressive as he feels right now. “We gotta talk.” He follows after you, hot on your heels and then jumping back like a scared mut when you spin around on your ridiculous boot to face him.

“Speak.” It’s a high-handed tone, that one. One that says he’s the grunt here, and you the queen, that you’d both forgotten it last night, but the battlelines are clearly drawn now. There’ll be no more forgetting.

And it’s all his fault.

“You can’t—” His heart thumps and thumps and thumps like a pitiful thing. “You can’t undermine me in front of the boys like that. There’s a reason I was saying no.”

“Which is?”

“That the kid’ll be in the way.”

And you flinch and Joel prays for a gun to the back of the skull. Fucking Christ, but this is difficult.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gruffs. “You know what I mean. This is hard work we do here. I don’t want the kid gettin’ hurt, I don’t want to be responsible for that. What goes on here is on me. The people who get hurt, it’s all on me, and I take that responsibility damn serious.”

You tilt your head at him in that queer, inspecting way of yours. The one he’d watched you pull like a weapon against your father so many times. He finds he hates it now, detests it, being wielded against himself. You ignore his words, “What was your arrangement here—with him? How did this work with the ranch?”

There has been that thought always, and obviously, of you as something higher, that symbol of the family or the safe haven this place has been for Joel. The not-respect he had for your father, but surely the understanding—you've always been all wrapped up in that. He's at times felt grateful for your existence, perhaps, in ways. That something as good, as better, as you could exist in the same world Joel exists in. Perhaps he’d admired you in ways, even as a young girl, for your goodness, your sincerity. But he finds now, at this look of disdain you’re wearing against him, that he hates the feeling of being less than you, of not being good enough to even stand in your presence.

He’s done wrong, marred it all in ugliness. He’s put himself in this position somehow, by hurting you, by confusing you, by wanting—

“I do what I need to, what the ranch needs. Whatever decision I need to make, I call it and it’s on me. Monthly reports to him and that was it. He understood that what happens out here is different to what can be told and sometimes you can’t plan for certain shit. He focused on the business, I focus on the ranch.”

By wanting what?

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a long sip, humming. It’s all a taunt. Joel realizes, suddenly, and with painful clarity, that this has all been a grave miscalculation on his part.

As uncomfortable as it is for even him to admit, you are, and undeservedly, a person used to not being wanted, used to rejection. Joel understands this with the quick fire blink of an eye. And he has, in his shock, or— or… he doesn't know—instantaneous awakening—unintentionally alienated you, made an enemy.

I see, you murmur quietly coupled with a bitter cough of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like the sweet sound he’s used to hearing from you. Yes, a very bad mistake has been made indeed. “Well, you’re practically king here, aren’t you then? Quite the partnership the two of you had.” You smile wide, all bright teeth.

The coffee sloshes in the mug held in your unsteady hand, and he worries there’s something stronger in there too.

“Not at all. I’m just good at what I do.” He shoves fisted hands into his pockets, trying to keep patient. Trying not to throttle you, check your drink for himself.

“And is this how you’d like to continue going forward? I mind my own business, and you do as you please?”

He shakes his head slow, grinds the pulverized mint between his molars, “I want whatever you think’s best. You’re the Kelly now, after all.” You get a look on your face like you don’t like the sound of that at all, and he turns to spit the greens between his teeth, coughing roughly.

“Yeah, I’m sure of that,” you say with teeth bared, and then whipping your head away from him as if you can’t bear the sight of him a second longer. The coffee sloshes the other way, splashing against your wrist. He hopes it’s not burning you. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Joel. You—”

The robe—all of a sudden, saturated by the dark liquid, it grabs his attention. It’s in a plaid print, expensive looking, like something you’d see an older man wearing. A man’s robe? He cocks his head, “Whose robe is that?” Cutting your tirade short.

What? You spit, all sass, his stomach burns, turning to look back at him as if he’s gone idiotic, grown a second head. He feels a little bit like he’s in the process of doing so—wracked with growing pains. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Can you focus, please? I’m trying to have a fight with you right now.” And you scrunch your nose too adorably for him to find anything besides endearing. Certainly not intimidating.

He grunts, displeased.

“I know you don’t want to hear it—”

“Then keep it to yourself.” You turn, continuing on your way up to the house, coffee flies with your spin, boyfriend’s robe whipping out in your wake as he follows like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

A little desperately, like a dog, too. A begging for scraps imitation game he hadn’t intended to play but feels obligated to now, and by his own doing.

“But I want to say—about last night…”

You turn on your heel out of nowhere again, and he stumbles to not rush head first into you, to not touch you.

The look on your face is all heartbreak. “Do you remember—when I was away at school—and I fell off the horse? When I came home with that broken arm and couldn’t get back on and you helped me? Do you remember that, Joel? How you reminded me how I was supposed to do it—”

He coughs, uncomfortable, shifting like that same scared dog. “You remember these things different than I do.” The words feel cowardly spilling from his tongue, but he should be honest. Shouldn’t he?

This is what he should be doing, isn’t it?

“I remember that you were kind. That you cared. That’s what I remember.” Your eyes are glossed again, and now it’s Joel that has to look away.

“I didn’t care. It was my job to serve your father. To do as he’d want me to. It was a responsibility.”

It’s happening again. A tale like any other you’ve too often heard. You know he’s not lying, and yet everything he says feels precariously close to it.

“Why are you being like this?” And you ask it very practically, like you really want to know, like you’ve asked the same sort of question to the same sort of figure before, and so now you’re extremely well practiced, an expert even.

“You remember these things differently. Wrong—That’s not how I meant any of it—whatever you’re thinkin’. It was just a kindness.”

“No, but I— but you…” That’s the point, you want to say, a kindness, but the words stick. You look away again, colored in shame, can’t bear the sight of him. “Maybe you’re right,” you whisper with that very remembered kindness of your lonely childhood thrown back in your face now. “Maybe I do.”

“Listen to me—I’d like for things between us to be— I’m not… I don’t now what to fuckin’ say to you.”

“Honey—” Dina calls from the porch, your father’s assistant, now yours by inheritance, you suppose. “We gotta go soon—gotta get you ready.”

“I have things to do with Dina. I don’t have time for you—for this. Do what you want, run it how you like,” the ranch, “But the kid stays. That’s final.”

You won’t look at him again, you decide. You’ll learn to want a new thing. You’ll learn to love a new thing.

If you had it in you, you’d laugh in his face.

Have you been in love with him? Probably not in any way that could’ve been called mature, it was the girl-fantasy of a neglected child latching on to a man who’d always seemed nothing but steady and kind.

So you’ll learn to grow up now, no choice left in the matter, let the fantasy go.

Despite your desire for debauchery and the three days of bad behavior you’d promised yourself, you’ve got shit to do.

An hour after your ridiculous non-conversation with the ridiculous man, you and Dina are stepping back out into the summer sunshine when your phone rings with a call from another ridiculous man for what promises to surely be another even more ridiculous conversation.

Jacopo.

You’d met through the friend of a friend at the party of someone or another in Monaco. Come from an Italian mother and a French father, you should’ve known he was going to be an arrogant asshole from the get go, but he’d been beautiful and momentarily distracting—things you knew you didn’t really want but told yourself would suffice. Really, all he was, was boring, the same as everyone else, wanting something from you without having to truly return anything in full.

Jacopo the jockey—sounds like a goddamn cartoon.

You liked to call him Jack, like he were the same sort of plebeian he saw all Americans as, and which he absolutely loathed with the sort of passion only an uppity French man could possess.

In the distance, you can see Joel, Frank and Bill propped up against the corral watching as Jesse runs Ellie atop a gorgeous chestnut Quarter. Sometimes she likes to compete, when she can get Joel to stop complaining about it for a second.

Dina makes her way towards them, “Tell them we’ll take the Ghibli,” you call after her to which she throws a thumbs up. At the sound of your voice he peers over his shoulder, finding your eyes immediately, catching there—fish on a burning hook. And then turns full around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the iron grate as you take French boys call, settling in to watch you.

“Hi, Jack, sweetie. How’s it hangin’?”

“I do not know what this means.”

Bore. “What do you want, Jacopo? I’m busy.”

“My love, we must speak. I have heard of your father. You should have call me, I will come to be with you now. Tell me where you are.”

“Why the hell would I want you to come be with me? We broke up. Remember?”

Joel watches you as the French idiot prattles on about how he loves you and how you need him and how the two of you belong together, blah blah. Odious man, you don’t know how you ever let him inside of you.

Across the lawn, he isn’t looking away, and his gaze burns where it touches. You feel—humiliated, hurt, rejected, so angry it’s a physical ache.

Not surprised.

Perhaps in some way, his rejection was what you’d wanted, had been looking for. Perhaps, it was your subconscious search for the easy way out. Because, and really, what else had you thought would happen when you’d thrown yourself at him half drunk? That he’d suddenly stop seeing you as the child he’d known you for always, take you as a woman, want you, fuck you right there on your newly dead father’s front deck?

Ridiculous.

You can’t even think about the birthday—about her. It’s a snipped lifeline, a crushed tether.

“Cherie, I must tell you I am feeling very neglected now by you. You don’t call. You do not love me no longer, or what is the problem?” More nonsense and really, this fuckin’ guy needs a boot in his ass pronto.

And the one still watching you—something even worse. He’s got his mangy brown cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, the one for the ranch, not the lovely dark one for escorting orphans to the funerals of dead fathers, and his jaw works the mint leaves you know he’s got between his teeth, slow and steady. You should hiss at him. Instead, your tummy smolders with heat and butterflies.

Stop looking at me, you horrible man, you want to shout.

Humming and hawing at the annoying voice coming through the phone, you smooth your palm over the silk of your dress. You’d wanted to look nice today, your first Kelly meeting. You wanted to look better than you feel, which is like shit, quite frankly.

There are tiny green paisleys patterned over the deep blue of the dress, a shock of dark red maroon for the cashmere knit of the cardigan tied over your shoulders, and a little silken kerchief wrapped around your throat, something from your mother’s things you’d gone through last night after Joel had ordered you to bed with your tail tucked between your legs and tears in your throat.

Twenty four years later, and your father still had all her things preserved in their bedroom as if she’d only stepped out for the afternoon. A veritable mausoleum right there in your house-not-home.

You’d never even stood a chance.

He watches you begin to pace across the deck, but the look on your face tells him you aren’t quite listening to whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying to you.

The gold and silver bangles that slide around your fine boned wrists jingle a song of temptation. Siren song, bird song, death march, something he’d follow with blind eyes, recognize deaf. And heavy gold and jeweled rings along your fingers that shine almost as bright as the spilled silk of your hair. Swathed in shades of jewel, you’re all woman, done up and ready to go out and devastate.

He doesn’t know how any man could ever look at you and not want you.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be the same from here on out.

“Who’s she talkin’ to?” He asks Dina, tipping his chin over at you. He can hear you raising your voice, something about you fucking French moron, and he doesn’t like the hunch he’s got about who it is.

“Boyfriend,” Dina says while she watches Ellie work the horse with hearts in her eyes.

“Thought he was an ex.”

She peers up at him suspiciously at that, a queer little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards. “Well maybe now that he knows how much she’s worth he’ll be coming back, huh?”

Joel swears all these fuckin’ women are conspiring against him, trying to send him to an early grave. “He steps foot on this ranch, and I’ll shoot him in the goddamn ass.”

She laughs, throwing her head back which inevitably draws Ellie’s attention. “You are literally so dramatic.”

“What’s he bein’ dramatic about now?” Ellie calls from behind, trotting up to the corral edge.

“Ohhh, nothin’. Just Joel being Joel. Right, old man?” Dina bumps her hip against his and he grunts, refusing to be goaded. He’s not being dramatic, it’s his responsibility to take care of you now, to watch over you.

That’s all.

“I’m never dramatic,” he tells them very seriously.

On the porch, the spat reaches a crescendo and they all turn to watch the show.

Why don’t you shove the whole Eiffel Tower up your ass, you fucking dipshit. And don’t you ever call me again!

“Little girl’s got a mouth on her,” Bill murmurs.

Ellie lets out a long whistle. Deserved, Dina adds. On the porch, you let out a strangled little screech, stomping the high heel of your boot as if you’ve got half a mind to throw a fit.

Joel feels hypnotized, speared through the gut.

He wants to know what the ex-boyfriend said. What his name is. Where he’s from and who he is and what he does and how he is and every single thing about him and how it was between the two of you.

He is suddenly desperate to know everything there is to know about you in a way that makes his throat feel swollen with guilt. In a way he didn’t ever think he’d want from you.

All the things you keep close, all the small intimacies that make you this person you are now, that’s what he wants.

You stomp down the steps, making your way towards them, eyes directly on his, and you’re too fucking beautiful for his own good, watching you feels like a sin.

Makes him feel in danger, like prey.

“All men should die,” you yell over.

See.

“I agree,” Dina says cheerfully.

“You know you can have a baby with the junk in your bones from another woman now,” Ellie adds helpfully.

“The junk in your bones?” Joel says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Yeah, like really we don’t even need you for shit anymore.”

“They should all be put in a hole in the ground in the middle of Nebraska and only be let out when a girl wants to bone.”

“To bone—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ellie.”

“I love that idea,” you say, finally coming to stand right before Joel. He swallows hard, stays silent—feels like the cat’s finally caught his tongue.

“Why Nebraska?” Franks asks, puzzled.

He’s got to stop looking at you, he’s got to get away from the sight of your eyes, feels like the colors of you seem to pulse brighter, and he feels it all like a touch against his skin. He turns to look at Ellie over his shoulder and with a huge, shit-eating grin she says, “Cause who the fuck knows where fuckin’ Nebraska is, huh?” Her eyes flash to you and then quickly back to Joel, winking, cheeky, knowing. He feels the noose tighten.

They’re definitely conspiring against him.

The three of you cackle—at his expense.

“Where’re you two headed?” Bill asks with a frown when the three little hyenas settle.

“She’s got a meeting in Jackson,” Dina tells him. “First part’ll be quick—she’s just gotta kick some pushy jackass to the curb and tell him we’re not leasing mineral rights to him no matter how hard he begs or how much money he throws at us. Then…” she trails off, throwing you a worried glance, but your eyes are on the far off mountains now, and Joel watches a shaky swallow pass through your throat.

“Then we’ve got the will reading,” you say.

A sharp ache starts up behind Joel’s left eye, all the easygoing laughter of a few moments ago sucked away with a few words and a single reminder. That you’re not the girl you used to be, laughing and playing with Ellie, that your father is dead, that you have a world of responsibility to face now.

“You shouldn’t have to go all the way into town. They should be comin’ to you here.”

“I want to get out—see his office.”

“S’only been a few days, honey,” Frank says gently. “You should take it easy.”

“Thanks, Frank,” you reach out to squeeze his arm, flush of emotion across the bridge of your nose. “I’m okay, promise.”

Joel takes you in, in full. You’ve got something shimmery swept across the highs of your cheekbones and glossy lips, the fine grain of your skin—pristine like you're made of sugar and everything good in the world. The silky wisps of baby hair at your temples that look softer than anything he’s probably ever touched in his whole life. And you’re so beautiful it almost hurts the eye to look at you, beautiful in a way that makes men cower at the sight, like you’d be the strongest thing in the whole world. But he sees all the rest too. The delicate curves of your shoulders, the fine swoop of your collarbone and the quick-fire beat of your pulse beneath the fragile skin of your throat. There’s fear all around you in a way, a desperate sort of sadness.

He wishes there was more he could do for you, that he could bear the burden of all this entirely in your stead, that he could be all you need and want him to be without having to sacrifice his soul to give it to you.

Your eyes flash back to his, and he worries for a second that you can read his mind.

Behind you, Jesse pulls up with the sleek black of your father’s favorite car. Of course you’d choose this for today, bets you’ll find a way to turn it into a pretzel before the days end.

“Take Jesse with you,” he says low at your back as you turn for the car.

You look over your shoulder at him and his spine throbs. “No.”

Following you around the front of the car, he pulls the door open for you. “You’re not moving around alone anymore. He’s going. Jesse—” he whistles, “You’re going into town with Miss Kelly.”

“Yezzir,” he smiles with the sunny easiness only he possesses.

“Excuse me,” you turn to frown up at him, stomping your foot again, and you’re a little bit of a brat, he’s realizing. “There’s no room in the car for him. He can’t come.”

“He’ll take a truck,” he says, leaving no room for discussion, but then gentles his voice again, “Things are gonna be different now. You’re the Kelly, you can’t go on all gung ho about your new reality. You need taking care of. Can you not fight me on this, please?”

“What I need—”

“Is to be protected.”

You give a delicate little huff through your nose that he finds to be just about the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. “Then it’ll be my choice how and who.”

“It’s easier if you just do as I say.” Grasping, grasping, praying for patience.

“You overbearing d—”

“You’ll be okay meeting this jackoff? Don’t need me to come with you?”

You glower at him.

“I’m bein’ serious with you. I know you’re capable,” he puts his hands out, palms up in a conceding gesture, “But this is new, and there’s no shame in asking for support.”

At that, you get a confused little pinch between your brows, softest rose shaped mouth he’s ever seen—felt—all pursed up, and he thinks it’s wrong now, trying to be sweet to you after last night, looking at you this way and seeing the things he’s seeing. He should stay away, go away forever, find a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to bury himself in like you’d said, but he worries now, and quite desperately really, that he won’t ever be able to leave your side again after all this.

“I have Dina.”

“I know, but—”

“Can you please just… not. I think— I think it’s better if we just steer clear of each other. If I need something,” you look away now, hazy look from last night back in your gaze again, like you’re remembering, like you’re wanting something else he’s not willing, not capable of giving, “I’ll ask for it. Otherwise you can focus on what’s important to you.”

Gut punch.

He soldiers on, can’t help it.

“You feelin’ alright?”

Your eyes flit back to him for a fleeting second and there’s honesty in your gaze now, maybe something extremely vulnerable too, and then shuttering again, looking away again. He’d demand your gaze if he had the right, insist you tell him everything there is to know with just your eyes if you were his.

But really, he’s got no right to ask anything.

So instead, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, praying you don’t say him.

What’s wrong? A laugh and—nothing. Like your father isn’t dead, like he hadn’t hurt you as he had last night, like you’re looking for answers etched into the mountains or the sky. You bring your thumb to your right temple and his own aches in response, digging there for some unseen pain to be gouged out. “Tired—was having bad dreams.” Your voice sounds full of air, and you’ve got a huge emerald on your ring finger, an even larger turquoise stone beside it, other hand is covered in a row of opals—you’re a treasure of a girl, all the way inside and out, and it’s like he’s staring at a work of art, knowing that if he were to touch, it’d all be ruined. Your voice full of air floats in his bad ear and booms out the good one full of forlorn want.

It feels like you’re the only two people left in the whole of Wyoming, standing here together under the sweet sun, maybe the whole world, and he’s ridden in guilt, wants to tell you he’s sorry again, beg or something, and thinks that God should give you the chance to rewind time when you’ve made someone feel this bad without meaning to.

You whisper at the Tetons, and he’s all but forgotten, “I feel a little bit like I’m the real nightmare.”

“You couldn’t ever be, sweetheart,” he tells you and means it with his whole heart.

It’s all agony swimming in your eyes, and if you don’t stop him, he’s going to take you into his arms right here in front of everyone. You need more than protecting, it’s clear, you need caring for, you need loving—the sort of something he can tell you’ve never had in your whole life.

“Ready to go, honey?” Dina calls from the other side of the car, her canoodling with Ellie finally come to a pause.

You’re snapped out of your reverie, looking down at your feet, impractical boots again, these ones sexy and tall and not for his admiring, blinking away the wash of heat that’s bloomed across the bridge of your freckled little nose.

“Did she eat?” He asks Dina over your head.

“Ehhhhh, but I brought a smoothie,” she pulls out a thermos from her large bag and smiles all beaming and large.

“A smoothie ain’t food. Get something else in town.”

“You're so prepared,” Ellie sighs dreamily beside her.

“You’re annoying me,” you grouch at him, tossing your bag into the backseat, sliding into the luxuriously leathered interior as he shuts the door gently behind you, bending down to brace his palms against the open window.

“Drive careful. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re kinda a helicopter mom. You know that, Joel?” Dina tells him with that sweet smile of hers.

“Do not entertain his nonsense,” you snap.

“She’s just grumpy because Vogue France posted a piece on her and the funeral—the heiress to watch, they’ve called her.”

“I don’t know who they think I am—Kendall fucking Roy? This isn’t HBO, it’s my goddamn life.”

“It’s fine, drink your smoothie, here,” Dina soothes.

“I don’t got a clue what any of that means,” Joel says. “And do up your belt,” frowning at you and pulling away just in time when you speed off with half the admonishment still on his tongue

The bar is loud and sweaty and crowded enough there’s room for your spite, which he knows, is all this night out is.

The day had gone from terrible to horrible to heinous, and he’s officially reached his limit now. You’d returned from your late morning in Jackson toting a gray cloud that’d settled over the entire ranch and everyone in it. All work had come to a slow and grinding halt, the mood morose, knowing that the lady of the manor was grieving and angry.

And then a few hours into the evening, you, Ellie, and Dina had spun into the bunk, already giggling on drinks he was certain were too sugary and way too strong to end in anything good. Looking to rile up the boys into heading back to Jackson and finding a bar to terrorize.

And so here he now finds himself, stepping through the door of The Mushroom, ridiculous name for a bar if anyone asked him, eyes searching for the gleam of your hair, that tiny fucking outfit you’d draped yourself in. You were hunting for trouble, to aggravate him, trying to hurt him with your, you’re not invited, Joel—no one wants you to come.

Angry, angry as a spitting fire.

He’d felt like shit about himself and your upset for a second, and then had thought: Well, are you going to cowboy up, Joel? Or just lay here and bleed?

Now, there’s something sick in him that wants more of it, to take everything you’ve got to give, to see how far you can go, to push you just a little bit further too.

A masochist, is what he reckons he might actually be.

He finds Ellie’s bent head whispering into Dina’s ear, giggling and dragging her fingertips up the other girls bare arm, and he feels a thump of fondness for the two—happier than he can say that they’ve finally worked it all out after months of their will-they-won’t-they struggle.

Making his way over to them, he catches Frank in the distance, dancing to the countryfied Abba cover of Chiquitita the local band’s currently playing while Bill stands nearby, serious and menacing, keeping anyone from getting too close to his partner.

No sign of you, and the backs of his knees itch and burn.

“Where is she?” He demands when he reaches Ellie at their place against the bar.

“Oh, dude. She’s gonna be soooo pissed.”

“Where, Ellie?”

Get you anything to drink, sugar? The bartender calls and Joel shakes her away, panic thumping in his gut the longer he doesn’t have eyes on you.

Dina knocks her head towards the end of the L-shaped bar, closest to the throng of dancing patrons, and there in the last seat and partially obscured by someone’s shoulder and ridiculously feathered hat, you sit.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Can you please just leave her alone. She needs to blow some steam off.”

“Yeah, Joel, we’re watching her,” Dina adds, always the peacekeeper.

Or blow someone, Ellie adds in a snicker, and he gives her a death glare. “You need to quit the asshole act,” she tells him, purposefully thunking her beer hard enough on the bartop that some of it sloshes over the lip of the bottle onto his hand braced against the edge.

Real mature.

“Changed my mind,” he tells the bartender when she heads back their way, “Shot of Jameson.”

Beside him, Jesse appears, beer in hand as he leans against the bar to watch you also. “That might just be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my whole life, honest to God,” he sighs wistfully.

Joel sees red—this is just too much. “Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at her,” he snaps.

Ellie snickers knowingly, and Frank and Bill join the group, picking up on the topic of conversation.

“That little girl can drink a grown man under the goddamn table,” Bill says.

“And looks good as hell doing it too—”

“Eyes off, you little shit,” Joel sends a threatening glance at Jesse again.

Ellie ignores them both. “He’s a finance bro or some shit—from New York—here to play cowboy dress up with the group he’s with. Nothing I can’t handle, and you need to cool it and leave or have a drink and let her have fun.”

“She’s vulnerable right now, Ellie—”

“Yeah, you would know.”

Joel’s turn to do the ignoring, “And she needs someone to watch her back.”

“I’m fuckin’ watching it, man. You’re so annoying, and I’ll have you know that—” The fucker’s got a thick lock of your long hair trapped between his probably manicured fucking fingers, smoothing it between his thumb and index and then looping it around and around, drawing you in closer.

Joel’s about to start howling.

You’ve done something to him, knocked something askew inside him, and he needs you to set it back to rights. Let him out of this saw trap he’s been caught in.

The man says something that has you throwing your head back in an overly eager laugh, loud and melodic in the most hypnotizing sort of way, meant to draw the eye or seduce or send his gut to twisting and aching.

Ellie’s saying something about how you need to have fun, how you need to find yourself, and all Joel can think is that he can be the one to give you that, to help you do all that while still making sure you’re alright, taken care of.

Over the wannabe cowboy’s shoulder, he sees your eyes land on him, and you give him one of those serenely beautiful smiles he knows means he’s about to lose his fucking mind and cause a scene.

A provocation of a smile is what it is.

You cross one long leg over the other, a flash of hot pink his eyes can’t help but flash to beneath the obscene hem of your skirt and lean in to whisper something, glossy lips right at his ear, and a tick starts up below Joel’s left eye. The fuckwit pulls you in closer, and you tip into him, hand on his shoulder—your eyes never leave Joel’s, and then you’re pulling him off the barstool and leading him into the throng of dancing people. He’s desperate to know what the back of your hot pink underwear looks like—string of lace wedged between the cleft of your ass, or silk wrapping around the full cheek like a perfect present? The man pulls you into himself, spinning you around, and you’re made up of blues and purples and pinks, shimmering like something that shouldn’t exist here amongst all the rest of them. Slinky little top made of silk like water and sparkles, your cheeks, flushed with drink or heat, but he’ll tell himself it’s because of him, because you’re still angry at him, thinking of him, and it soothes the tempest that’s brewing in his gut.

He spins you towards himself, the man Joel’s about to beat senseless, shooting the Jameson without really tasting anything but the insane jealousy souring to irrational fury on his tongue, it pulses in his throat once, twice, and the fucker tugs you into himself again by a handful of your ass in that too short skirt and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel slams the glass on the bartop, not seeing red anymore, something like dark spots now, he’s so fucking pissed off.

Ellie yelps his name, her and Jesse scrambling after him, but they’re too late and he’s there already, pulling you away, and gently because he might be feeling a little bit like a demon right now, but he knows what you are and how to handle you no matter what—and slams his fist into the fuckers nose, the satisfying crunch of broken bone and a pathetic cry sounds as he hits the sticky bar floor. The people around peer over in nothing more than mild curiosity, this is a cowboy bar after all.

He watches the man for a second, making sure he stays down, and then turns to look at you and isn’t at all surprised when he finds that look of victory on your face.

“Ready to go?” Voice all sweet innocence.

You’re going to kill him.

Spinning around on the toe of your boot, the hem of your little skirt flutters with your movements and he catches a flash of cheek, mystery of your panties still unsolved.

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” Ellie snarks as they pass the group of them.

He chooses to ignore that observation. “Don’t stay out too late. And let Bill drive back.”

Following you out into the night, he tries to take control of himself, to lie away the heat he feels sitting heavy in his stomach.

He wishes he had a mint leaf to pulverize between his molars, he wishes he could pull you over his knee and spank your ass for being such a bad girl. And looming behind you, he knows you’re not even a little bit intimidated by his size as you dance and prance across the parking lot towards his truck.

“I know you’re ticked off because of last night and today, but you can’t lash out just because you’re angry with me.”

All he gets in response is that head-thrown-back wind chime laughter—the real one, which is something.

“You need to stop misbehaving,” he breathes down your neck.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” you singsong.

“Are you drunk?” Refusing to be distracted, he’s going to stand strictly on business, he promises himself.

You spin around again—always catching him off guard and pissing him off—hooking yourself on his shirtfront, pulling yourself into him like you’re trying to dance some fucked up dance he doesn’t know the steps to.

“Not at all.”

“You need to not be touching me right now,” he warns, the threads of his control dangerously close to snapping, walking you backwards without putting his hands on you. Chest to chest, he feels like he could breathe fire if he really set his mind to it.

“Yes, sir,” you say sweetly, dragging your palms down his chest and belly before letting him go, skipping ahead of him, humming an off-key rendition of whatever kitschy, poor excuse for a country song they’d been playing at the end in there.

The even poorer excuse for a skirt bounces along the curve of your ass, driving him fucking mad—he’s goig to have a heart attack, he’s middle aged, he can’t handle this shit anymore—you.

Stop that, he growls.

“God, you don’t like anything—you’re no fun,” you pout.

Coming to the truck, he yanks the door open for you. “Get in the damn truck.” And he makes sure to turn away and not ogle your ass as you hop in, his palm hovering in the vicinity of your elbow if you need him.

The prospect of an hour and a half of the dark drive and the scent of your musky sweet perfume and sweat soaked skin has his heart pounding. When he pulls his door open, you’re turned in your seat expectantly waiting for him, folded knees up on the seat and pink triangle right there to taunt him.

“Sit right—put on your seatbelt.”

“You’re so bossy.” An exaggerated sigh and your voice is so fucking sassy, a tiny bit of a needy whine threaded through it, he feels his patience snap.

Grabbing hold of your damp cheeks he squeezes hard enough to force your full mouth into a pout and giving your head a little shake he says, “And you need managing, little girl. Put your fucking belt on, or I’ll put it on for you.”

Eyes all pupil and gone blurry, you lick your lips and he can smell the sweet fruit scent of your breath. He groans, pushing you back—mistake, mistake, putting his hands on you at all—and peels out of the parking lot, and he is not hard in his jeans for you.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask after several moments of forced silence.

“No.”

“Not even for last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it either.”

“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”

Jesus, he mutters. “There’s nothing to discuss—already told you what I think and how it’s going to be and that’s final. You need to let it go, you hear me?”

You give a little groaning screech through your clenched teeth, turning away from him, still not wearing your goddamn seatbelt, never doing as he says.

Toeing your boots off roughly, the little skirt hitches high enough on your thighs he catches a glimpse of the smooth glowing skin of your hip, eyes trying to watch the road and your thighs at the same time.

“You’re horrible,” you say through a grimace, but your voice cracks a little bit at the end, and you’ve still got your face turned away so that he can’t tell if he’s made you cry or not now.

“Are you cryin’?” He demands.

“No,” you sniffle, wiping your cheek on a lifted shoulder

“Yes you are, liar.” Fuck—fuck, fuck.

“Well you’re bein’ mean,” you whine, finally turning to look at him again, and you’re all rose glow, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips red as a cherry.

No man should be tested like this. It’s wrong—unnatural.

He tries to gentle his voice and steady the pounding of his heart, pressing down on the gas, wishing the road would disappear from beneath the tires of the truck and that he could have you home and away from him already. “Not bein’ mean, sweetheart. Just—just…” He sighs, “Goddamnit, just don’t how how to handle you,” he curses, losing the grasp on his gentleness.

“See—you are angry with me!” A tear slips down your cheek, and Joel’s mouth waters.

His heart kicks up another notch, hypnotized, “You make me fuckin’ crazy—is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes.” You turn full in the seat to face him, bent knees against the center console block his view of the apex of your thighs. Fucking Christ.

“Sit right. You’re flashing your bits,” he tries and fails to focus on the road.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I want you to see them, stupid.”

Jesus. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Only one High Noon.”

“The hell is that? And quit lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” Your knees shift against each other, and he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight he feels like he could rip it out of the dash.

“You fuckin’ know like what.”

“Well if you hadn’t been such a cock block earlier, I’d be looking at someone else like this right now.”

And the teasing is too much. The bare legs and the tiny skirt and the hair and the lips and the sound of your voice, the kiss last night replaying in his mind over and over and over again like some lovesick taunt, the look of hurt he’d put on your face and the idea of you bare and slick, taking some other man that isn’t him. It’s too much.

He jerks the truck roughly onto the road shoulder and into the grass, wheels spinning and gravel flying. Joel—you squeal, being jostled in your seat so that all he can see are soft thighs and pretty tits bouncing in his peripheral. He puts the truck in park, ripping his seat belt off, reaching over to tug you roughly forward by the nape, his fingers twisting in your hair in a hold he knows is too hard for something so delicate, his other hand grips below the bend of one knee squeezing hard.

“If you think I’m gonna let you spread your legs for anyone fucking else—” he growls.

“Anyone else?” You laugh in his face, eyes spinning with something a little maniacal.

He thought he’d been worried for his soul, that taking you would be the undoing of everything he’d tried so hard to mend back together after Sarah. And really, he had tried so hard—to be good, to be better, to atone for all he’d not done before her, all he’d done after her. He’d tried to make himself into something that was respectful of her memory and the second chance Kelly had given him.

But right here, and again because anytime he looks at you, is within a mile of your vicinity, it feels like you’re the only two people on the whole goddamn planet, he doesn’t think he really gives a fuck for being good or atoning or souls at all. Not even a little bit.

He follows your lead from last night and kisses you, is sure to take your tongue this time. Forcing his thumb and forefinger between the line of your molars, he presses down hard enough to hurt the baby soft skin, spreading your jaw open wide so that he can lick into your mouth deep and wet. He wants to scare you, cow you, intimidate you into behaving with this hunger that seems to swallow him whole—remind you that he’s let you have your fun thus far, but the both of you know who’s playing games and who’s not.

You let out a shocked little gasp onto his tongue, fingers twisting in the fabric over his shoulder, and he tightens his grip under your knee, tugging you just that little bit further forward, and when he pulls back to look at you, spit slick, swollen mouth and wide eyes, tits about to spill out of your top, you push his face away roughly, dragging your nails down the skin of his cheek with a tiny snarling growl.

Spoiled little brat.

“Don’t be fuckin’ childish,” he snarls back, and pulls you roughly over the console and into his lap.

“I can’t stand you,” you pant, settling above him, coming in to kiss him again, and he can’t deny it anymore. He’s hard as fuck for you.

You moan into his mouth, high and throaty at the same time, girlish little sigh at the end that has him gripping your hip tightly, trying to stop himself from thrusting up against you.

“Can you taste him?” You lick his tongue. “He kinda looked like you, didn’t he? That’s why I chose him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He’s going to stop this now, at any moment. He’s going to push you away and tell you this is wrong and that the two of you can’t do this.

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your tits high against his chest and grinding your lace covered little cunt against his cock.

He groans into your mouth, pushed straight over the edge and free falling, cupping your ass to lift you off of himself a little bit, he just needs a second, before he takes a breath and presses you back down harder, rolling your hips against his lap. Little animal sounds, an ah, ah, ah and an oh, coupled with his mewled name. Cupping the soft of your ass in the palms of his hands, his calluses scrape against silken skin, and you fit him as if he’d dreamt you up just for himself; perfectly lush curves he can squeeze as hard as he wants because you’re not getting away from him now that he’s caught you in his snare. He drags his fingertips up the roundness of your asscheeks, and the mystery’s solved, it’s a thong. Catching the lace between his fingers he pulls the flimsy string upwards and tight against your pussy, a pained moan when he pulls even harder, making sure the fabric digs against your skin.

He knows if he cups you there you’ll be wet for him, for him, no one else but him. Knows he could bend you face first over the console, pull the soaked lace aside and suck on your wet little clit, make you come in his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans.

Joel, Joel, Joel, you hum in a dream voice.

He can feel two little dimples at the low of your back, imagines what they’d look like with his thumbs gripped there as your ass takes his cock.

He can’t say it enough—he feels fucking insane.

“Touch me,” you beg, sliding and pressing against him, long hair like water slipping all over and against him too.

Oh my God, he whisper moans when you spread your knees as wide as the seat allows, rocking your hips in short little hitches against the ridge of his cockhead. He knows your little clit is right there, cunt a knot of indescribable heat against him, and you pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back, hair a tangled curtain. He drags his nails back down your ass hard enough he hopes he’s leaving marks, leaning forward to lick along the salt tracks of your tears, watching you use him.

“Do not fucking come,” he orders. He can’t—he can’t watch you do it and not be inside you when it happens, and the two of you absolutely cannot take this that far.

He pulls your hips up again, forcing your movements still and you huff at him, whining.

“We gotta stop.”

Noooo. “No, Joel. Please,” you cry, trying to pull yourself towards him—your mouth is so swollen—trying to escape his hold and get what you want for yourself.

Grasping at the last vestiges of his sanity, “Fuck— No. No more.” He lifts you off his lap and back into your seat, sitting back to press himself against the door and adjusting the throbbing erection in his jeans, so hard it’s making him a little nauseous. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to stuff his cock inside of you right here and now. He tucks the thick head up under his waistband, trying to find any sort of momentary relief.

There isn’t enough oxygen in this truck. He needs air, space, to taste you.

“Fine,” prim little nose in the air. You stretch one leg out across the console to dangle over his groin and let the other drop to the cab floor. “That’s fine—I’ll just take care of it myself then,” you tease provocatively, fingertips dragging up the inside of your thigh.

He shoots forward to stop your movement, gripping your wrist in a vice—baby bird bones beneath his fist, and you moan at his touch like the little wanton he’s coming to realize you are, writhing in your seat. “Don’t you fucking dare. I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Jokes on you, I’d like that shit,” you sass back, ripping your wrist out of his hold, little socked foot kicking towards his face. He catches it, holding it in his grip and squeezing. “And I don’t really care if you’re not mad at me because I’m mad at you.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” and the mood changes, smolders into something more serious, more honest.

“Why didn’t you go today? The lawyer asked you to—” You’d wanted to find him as soon as you’d gotten home earlier, demand he give you an explanation. Cowardice had won over that desire, and going out to find a drink and a replacement man had seemed the easier alternative.

“Wasn’t my place.” Spreading his thighs wider in his seat to accommodate himself, he presses his hips forward, and you can make out the heft of his cock beneath his jeans—your belly twists all full of heat and bubbles.

“Did you know he was leaving you something?”

He laughs a bitter bark of a laugh. “No—never thought—” the words die in his throat and he stares out the window, lost to the memory of your father. “No, I didn’t think he was leaving me anything before I got the call.”

“It’ll make a good nest egg.”

“Don’t want it.”

He won’t turn to look at you now, and you know that this conversation in the aftermath of touching you shames him.

“You’re taking it. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash fire at you and then flit away. “He had all your banking information, it’s probably already there.”

Fucking Christ, he spits the murmured curse, bracing his elbow against the curve of the steering wheel, cupping his palm over his mouth as if to keep his anger and frustration in. The bulge of his bicep beneath his dark hoodie distracts you for a moment.

You’d spent enough time watching him over the years that you’d learned all the things you knew he tried to hide in plain sight. That gentleness, that patience, that heart—that he is an inconceivably good and honest man. Things that are ultimately impossible to hide.

Your eyes flash to the temple where a gristle of scar tissues is slashed across his skin. The meaning behind a scar like that, coupled with his bad ear and his green eyed photograph—it’s hard to hide. People can always tell when you’ve tried to kill yourself, you know.

Which all goes to say—and you’re quite certain of this—that yes, the two of you are strangers, in ways, but in others, or in your own way, you know this man. You understand his nature. You know he wouldn’t have ever wanted it—that he does not want it and never will. He isn’t the sort of man who’d ever look a million dollars in the eye and feel moved by them.

His humanity means more to him than his life, you’d heard Tommy say about him once to your father when you’d been an eavesdropping little girl. You hadn’t understood at the time, but now you do.

The dark pullover and jeans, incongruously boyish, the scuffed boots—he’s so himself and so fucking hot and you want him so, so badly, and looking at him sitting here now, gorgeous, hair mused by your fingers, and your slick smeared across his jeans—you look down at your own twisted fingers in your lap, a little ashamed now too—and you can’t fathom why or how he’d ever look at you and feel moved by the likes of you either.

You’re ashamed that you’re even angry at him for it at all, resentful of this gift your father has given him when really it is not only resentment, maybe not even truly that at all. More so, it’s a complicated mixing pot of feelings that these two men seem to have always been twisted up into knots together inside of you. Resentful, not because you don’t want him to have it. You want him to have everything he deserves or could ever think to want and more, but perhaps, because this was the final nail in the coffin scrap of proof that your father had cared about him in a very real way that you’d never experienced—in a way that was entirely Oswald Kelly’s own choice and not because of dead mothers or obligation or legacy.

“It’s good he left it for you,” you say gently and mean it.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, looks away, from under the cover of his palm says, “S’not fair to you.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is about you and you deserving this, and I’m glad he gave you your due. He should’ve left more.”

His eyes flutter shut, sighing deeply and shakes his head. “You’ve made me into something I’m not. You need to see that.”

“You’re not some sort of cautionary tale, Joel.”

“You don’t know a thing about it,” voice like he could he angry but is being very careful to remain not. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the reasons why I came here. You should look at me and see nothin’ worthwhile.”

“My father saw something,” you argue. “You let my father see that something. And I do too, no matter what you say, no matter what you do or how hard you push me away; I’m used to it, and you won’t change my mind.”

He gives you a look like you’re hurting him, like your truths hurt him. “We’re goin’ home. This is enough,” he gruffs, pulling the truck into drive again and peeling out of the grassy knoll.

Fight dying in your throat, you feel suddenly exhausted, shivering coldly, belly an ember of unsated lust, your orgasm is tight and wet between your legs and you don��t want to argue or impose yourself on him anymore. You don’t want to feel like you’re imposing yourself now when he’d never made you feel like that before.

The night is a pitch dark blur falling away behind your glazed over eyes, and huddling into yourself against the door, you hide your face away in your shoulder, belly swooping with nausea.

“You drive too fast, I’m dizzy,” you mumble, and he immediately slows, foot easing off the gas.

“You gonna puke?”

“Yes, all over your face.”

“I’m serious, darlin’. Need me to stop?”

“No. I just want to be home,” said in as small a voice as you can manage, hoping he won’t catch your words, and soon he’s turning off into the long drive to the house.

When he pulls to a stop, you scramble to grab your boots before he can say anything else, but he’s unnaturally quick for such a large man, out the door and around the nose of the truck, pulling your own door open before you can even get a single boot on. He pulls them from your grasp, and then tugs you bodily out of your seat, slinging you over his shoulder as if you were some sack of nuisance prone potatoes. You screech, flailing, trying to knee him in the gut, but he bands a strong arm across the backs of your thighs, pinning you in obedient place. “Quit.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You howl, hitting him repeatedly on the ass, trying to wriggle and make his life as difficult as you possibly can.

This man has absolutely no consideration or respect or sense of personal space!

Technically, neither do you—but that’s neither here nor there.

You scream like a hyena, shrill and long and he pinches your ass hard, right at the inner crease of your thigh and ass cheek, too close to your still wet pussy for comfort. “I said quit.”

“Everything alright out here?” You hear Jesse’s voice call from the direction of the bunk, they must’ve beat you two here while you’d been trying to seduce Joel into making you come.

The snap of Joel’s fingers and then, “Mind your own fucking business.”

“You are so rude.”

He bumps you on his shoulder, jostling you on the soft of your belly and making your cunt go even tighter. You hate him. “Quiet, you.”

Letting himself in the dark of your house, he makes his way up the stairs while you hang quietly upside down now, a little astounded, a lot turned on by how strong he is, lugging you all the way upstairs without even a change in his breathing.

But as soon as he steps foot into your bedroom, now set to rights from yesterday’s disaster, you feel the change come on him. The shift and deepening of his breaths, the expanse of his ribs going wide and winglike as he sucks in a big gulp of air. You press your palm flat to the center of his back, feeling the whistle of his breath go in and out of him until he’s slipping you off his shoulder to bounce gently backwards onto your soft bed.

He stands above you for a quiet moment, and you take in the broad shape of him backlit by the moonlight of your open drapes. He’s huge and imposing cast in this darkness, something out of a dream.

Literally—out of your own teenage fantasy dreams.

Has anyone in all the world ever wanted someone as badly as you want him?

You can feel the press of his left knee against the inside of your right one, and you wish he’d put it between your thighs, join you on the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” You reach your fingers out and he tangles his hand with yours and it’s a small victory.

“Yeah.”

“Would you come to my funeral?”

His fingers jolt— “What?”

“If I died.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Tell me that you would—” You tug him forward and he lets himself come, bending over your prone form, braced on one arm and still holding onto your fingers with the other. “—That I wouldn't be alone even there.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Would you?”

“Makes me angry when you say shit like this—as if you don’t believe I’m going to take care of you.”

“Please tell me, Joel. Promise me—” and you reach up to gently touch the scar across his temple.

He goes frozen and understanding. “I’d come,” and you know it costs him something to give in to such an imagining and it makes you all the more grateful for it.

Fingers sliding back into the curls at his temple, silver speckled, you know, you pull him further towards you until he’s close enough to press a softly hot kiss to his mouth. The two of you hold there for a moment, another, another, you can feel the wash of his heavy breathing through his nose, the flutter of his long lashes tangling with yours—you hope he’s searching for you in the dark—and you lift your knee up onto the bed, bending to open yourself to him.

He pulls back, hand shooting to your jaw to grip you tightly in place, breath ragged, animal being hunted.

You smile.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says low.

“Why not?” It’s what you want, you deserve to have what you want. He squeezes your face once, presses another hard, too quick kiss to your mouth and then flips you over onto your belly, turning your skirt up over your ass to expose you. He tugs once on the string of your thong, drawing his finger along the lace wedged between your ass cheeks and then pulls his hand away for a moment before he’s spanking you hard and quick.

Owwww, you whine, hitching your rump towards him, wanting more despite the sting. He bends his head and bites you even harder at the inner corner of your asscheek, teeth digging hard and long enough to leave a mark. You whine again, high and mewling, trying to escape his meanness and he smacks you again on the other cheek.

“Go to bed, little girl. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

And he’s leaving you, broad shouldered form slipping out your bedroom door and leaving you aching and angry to scream into your pillow.

You’re pretty sure you hear his deep laugh before the slam of the door sounds below, and you’re slipping your greedy fingers into the ruined wet of your panties, petting away the ache he’s left.

The late May night is cool, despite the daytime heat, and Ellie shivers in her Carhartt, watching as Joel slips out the back kitchen door of the big house.

“The hell is going on with those two?” Jesse says beside her, pulling long on his beer. The litter of yellow cans around them speaks to his mullish whining that he’d not been able to pull tonight. Sometimes he annoys her, but in that sort of endearing little brother way that makes her want to kick his ass and protect him at the same time.

“Nothin’, they’re fine—just gotta fuck it out.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Naw—just smarter than you, man.”

“They like each other?”

“God, Jesse, you wouldn’t see an obvious thing if it were a tipsy bison barrelin’ towards you full speed in the middle of the day.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he says a little pathetically. Moping men—Ellie really can’t be assed to deal with them all.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to understand. I do—I see all, I know all. You mere mortals wouldn’t understand.”

“S’kinda weird, no? Them two—him bein’ so much older, her bein’…well, you know— her.”

“Nope. Makes perfect sense—they need each other, you see.”

He shrugs, I guess—“You’re fuckin’ weird, too. You know that?”

She takes a swig of her beer now also, hoping the two idiots she loves most in the world, after Dina of course, figure each other out before the whole ranch has to suffer for it too.

“Wrong again, Jesse. Wrong again.”

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#fable of the dog fic #vic fic #joel miller x FMC #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us au #joel miller fanfiction

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missydior · 13 days

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MILK & HONEY ୨୧

♡: slow and peaceful saturdays with the love of your life.

notes: charles leclerc/reader, established relationship, domesticity, fluff, lovey-dovey humour, pet names, lazy make out sessions, use of french phrases.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is my first uploaded piece on my new blog so please, please, please interact, give me feedback, leave a like or anything <3

i listened to ‘la petite fille de la mer’ whilst writing this.

♡ ✧ 。*・.

It is a gentle afternoon in the principality of Monaco: the skies a palette of pale lilac against the quilt of grey clouds in gentle rainfall that lingers with a hint of petrichor, a slow and familiar hustle amongst the streets of smooth stone and Belle Époque architecture where a stray cat wanders her path before disappearing once more into the alcoves of an alley.

After a slow dawn of waking amongst a mess of clean, linen sheets, feathered pillows, and tangled limbs where the heavy, velvet curtains danced serenely in some lovers' waltz, hiding the bedroom in some quiet bask, the both of you enjoyed breakfast over almond croissants, blueberries stolen from one another's plates and your usual café au lait – half a sugar, more milk than deemed necessary, just as Charles knows you love it – before you had walked around the neighbourhood by eleven o'clock to at least feel somewhat productive.

Even when the both of you only wanted to lounge endlessly after returning from Montréal the day before.

Despite finishing 4th and not quite following through in his hopes in securing an awarding podium and a taste of sweet champagne, faced with the recent difficulties of upgrades, he had come to accept and delight in his small succession nonetheless with you by his side, forever proud regardless.

Phones on mute, the rest of society blissfully forgotten and only each other to indulge in, it is pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Hm, you smell nice," By two o'clock – after a light luncheon on the balcony overlooking the beauty of the Côte d'Azur – you are dozing idly about the plush invitation of the sofa, his voice a hushed murmur near the side of your neck where lips ghost over in something close to a kiss when he speaks.

Charles is half-draped over your own figure, though his weight is comfortably balanced by an elbow against a sewn cushion, some kind of Jardin De Fleurs -inspired embroidery made and gifted by your grandmother, with ankles locked about each other and your soft-skinned palm tracing his shoulder through the white linen of his shirt.

For a moment, a quietude settles between you once more and you welcome the entwined curl of his lithe fingers around your own when his hand drifts higher from the inside of your wrist absently like some unspoken 'I love you' before his mouth meets yours.

It is slow and sweet, the kind of kisses you savour in committing to memory each and every time, and he can taste remnants of sweetened milk & honey tea on your breath that is so apparently mundane but equally unique to you alone.

When your head tilts back against the cushions – hair falling about like an angel's halo – and Charles shifts his own body further, closer, above you, his hands come to cradle either side of your lovely face, his thumbs grazing the delicate line of your cheekbones, his nose brushing lightly against the bridge of your own.

He kisses your brow, then the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, and finally your mouth again, all in that order, before breaking away for air.

"What was that for?" Voice hardly a demure whisper, you gaze at him through the veil of your lashes in some lovesick delight where your mouth threatens to curve against a hushed giggle, your own touch idly feeling along the carved line of his jaw like intricate marble where a dusting of five o'clock shadow lingers from a few days' worth. You secretly adore it, how it feels.

Charles smiles – all beautiful, revealed dimples and a glimmer in his eyes that remind of leaves in late August – and brushes a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering about the lines of your visage as if falling in love again, everyday. "For no particular reason, ma chérie, just because I want to."

Then he is leaning down to meet you again just as you welcome the embrace without question, only allowing yourself to melt further into the serenity of some lovesick truth as your arms drape about his shoulders faintly.

"Je pense..." Charles' mouth drifts down from yours slowly in a trail of kisses about your chin in his verbalised albeit quiet musings before lips slant together again and he encourages you to open for him, tasting, feeling, his tongue teasing over yours in a caress, "That I don't need a reason to kiss you."

In some silent, earnest contentment, you agree, because you could never refuse or object to the intimacy of his kisses and touches.

Mouth curving upwards against his, you let your fingertips feel the trimmed, soft hairs at his nape against tousled brunet tresses whilst breathing him in: Ombré Nomade cologne, hints of something akin to cedarwood against raspberry, incense and warm amber, against his natural pheromones. Home.

Feeling the lean muscles against his back through the soft fabric, toying only subtly with the subtle drag of teeth against his plush lower-lip whilst your eyes remain blissfully closed, you meet the faintest resonance of a sound from the back of his throat like a purr when he sucks upon your tongue with the same touch of loving.

"Vous êtes si belle," He sighs the compliments against you in sweet nothings and unabashed confessions, his own touch ghosting over the curves of your waist through the ivory, lace camisole hugging your physique, thumbs fleeting over the jut of your hip-bone before drifting higher once more.

It is when idle strokes are felt over your rib cage that you unconsciously emit a breathless, flushed sound of laughter against him before you can help yourself, instinctively shrinking against the touch whilst earning a look from him as he draws away fractionally with arched brows.

"Ticklish, are we, ma chérie?"

Your mouth parts for a retort or quick dismissal out of bashfulness – even when you know that he already knows too, given the Monégasque has the privilege to know each intimate, secretive and wholehearted truth about you – though the words die on your tongue the moment his fingertips continue their ministrations over your sides.

You cannot stop the serenade of laughter from leaving you, not when you are entirely vulnerable beneath, and a warmth settles in your chest when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile as he continues tickling you.

"Arrêt–" A breathless gasp of imploration, palms that reach to try and draw him away with a shove at his chest though your rosé cheeks hurt from the depth of your raw, honest smiles, "Charles."

Chuckling lowly, the man offers you the respite of mercy as he comes to a halt and kisses the corner of your mouth intimately, instead allowing his hands to feel the curve of your lower-back and the notches of your vertebrae until eyes meet in the peace of the afternoon, otherwise silent save for the lull of Lana del Rey from the kitchenette radio.

"Je t'aime."

He kisses you again and it is rich in his responding, ardent devotion to you, letting the faint remnants of your lipstick smear his own mouth like the prints you leave on hand-written love letters of cursive Française just for him in your diaries, the cashmere throw forgotten about your feet on the other end of the chaise lounge whilst rain continues.

"Je t'aime aussi, pour toujours."

a/n: don't forget to interact and leave a like or comment to spread the love <3

♡ ✧ 。*・.

#୨୧ my works #i love him #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 #f1 #hashtags for the sake of audience </3 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 girls #f1 wag #f1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x Fem! Reader

master list

w/c: 7k

A/N: this chapter is a little bit shorter than the last few but I hope you enjoy it regardless! huge s/o to @blueywrites + @jo-harrington for beta reading and helping me with parts ♥️

tw: 18+ no minors, depression, acts of depression, drinking excessively etc

Granules of brown sugar melt against heaping creamed rolled oats, nestled into the crisp white second hand vitrelle made Corelle brand bowls. The pattern of dainty brown flowers skim around the outer surface, one that Eddie is now rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb.

He had never noticed them before this very moment. The guitar string callouses skid along the cool surface of the bowl. The familiar feel reminded him of the soft skin on your back as he held you while you slept, strumming along your body to the tired tunes of your breathing.

A song he’d listen to forever if he could.

Eddie found himself noticing many new things he hadn't noticed before in the early daylight hours of the morning. He didn’t want to stir you, didn’t want to disrupt the beautiful sleepy angel next to him. Wrapping you tighter against him, pressing light kisses to your hairline, he soaked up the warmth of your skin against him. Drinking in your smooth breathing and matching it to his own.

Fluttering heart beating wildly in his own chest, he can’t believe you are here with him. Last night felt too good to be true. All these months of lonely pining, unsure if you felt the same, only for it to be true that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you.

He was elated, heart overflowing and spewing candy hearts from his eyes and mouth at the weight of your body tucked into him, fitting like a glove against the bend in his arm.

He was head over heels for you.

A wave of assurance washed over him when he woke this morning and found you curled in on yourself, the cotton sheets wrapped tight up under your chin, slack lips open and your eyelashes laid sweetly against your cheeks. A breath of relief leaves his muscles— you’re still here.

The rise and fall of your naked form when he pulled ypu into his side had him breathless upon first opening his eyes this morning. The sunlight basking through peaks in his bedroom curtains and providing enough light for the dust mites to dance their daylight waltz amongst the stuffy air and crowded surfaces in Eddie’s room.

Cotton sheets dipped into your curves. The smooth skin of your cheek pressed into his own chest. The steady whirring noise of your breathing in and out of your nose with your lips closed delicately.

Beautiful. Radiant. A thousand other adjectives he could use to describe you but there was only one he wanted to call you: his.

The toaster erupts with a metallic clunk, bringing him back from his day dreaming and focusing again at the task at hand.

Grabbing a knife from the silverware drawer, he smears cold butter against the warm toast, the knife scraping gently as the warm crusted pockets flood with butter and sweet grape jelly.

He finds himself daydreaming again. He pictures the corner of your lips coated in jelly, he’d reach forward and brush his finger against it, maybe his lips would kiss the crumbs away. You’d giggle at his stupidity and he’d melt like the butter into this toast at your warm smile.

You were perfect. Everything he had wanted and more. And years of being friends, then enemies, then roommates and now lovers. He was giddy, stomach filled with snowflake flurries resembling a winter storm.

He balanced the bowls of oatmeal in large hands, the toast cut in diagonals and stuffed like rabbit ears into the cooked oats. A pep in his step, he practically floated to his room, back to you, snug in his sheets, his pillows. He’s carried by the wings of the butterflies in his stomach.

A tickle on your cheek has your eyelids fluttering slow, the cool feel of unfamiliar sheets twisted by your chin have you jumping in your skin, but the warm velvet voice in your ear whispering good morning greetings and a peck against your ear tames your heart and softens the goosebumps on your skin.

The same calloused palms that held you in a protective manner last night now gently stroke the underside of your chin in a lazy pattern. Up the rounds of your cheeks, and circling the plump of your lips. Eddie’s hands are unusually warm against your skin, the heat from the bowls hot on his palms.

The mattress bends beneath his weight as he sits with one leg on the bed and leans on a hip over you. The bourbon colored ends of his curls sweep feather-like against your bare chest, like the white tufty pappus of a dandelion head.

You titter softly when his lips slide down your neck and blow a softened raspberry against your skin.

“Good morning, baby,” he sighs beneath your ear. The pearls of his teeth graze your neck because he can’t stop smiling. The silk of your hands wrap around his arms, fingers gliding over the carve of his muscles. And your eyes finally flutter open.

A halo of sunlight breaches his frizzy curls and pull every bit of amber from them, his smile cozy and familiar the warmth seeping through you as his blackened honey eyes drink you in.

His eyes trail your sleepy features, caressing your skin with each slow drag across your face. Taking in every inch of you he can.

“Sleep okay?” he purrs gently, planting a rose petal kiss on your lips.

Last night was perfect, everything you had hoped for and more.

You didn’t know sex could be so intimate, so passionate. Feeling how much he cared about you with every kiss, every touch of his molten fingers on your skin. He gave you the love and adoration you had yearned for. And it felt good.

So, so good.

Something that delicious should be enjoyed again and again. An indulgence, a finger swiping into the edge of a frosted cake for temptation deemed too strong. But unlike the taste of frosting melting away on your tongue, craving more and wanting another taste, you couldn’t.

Peering into his eyes, you can see how much he loved you. But the feeling sat sour on your tongue, and burned your belly in a lonely way.

But why?

You could push through this right?

Didn’t you want this?

Want him?

Heart hammering for Eddie, all green flags and sticky love, kicking feet and giddy heated cheeks, but your brain was screaming another sound, ringing bells of unworthiness loud in your ears.

You don’t deserve him.

His love won’t last.

A quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes implants on your lips. Insecurity is evident among them when the twinkle of love is replaced by dark brooding agony. And if Eddie sees it he is blinded to it. So wrapped up in bubbly love for you he thought you hung the stars.

The way his brown eyes are gazing at you hurts your heart. Before hot tears can fall down your cheeks you blink rapidly. Wells of salt stinging in your eyes as you swallow them down.

Answering his question in a hushed almost whisper, you push yourself up on his mattress, clutching the sheet around your chest, suddenly aware of how naked you are. Bare beneath the sheets a once welcomed coziness now feels like shards of glass embedded into your skin.

Your knees tuck up beneath your chest, in a small attempt to shield yourself more from the man you wanted to love but couldn’t.

Eddie is all adoring dimples and pinked cheeks. His voice is laced with flowing sweet words of pleasantries. He places a pillow behind your back, so you can be comfy,.

The act cracking your heart deeper waiting to be split like the thin shell on a peanut m&m.

“I didn’t ask, but do you like oatmeal?”

You’ve never known a single smile burrowing into your soul deeper than his does. But it aches and burns. Nose tingling bringing up another wave of tears, you simply nod, you wipe your eyes hastily with the back of your hand as Eddie turns and grabs the bowls. Oblivious to your turmoil.

He brings the warm bowl of oatmeal to the bed and places it in your hands. Jelly having slid down the toast and snuggling with the brown sugar and oatmeal. Joining you on the bed Eddie sits beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as you sit shoulder to shoulder.

You don’t deserve him.

His love won’t last.

Lead filled arms hold the metal spoon to your lips, a warmth in your mouth that has no taste. For you are not hungry. The beast inside spreading its ferocious wings and sucking any amount of joy from you.

But he said he loved me.

He doesn’t. Don’t fool yourself.

Staring ahead you are trapped in your mind. A hostage to your demons. The sunshine of happiness is replaced with heavy thunderstorm clouds of acidic rain, eating away your insides like maggots on a carcass.

Eddie is talking between mouthfuls of his breakfast but you don’t hear him. The words unable to make sense against your ears as you stir your spoon around and around the bowl. A hypnotizing motion.

Unaware of the state you are in, Eddie is floating high on cloud nine. A pinky cheeked cherub shooting arrows of lust below him. He’s giddy and cheerful, a light of beckoning hope next to your brooding steel trapped mind.

He’s too good for you.

The voices shout louder in your ears and you fight tears away.

Just another notch on his belt, silly Tooty.

Run, before he does.

“Sweetheart?” your breathing is erratic and complacent. Sweat is trickling down your hairline. Wet beads in the space behind your ears and forming on your upper lip.

Run.

Choking down the bile of panic cradled in your throat, you croak a smile. “Sorry, what?”

The rest of breakfast is void of noise besides the ominous clinking of spoons against bowls and the gulping slide of oatmeal down Eddie’s throat. Chewing your toast to humor him you still taste nothing, barely registering your teeth are grinding together against themselves until Eddie asks if you’re alright.

Fine, you lie, easy on your tongue, the forced smile is harder, painful. Settling an unease in your bones that creaks and groans like a worn porch door batting against the frame in a windstorm.

Pulling hard to untuck the sheet from the one corner of Eddie’s bed that didn’t manage to come undone during the passion of last night, you wrap it around you fully, and scoot down the length of his mattress. The walk of shame gown held tight in your grip. Doubling as a shield of comfort around you, a flannel sheet of armor.

Not announcing where you are going in fear of breaking, you scamper from the room, quick feet on the carpet and shivering in the cool air on your shoulders. Eddie’s hot desperate eyes burrowing into your back as you lock the bathroom door.

He’s everywhere in this house, and your mind is suffocating. Lungs punched of any oxygen as you struggle to stand using the knob as a crutch.

What makes you think you’re deserving of his kindness?

The daunting demonic voice laughs mercilessly in your head, bouncing off the pinked brain matter and echoing lol against the hollow marble of your skull, scribbling along it in permanent marker.

Unworthy

Undeserving

Hot tears stream down your cheeks and you shed the cloak of flannel armor, reaching for the silver knob of the shower and turning it to the hottest temperature the small water heater will allow.

The stream of the scalding water sears your back like steak in a skillet, you welcome the burn with open arms.

Thinking of Eddie’s doting and how sweet he was to you made your stomach splinter. All he was doing was exactly what you had hoped for, wished for, stayed up long nights aching for.

But it wasn’t simple.

You were terrified. Scared shitless of his love for you. But you knew Eddie and you knew he loved big, and cared in ways that most people couldn't fathom.

Hot water rolls down the front of your shoulders and flows over your softened nipples, mixed with salty tears.

The tears only stop when there’s a soft knuckled bang on the door.

His endearing voice is small against the closed door, “hey babe?”

You don’t answer. Unable to free your mind from the double hell of feeling inadequate and petrifying anxiety of being loved by someone you can’t love back.

But you do love him.

You always have in one way or another.. even when you shouldn’t have. You did.

But the overwhelming feeling of his affection is too much, you don’t know how to feel, or act. Not as if Chad ever made you feel loved. Somehow the feeling of being loved is almost the same crushing feeling of being choked out.

Because you’re not good enough.

You don’t deserve him.

The bathroom door opens and Eddie’s calm voice breaks through the void. Makes its way through the silent sobs that are causing your body to shake violently.

His shadow is blurred against the shower curtain. Coy hands peel the cream plastic and blue fabric away slightly, opening the threshold to the shower and the steam rolling out, thick in his vision.

“Tooty?”

Back to first names.

Back to the basics.

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was wrong. And he had spent the last ten minutes walking back and forth along the carpet, wracking his brain. Pulling his hair in frustration when tears stung his eyes and collected like puddles in his lashes.

Trying to figure out the solution to a problem he didn’t have the equation for.

No one did.

This was a fight within yourself, solving for x when Eddie barely passed basic algebra. Nobody could fix this.

Broken goods, sold at a discount and marked down.

Trash.

When you don’t answer he says your name a smidge louder. Reaching his fingers out to touch your shoulder and almost breaking on the spot when you coil away from him.

His touch once so protective and undeniably reassuring in your blood now threatens to make you react with bared teeth and steel eyes.

But you refrain, pushing yourself further away from him. Deeper into your sorrows of a life of despair, a valley of dread.

Relentless, Eddie won’t give up easy. His voice is meek and breaking with each cold shoulder of avoidance you offer.

You’re nothing.

“Baby,” he pleads, a tear running down his cheek, collecting in the column of his throat. “Talk to me.”

His cheeks return to normal color, his eyes don’t dance with twinkles, the corners of his mouth turn flat. He's beside himself.

The voices deepens now, roaring loudly like a river. A familiar tone. One that has terrified you for almost a decade, Chad.

You think someone could love you like me? Better than me?

Take it, fucking whore.

Yeah, cry for me.

“No.”

Eddie’s brows turn inward. Concern painting his face. “Tooty?”

Who would want you?

You’re nothing.

A hand on your shoulder makes your spine twinge with icy cold resentment causing you to flinch unexpectedly, shivering away from him. A wounded animal, protecting yourself.

“I said, no!”

When you turn to face him you are met with wet eyes, and the saddest expression you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing.

One that would bury itself in your mind and haunt you at night. More horrifying than a scary movie because it was real, right before your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t give you time to think before he twists his mouth into a question, “what’s going on? What did I do?”

This is not a conversation you want to have. You can’t.

Plain and simple.

“Leave me alone,” you beg, salt in the skinned wound. You turn the water off and shove past him, your warm wet skin sliding against his dry bare chest.

Unlovable

Undeserving Tooty.

The terry fibers of your robe cocoon you in a hug. And you’re reminded of the memories this fabric holds. The first night Eddie had moved in, and him wearing it with pride.

The night he defended you against the twins, when you were piss drink and he wrapped you up tightly to cover you up.

He was a good man.

And you were a bitch.

An unlovable shrewd, forcing someone to open up and then cutting them off because you couldn’t handle the thought of someone loving you when you couldn’t love yourself.

You deserved what Chad did to you.

Eddie is talking a million miles an hour trying to explain himself as you leave him in the bathroom. His throat aches from swallowing back tears and his heart is breaking.

Turning in a swift jerk of your head you face him when he begs you to look at him.

“Please, goddamnit please just talk to me. Help me understand what I did wrong!”

“There’s nothing to understand Eddie! We fucked! So what? No big deal.” It was the biggest lie you’d told yourself. It was a big deal. It meant everything to you, but you couldn’t do this.

He’s stunned, mouth hung open and his pink bottom lip starts to quiver. The same lips that kissed you so delicately and made you cum so hard it was like the Fourth of July behind your eyelids.

Not having any of it, his sadness turns to anger on the drop of a dime, his shaky lip flipped to a snarl, “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you dare turn this around as just some one night stand bullshit.” His eyes search your face for any tell on a sick joke. But he knows you better than that.

He can’t contain the fueling rage inside of him and he almost shouts in your face. “I know what it meant to you!”

“Really?” you voice in a shaky tone, crossing your arms across your chest in a manner that suggests you couldn’t give a single fuck about his feelings, but barely below the surface you were screaming for help. “If you got all the answers then enlighten me.”

His voice is softer, gentler. He timidly reaches out to hold your clothed shoulders, the tips of his fingertips grip them softly, thumbs rubbing small circles. Hoping his touch could bring you back to him, bring back the angel from his dreams and coax you out from this hellish nightmare he had fallen into.

“Don’t act like this baby, please.”

Your head hangs in defeat and you’re ready to give up. A sigh escapes you and he lifts your chin with a ringed finger. He licks his lips and he says the three words you couldn’t hear.

The three small words that confirmed the anxiety in your chest and made your heart crumble. And it kills you.

It kills you to hear the words come from the man you’ve been yearning for.

It kills you to know you won’t ever be able to say them back to him. Even though you’re dying to.

And it kills you to know you don’t deserve to hear those words from him.

His fingers feel like talons against your shoulders and you're caught in his grasp. A hawk swooping to catch a field mouse. You can practically feel the blood pouring from your skin by his nails through the robe. The sharpness squeezing your lungs and attacking your mind.

And like a bullet from a gun, you fire back. With hateful words and a dead tone, fire lit behind your pupils and your caged self inside of them begging to be let out. Begging to be let free and loved by Eddie. Slapping his hands away from you, you pull away from him, your back hitting the wall with a thud, the same wall you leaned on last night when he kissed you for the first time.

The word is final. And so full of venom it feels like poison on your lips.

“Don’t.”

Wounded like an animal he defends himself. His slapped hands are red and stinging as he hangs them limply at his side. He shakes his head and his lips glow with how hard he’s pressing them together.

“Tell me I don’t mean anything to you,” he yells, hurt and unable to contain his building desperate pleas to win you back, “Go ahead! Use your words Tooty. Tell me last night meant nothing to you.”

He’s a fiend for your poisoned drug and you are his dealer, giving him what he wants, directly to his vein of choice. The veil of hatred falling in your vision and coating your stone still features. A single tear welled into your eyes. Falling the exact time you tell him words you knew weren’t at all true.

“It meant nothing to me.”

He chuckles in a hurt tone trying desperately to hide his own tears, a sick smirk of dismay is displayed on his quivering lips. And he’s fighting like hell to stay standing on two feet.

“So now what? Huh?” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, hands on his hips and looking towards the popcorn ceiling, desperately blinking tears back, and once they’re hiding again he nods his head forward, one last attempt to have you break with him. To admit you were lying to yourself.

Crossing his arms he’s trying not to shake with fury and grief. Through gritted teeth he misters up enough courage to ask you something he doesn’t wanna hear the answer to.

“Tell me what you want since you’re so big and brave. Don’t be a coward now sweetheart, tell me what you want.”

You almost vomit on the spot. But choke it down long enough to spill the last lie from your pretty lips.

The nail in the coffin. The big finale.

“I want… you to leave.”

—

JANUARY

It took three hours and all the boys from Corroded Coffin to help Eddie move his things out. He took a few days off from work to get his affairs in order. Filling out the proper paperwork to change his address back to the light blue trailer in Forest Hills for the time being.

You weren’t home when it happened. He had made sure of it.

When you closed your eyes at night you could still hear slam of metal connecting to metal when he slammed his van door and the crunch of ice and snow beneath his van tires as he sped away.

You didn’t cry anymore when Metallica played on the radio. And nobody but you knew that every glass you had owned had been shattered against the front door when you came home to his empty room.

A reality that had your eyes swollen for days.

It took you two weeks to see the envelope on the table. A scrawl of shitty handwriting with your name on it.

Tucked inside the pristine white envelope was more than twenty $100 bills, fresh from the bank. And a small note:

“If you need more let me know,

take care of yourself - Eddie

That night you wept. Clutching onto the handmade shirt Eddie had given you, the night before the concert. The only thing remnant of him living in the house. Not counting the newer jar of pickles in the fridge, like the last— the lid was missing.

Hot tears slid out of your eyes faster than a tub draining. A call to Robin is broken with blubbering hysterics and honking noises of your nose being blown into a wadded Kleenex, and in ten minutes time—she manages to drop everything to come and look after you.

Countless hours slip by of her rubbing your back and even crying along with you, she swore Eddie and you were meant to be. Her words were blankets of comfort on you as she tried her best not to bring him up.

She had promised both Steve and Eddie to not tell you where he was staying, for your own good.

And like the kind hearted friend she was, Robin stayed for a few days. Taking off work and cooking meals for you even though you refused to eat.

On the third day of not eating and refusing to leave your bed, she put a call in to Steve. He was hands on his hips disappointed in you. Lecturing you about how your actions hurt people and how you couldn’t be a brat forever. He threatened to dial the Wheeler’s to have Karen step in.

But you wouldn’t budge.

When Nancy had shown up on a Wednesday morning, she immediately went to work. Making a schedule for you to follow, and taking absolutely no bullshit when you told her you were a grown woman and could deal with things on your own.

When she blacked out Eddie’s name from the calendar, silent tears fell down your cheeks.

Seeing his name brought you both solace and pain. A reminder that you had done this yourself. That he wasn’t coming back. And it was because of you.

You moved with the motions of each day.

Shower

Brushing your teeth

Eating breakfast

Getting ready for work

Going to work

Eating lunch

Working

Driving home

Eating supper

Brush teeth

Bedtime

You sat in silence when you weren’t at work. Finding little to no enjoyment in anything anymore. Avoiding everyone’s calls. Staring at the 4 walls in your bedroom like a prison cell. Eddie’s stupid jar of pickles tucked snuggly between your crossed legs, your supper for weeks now.

The only thing on your mind was him. He stuck with you in everything you did. He was everywhere. You even started drinking orange juice from the jug just like he did.

His laugh. The small giggly one he’d had since boyhood and the deep belly laugh he’d generate when you would roll your eyes at him, all of his teeth showing.

His smile seemed to stretch across the Milky Way. Wide and pearly, ear to ear. His cheeks prickled with deep dimples. Somehow getting cuter with age.

The darkest eyes full of mischief and wonderment. You could get lost in the Wonka chocolate river pooling in his eyes. Changing with his emotions like a mood ring, they gave him away.

—

Corroded Coffin hadn’t played a gig since A Merry Corroded Christmas. Hard to play a show when the lead singer couldn’t pull it together during practices or remember to show up to them.

Steve had stayed up with Eddie the first few nights, talking him off the edge of a violent end he didn’t see a way out of.

He wouldn’t allow himself to forget that night. The passion was cosmic. And he knew you felt it too. Whether or not you would admit you were lying to yourself didn’t interest him.

He was used to rejection.

Used to feeling like he was nothing.

What was breaking him was the ghost of you in his arms. Your sleeping body haunted his dreams, made the demons escape from hell and flood his vision.

When he woke and you weren’t there the pain surfaced tenfold. And no amount of whiskey or Rick’s finest trees would fix it.

The cycle never ending

He cared about you more than he cared about himself.

The day you asked him to leave was a blur. He woke up at Gareth’s apartment a day later, no recollection of how he had gotten there.

Your words etched into his skin like a tattoo.

I want you to leave.

FEBRUARY

Still Loving You by Scorpions is playing on repeat between Nothing Else Matters by Metallica again in the guest house behind the lavish empty pool of Steve Harrington’s new home on Cornwalis St.

Thirty some odd days had passed and Eddie Munson was nowhere near the man he used to be.

Where his skin was once smooth shaven was now replaced by a prickly sparse beard. His once sparkling chocolate eyes were now dull and almost ashen. Dark circles rim his eyes from lack of sleep and poor nutrition, a diet of Marlboros, whiskey and pretzels giving him enough energy to work and come back to the same space he had called home for a few months.

Throwing himself into working long hours at Boom’s he slept very little at night. When he did close his eyes he’d be jarred awake by a nightmare, one he hasn’t had since he was a kid. And he’d lay awake for hours replaying the same day over and over again in his mind.

Each time ending the same way.

Shreds of notebook papers cluttered the floor, each littered with blue and black ink, all different but entirely the same subject: you.

Poems, songs, haikus and even a poorly written sonnet he had attempted while drunk at 2 AM sitting in a lounge chair he had drug out from the pool shed to sit along the edge of the frozen pool cover.

His hair hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Leighanne offered to help comb out the tangles and mats but the burden was too much for him to handle. He denied her kindness, brushing it off with mumbled ‘m fine ’s and don’t worry ‘bout me ’s.

But in reality the thought of another woman’s hands in his hair only made the tears fall harder.

When Eddie first moved in, Steve and Robin were still in the apartment, and Eddie’s things were moved to a storage unit across town.

When the lease was up at the end of January, Robin moved into Vicky’s apartment over Surfer Boy Pizza and Steve purchased a house, along with an expensive diamond ring he would be anticipating on giving to an eager Leighanne, holding off until her birthday for the right time to pop the question.

The Harrington/Buckley apartment was then subleased to Eddie. A sublease that didn’t last more than a week before he was booted out by the landlord for destruction of property when he accidentally started a fire in the kitchen.

He was only trying to replicate your lasagna.

Steve graciously invited Eddie to move in. and Eddie kept to himself for the most part. And on nights when sad music was blaring from the small guest house, Steve knew better than to ask if his friend wanted to play cards or kick back with a few beers.

-T-

January came and went and close to the end of February Josie told you she was cutting everyone’s hours, the salon would no longer be open on the weekends. The envelope Eddie had left for you was thrown into your night stand and you refused to use any of it.

No one in town was hiring for another hairdresser so you opted to driving fifteen miles out of town to find another job.

The job you had gotten was bartending at a rundown shithole bar worse than the Hideout. But the tips were good and your boss was sweet. A pot belly old farmer who only played country classics and served warm beer and peanuts, the shells making curved mountains on the filthy splintered wood floor.

It was refreshing to get out of Hawkins, but most importantly, it was the best chance you had at not running into someone who looked like him.

Your body started to ache at all times, tender in places that never hurt before. Exhaustion thick on your features

Months had passed and you hadn’t seen your friends. Nancy would call every now and then and check in. Jonathan and her were seeing a couples therapist for intimacy issues. She said Mike was hinting at proposing soon to El.

Eddie’s shadow lingered on your skin and you swore you could feel his breath in your ear. Whispering how he loved you.

Some days were better than others, but most days you would get so worked up you would vomit from the pain. Betrayal splayed in your guts. Your mind was working against you.

His teary eyes and hurt expression were all you saw when you closed your eyes. And every night you cried yourself to sleep, cocooned into a pile of too many blankets, dreaming that Eddie was holding you tight against his chest, never leaving…never letting you go.

MARCH

Eddie worked more than twelve hours a day, acting as two full time mechanics with how hard he was throwing himself into projects. Boom, although grateful for Eddie’s help and go-getter attitude, worried about him. Especially when he noticed the other two knot head mechanics he couldn’t afford to fire, helping themselves into his office flipping through personnel files.

“Sean told me he makes more money than me! I was just checking to see how much more you think he’s worth!

Aaron chuckled when Boom tossed him out of the office by his collar.

A secret motive snug on his Copenhagen smile. The Information he was seeking: found and a reward would be granted for his loyalty to a long time friend.

…

“… alright fine, I guess pineapple is pretty good on pizza.”

“Told ya, Harrington, ” licking his lips, Eddie reached into the cardboard box and grabs another slice, the melting cheese stretching for what seemed like miles, “I know good pizza.”

Steve rolls his eyes, taking it easy on his friend who finally is looking like his normal self again after two months of becoming almost unrecognizable.

The sad music didn’t play anymore. And his fingers didn’t bleed from writing songs about you.

He was accepting what happened. Still sad, a little depressed but moving forward with his life.

The date was approaching, Steve knew it and so did Eddie, neither wanted to talk about what he was going to do yet but Steve held his tongue for far too long.

“so.. that Metallica concert is coming up… you still g—”

Before Steve could finish muttering, Eddie was already finishing his sentence, chewing along with his explanation. His fingers twirl the rings on his other hand. A nervous fit settling in his stomach.

“—already sold ‘em. Gonna drop the money I got for them in her mailbox tonight.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his chair, threading fingers through his coiffed hair. “So that’s it huh?”

“So what’s it?” Eddie questioned, nonchalantly standing suddenly from the table with a scratch of the chair's legs against the tiled floor. Throwing his paper plate and napkin away, he stops at the trash can. Doubling back he almost cracks under the scrutiny of Steve’s eyes.

“Steve, she doesn’t wanna be with me, we’ve been over this. I fucked up, came on too strong.”

“I’m sorry man,” Steve apologizes, a drag of his large hands down his face. “I really thought she felt the same way—,” he huffs out a breath, “fuck, we all did!”

A shake of Eddie’s curls silences Steve’s words, the whirring noise in his ears, “I’m fine man, really. I’m gonna keep doing what we said we would all those years ago.”

Walking towards the front door and stomping louder than he should have, Eddie thrusts his arms into his leather jacket, the silk inside cozy along his faded cotton shirt.

His keys are hanging on the little hook by the door, Steve’s decorator thinking of every detail, he lets the brass teeth dig into his palm.

“Even if she hates me Steve,” one hand on the silver doorknob, rings clicking against it in his tight grip, he turns his head and looks into pitiful moss colored eyes, as he delivers the only truth he’s ever known, “I still love her.”

Slamming home the driver’s door to the van and turning his key into the ignition, Skid Row’s I Remember You plays gently through the speakers. Eddie hums along and pats his thumbs against the steering wheel.

It was true he was doing better.

His hair was combed through after using copious amounts of the cheapest conditioner Melvald’s had to offer. And he didn’t need the whiskey anymore to make it through the day.

He yearned to see your face.

Even if it was a glare his way or a raised eyebrow at something stupid he had to say, he’d do just about anything to see it.

Would you be smiling?

Were you happy without him?

He hoped you were doing well, and maybe would want to be friends again.

Turning onto Cherry Lane is pure nostalgia. It had only been a few months but everything looked the same. He felt different and maybe expected everything else to change along with him.

And there it was. Your house.

The house he had lived in, learned life skills he should have learned years ago, and most importantly shared the deepest love he’d ever felt with someone in his life.

The windows were dark, except for a small light in the kitchen, a candle he assumed. The smell of vanilla warmed his nose as he thought of the familiar scent you had kept burning.

The driveway held your car and another he didn’t recognize. By first glance he thought maybe it could be Nancy. But she had just brought her old station wagon into Boom’s last week for a tire rotation.

The license plates on the fancy BMW were not from Hawkins, housing the wrong number for the county on the Indiana plates.

His ears heated with jealousy. Throat closing tight trying to hide a choked sob.

How could you have moved on from him so quickly? The thought of you hooking up with someone while he was practically a dead man walking made him weak in the knees.

A punch to the gut. He had never felt so low in all of his life.

He couldn’t help himself when he jumped out of the van. Foregoing slamming the door. Stomping on cold concrete with shaky legs all the way to the front door. He fumed as he blinked back tears.

He was prepared to make an ass out of himself. He’d announce himself the same way he had when he opened the door the day he has moved in all those months ago.

A loud boisterous, HONEY, I’M HOME

With knuckles raised and his heart hammering in his chest like a bee trapped in a tin can, he was ready to knock.

Ready to see your shocked face with some faceless guy probably with a better job and stupid suits when Eddie’s wild hair and goofy grin was on the other side of the door.

But he is stopped short when a muffled shrill scream vibrates off the walls and finds his ears.

see you in volume 12

🐑 (sacrificial for readmore)

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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fionarara · 1 year

Text

+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off.

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well.

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures.

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage.

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond.

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.”

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important.

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion.

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side.

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace.

The weight of the wait.

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive.

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…”

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music.

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips.

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is.

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you.

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.”

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding.

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his.

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him.

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut.

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming.

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive.

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request.

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way.

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft.

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too.

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water.

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck.

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon.

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation.

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats.

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too.

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh.

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–”

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care.

“Aww, angelll…”

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh…that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer.

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you.

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?”

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you.

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction.

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

. + .

+ link2masterlist .

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 months

Note

Hey just wondering if you still write for tangerine? If you do I was hoping you’d write one about tangerine having to most sweetest and kindest wife and everyone always wondering how could she marry a big grump like him? Like tangerine is on a job and he’s due back in a few days and these men have been sent to kidnap his wife and she sees them infront of her house and goes out asking if they are lost and invites them inside for some tea and makes them lunch and they end up leaving without her because of how sweet she was and tangerine comes back recognising the men leaving the house and his wife waving goodbye to them lol if that makes sense thank you

yes bb, still write for him. this is such a cute and funny idea!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 reader is very mother in this

ROSE-TINTED VIEW.

tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 702

Some people see the worst in others, but not you. You often view the world and those around you through a pair of rose-tinted glasses, only ever seeing the good in everything. Some may call you unrealistic, but you wouldn't call it that - you liked to think of it as optimism. It's something needed within the world, especially to your pessimistic counterpart of a husband.

You were having a home day, chilling and lounging around the house, waiting for Tangerine's return from work when you see a few construction workers appear on your driveway. That wasn't who they were, but you'd never know that.

You see them lingering for a few minutes before you head to the front door and open it. "You guys alright?" you ask, stepping outside and onto the porch. "You lost?"

"No, we're good. Thanks," one of them speaks, exchanging looks with the others.

"Just waiting for our tool van," another adds, slapping his 'co-worker' when he began to whisper.

"Do you want to wait inside? It's going to rain soon, you'll catch a cold," you question, looking up at the sky - gesturing to the approaching grey clouds.

The men whisper amongst themselves, nudging each other with small laughs. "If you don't mind," the first speaks, nodding his 'co-workers' along.

"No, not at all. Come on in," you wave the men over, opening the door wider so they'd all fit past. You close the door behind them and notice the heavy fall of rain. "Just missed it," you chuckle, walking past them and into the kitchen. "Was about to put the kettle on. What can I get you? Teas? Coffees?"

The men exchange a few more glances - a quizzical raise of the brows upon your amiable questions. "Four teas, please, love," one of them speaks.

"I'll put milk and sugar on the table, and you can help yourselves," you gesture to the middle of the dining table in which they all sat around.

You head back into the kitchen, preparing and making cups of tea, grabbing a couple of packs of biscuits to take through. You place the mugs in front of them all - adding milk, sugar and cookies in the centre. The men thank you, smiling courteously at you.

"Can I get you guys something to eat, something fresh? Sandwiches? Oh, I bought a baguette this morning from the market— well, it's actually for my husband, but he won't mind. It'll go lovely with some deli meats. We actually have some in, all fresh from down the road," you offer, heading back into the kitchen. "You know what, I'll just make a big spread, and you can all help yourselves— anything that doesn't get eaten, you can take home."

You make a start on the sandwiches, creating a few different types for them all to graze on - taking in some extra cereal bars, fruits and bags of crisps. You make a sandwich for yourself and pull a chair to sit at the head of the table, talking casually with the strangers at your table.

After a while, the rain began to calm, and the men gathered their things to leave. You handed them small tinfoil parcels with extra food before waving them off, watching them move past Tan's car that was driving up the driveway.

"Who're they?" Tangerine asks as he steps out of his car, staring the van down until it's out of view.

"I don't know, some construction workers," you shrug, opening your arms to him - silently welcoming him home. "Good day?" you ask, pressing a kiss into his cheek.

He hums, seemingly distracted from the dark logoless van. "Did you?" he asks, draping an arm over your shoulder as you walk inside - side hugging you.

"Yes, very good, thanks. Went to the farmer's market this morning— got some pastries, oh and some jams. You'll love them," you smile, wrapping an arm around the middle of his back. "You hungry?" you ask, placing your spare hand over his tummy.

"A little," he softly chuckles, silently admiring your sweetness.

You press another kiss into his cheek, soothing over his dishevelled hair. "You go shower, I'll whip you up something."

psa, don't invite strangers into your home

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fluff

204 notes · View notes

mountttmase · 5 months

Text

Winter Sun - Chapter 1

Note - I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally post this 🙊 it’s honestly one of my favourite things I’ve written and I really hope you love it. I wish I could find the original anon who inspired this but I hope you all love it 🩷 feedback is appreciated as usual 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.6k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

‘Thanks for saving me in there, Mase’ you smiled as you squished yourself in the back of the taxi. Whoever thought it was a good idea to order a 7 seater you had no idea but Mason managed to steady you as the pair of you sat practically in the boot.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s like a jungle in there sometimes, they look like animals on the hunt. Makes my skin crawl’ he laughed, his body turning to face yours slightly in order to give you a bit more room before you slung your legs over his. ‘You alright there’ he chuckled, his warm palm pressing to your thigh but you just gave him an enthusiastic nod.

‘Perfect’ you winked before the car finally jolted forward.

‘You two got enough room back there?’ Ben asked from in front of you, turning in his seat to check on you both before your best friend, and Ben's girlfriend, Carly turned to face you too.

‘Just about’ you laughed before they turned away, leaving you and Mason to talk amongst yourselves.

‘I’ve been meaning to complain to you actually’ Mason started, his hand is travelling down your leg to massage the soft skin of your calf. ‘Why haven’t I received any baked goods delivered to my door recently?’

‘Because I’ve been selling out’ you laughed, catching on to his impressed expression before he shrugged. ‘Christmas is my busiest time of year’

‘Well you need to make me extra then’ he winked, causing you to chuckle. ‘Christmas is over now anyway’

‘Two weeks ago yeah’ you laughed. ‘Don’t worry I’ve made you something extra special for your birthday’

‘Cute’ he laughed but you didn’t miss the subtle bite of his lip. ‘Can’t you still make me some of those Christmas tree brownies? I like those’

‘Thought Christmas was over?’ You told him, brows raised as you tried to use his words against him and you could tell by the twinkle in his eyes he was enjoying your teasing.

‘You know if I could live in your bakery I would but unfortunately I have a job myself’

‘Well that’s just not a good enough excuse really is it?’

‘I guess not. You wanna be my sugar mumma in more ways than one then yeah?’ He joked, causing you to roll your eyes before laughing loudly. The joke was unexpected coming from him, considering you were only friends and he never spoke to you like this but you also knew he was as cheeky as they come and Mason always liked to make a joke about the name of your business no matter how much he told you he loved it.

Sugar Mumma was a concept you’d dreamt up at school. Wanting to put your baking talents and love of sweet treats to good use, you’d always wanted your own bakery and two years ago after lots of grafting and selling your bakes from home, you’d finally been able to open your own shop.

It wasn’t anything huge, but it was yours and you loved it more than anything else.

Mason loved it too by all accounts, in fact the first time you’d ever met him was there. When Carly had first met Ben she took him in a few times to grab some treats for various date nights so you knew him well and around six months into their relationship Ben had bought Mason in so they could pick up her birthday cake.

You remembered that day fondly, you’d been rushed off your feet for most of it. Flushed, sweaty and covered in flour when they’d arrived but you’d blushed at the sight of him. Oh he’s cute you thought, suddenly realising what a state you must have looked but his gentle smile and kind eyes relaxed you.

Mason seemed impressed by everything and his sweet tooth had clearly got the better of him. Not wanting to wait until later for cake he was looking at your basically empty display to try to curb his cravings but all you had to offer him was the last triple chocolate muffin.

You knew they were good, but watching the way his eyes rolled around in his head as he took a bite filled you with satisfaction. The sinful moans and groans pouring from his lips telling you how much he was enjoying it without any words as Ben watched on with mild embarrassment at his friends' antics.

That had been a year ago and it was pretty safe to say you’d all formed a pretty strong bond since then. Mason was alway nipping into your shop to get his sugar fix, in the end striking a deal with you that you’d give him a box of leftover items from that day in exchange for tickets to his games and you’d often be caught leaving them outside his front door with a silly note attached. That was until he’d moved away around five months ago now and you barely got to see him.

You knew he was a bit homesick so you began sending his sweet treats up to him in the post and you still remember how happy and excited he sounded when he called you that first day he’d received them.

You liked Mason, he was fun and kind and just someone who made you feel good when you were around him. You both grew to be great friends as you hung out with Ben and Carly and soon enough as you met more of their friends you had a pretty nice friendship group going even with him being further away.

But you weren’t blind. You knew how attractive he was and you couldn’t lie you had a soft spot for him but you loved the way it was so platonic between you both. He was never over the top with you, if anything he always came across as soft and a little shy. A true gentleman that was never inappropriate with you and you truly treasured having him around.

There had been a weird and unfamiliar tension in the air since he’d stepped in to save you earlier though. You weren’t sure what it was, maybe the alcohol and some new found confidence, but his eyes were focused on your lips constantly when you were talking and the times you did make eye contact, his were dark and sultry.

‘Come on then, Muffin. Let’s get you out’ Mason laughed quietly and you shook your head even though your heart was fluttering.

Muffin.

What had started out as a cute nickname he’d given you after the first treat he’d tried from you had become a small inside joke. You pretended you hated it as you really had at first, but now you’d grown fond of it. The fact he seemed to be using it as more of a term of endearment now made your insides melt every time the name passed his lips but he didn’t need to know that.

You allowed him to help you out of the car, stumbling slightly in your drunken state but he was there to catch you. Hands tightly gripping your waist and you held onto his strong shoulders, laughing into his chest before he turned and bent slightly. You could never seem to say no to this man so you let him help you on his back, arms around his neck as his arms looped around your legs so he could carry you up the drive and into Ben's house.

He was straight into the kitchen, popping you down onto the counter so he could scour Ben's fridge for snacks and you laughed as he absentmindedly wiggled his hips as he assessed his options.

Sober Mason was one of your favourite people, but tipsy Mason was something else. His bleary eyes and dopey smile tugged at your heart strings and you watched on with a fond look as he was seemingly lost in his world. This was the first time you’d seen him like this and the more you were, the softer you were feeling for him.

‘Hey Mase? Why don’t you check in the box on the counter? 'Carly called as everyone started filtering in and you watched him shimmy over to the box of treats you’d bought over earlier in the day.

‘Ooo, muffins’ he giggled, lifting one out before making his way back to you. You watched as he practically shoved half of it into his mouth before offering you some, where you awkwardly managed to take a bite. His eyes were on your lips the whole time, a fond smile playing on his as he watched you intently. ‘Does it ever feel weird eating the stuff you’ve made? I’d imagine it feels like eating your own babies’

You wanted to laugh but you were frozen. The feel of his thumb running under your lip to gently brush away the crumbs made you stop until his eyes were back on yours. Your heart melting at the gesture but also at the crumbs all over his face so you reached out yourself to do the same to him yet the smile on his face made it difficult. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched in his throat at the feel of your fingers though, eyes carefully locking as he took down a nervous gulp before you couldn’t take the intensity of it anymore.

‘You’re a weird drunk, Mase. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve seen you like this’ you commented as he scrunched his nose up at you adorably.

‘Well I like to let my hair down on my birthday but what can I say, I’m a good boy usually’

‘I’m not so sure I believe that’

‘Yeah I don’t think I would either’ he laughed before his hands found your hips and he winked at you seductively.

This Mason was different to any Mason you’d seen before. Wondering where the hell he’d been hiding the extra cheeky and flirty form of himself but you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying it. It had been a while since you’d been paid any male attention and the fact it was coming from someone like Mason was making you giddy.

‘You two coming in?’ Ben suddenly called from the doorway, motioning to where everyone else was in the other room and you watched in fascination as Mason shoved the rest of the muffin in his mouth before nodding.

‘Coming now’ he called, holding a hand out to you to help you down but you shook your head at him.

‘You go, I just need to get my shoes off and I’ll be in’ you told him but his hand was on your thigh instantly.

‘I’ll do it’

‘No Mase-‘

‘I can do it’ he told you sternly and before you could stop him, he was getting down on one knee in front of you so he could rest your foot on his thigh. You weren’t quite sure what he was up to but you felt a shiver roll through you as his fingers trailed down your legs. He must have felt it too, you could see the cocky smile playing on his lips as he delicately traced your skin.

You let him carry on, enjoying his soft touches as your skin tingled in the wake of his fingers before he finally made it to your ankle strap. He was quick to unbuckle it and pull your shoe off before manoeuvring the other leg so he could do the same, your heartbeat quickening with every second that was passing and as soon as your other shoe was off his eyes were on yours.

You were frozen under his seductive gaze, unsure of what to do next as his fingers gripped your ankle but even in your wildest dreams you couldn’t have foreseen him breaking eye contact so he could place a small kiss to the inside of your calf.

It was like the wind was knocked out of you, but you didn’t have time to react properly. He was up on his feet again, hands on your waist so he could help you down but you felt yourself wobble slightly as you hit the floor. Thankfully Mason's hands were still on you to steady you and you shot him a small smile that he returned as you ran your hands up his arms to grip his biceps.

‘Thank you’ you whispered, making Mason smile as he bit his lip to try and suppress it. You couldn’t take your eyes off of each other, trapped in a trance until the booming sound of Ben calling for Mason made you flinch.

‘Mase! Get in here!’ He bellowed, causing Mason to playfully roll his eyes at you before nodding his head in the direction of the living room.

‘You coming?’

‘Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec’ you told him and with one final squeeze of your waist he was gone.

Where the hell has this boy been hiding? You thought to yourself. Mason had always been a little cheeky but this was something else. He was sexy and alluring in a way you’d never seen him be before. You could feel the atmosphere between you becoming thick and electric but you were unsure about what it all meant. In the end you pushed everything to the side and padded into the living room to join the conversation in hopes of distracting yourself.

Mason was sitting in the arm chair, his legs spread wide and you unconsciously licked your lips as you fantasised about crawling into his lap.

‘Ah there you are,’ Carly called, patting the seat next to her as an invitation for you. ‘Saved you a seat’

‘Thank you’ you smiled, plonking yourself down next to her but immediately you felt too far away from Mason and his cheeky knowing smirk thrilled you.

‘I swear to god, I’m never going out again, those rude pricks ruin it every time. I’m trying to dance with my girls not get touched up’ Carly suddenly moaned, and you nodded in agreement beside her. ‘Sorry we ruined your birthday night out Mase’

It was true, the whole reason you were all home so early was due to the fact you and the rest of the girls couldn’t seem to enjoy yourselves at the club you were in. At first you didn’t care, if they wanted to look they could, but as time went on you could feel the lingering touch of countless men. You’d pushed all of them away, moving in closer to Carly and the other girls but it was no use. It was only when Mason appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arms around you did you start to feel a little safer.

‘Don’t worry about it, I think I’m happier here when I can hear myself think’

‘Maybe we’re getting a little too old for clubs now. I don’t know about you but the whole thing stresses me out’ you laughed and thankfully everyone pretty much agreed with you.

‘I still want to go to a few clubs when we’re away’ Carly told Ben, referring to the big group holiday all your friends were going on to Portugal in a few weeks.

From what Carly had told you it was her and Ben, Dec and Lauren, Woody and his new girlfriend Kayla who you’d met a couple of times and Mason. You had been invited from the start but due to low funds and a shop to run you’d had to pass and even though it was your decision it still stung a bit to hear them talk about it. ‘I really wish you were coming, y/n’

‘So you’re really not coming then?’ Woody asked as he popped himself on the arm of Mason's chair and you shook your head lightly.

‘It’s fine, I’ve got a lot on’ you shrugged, trying to play it off but you knew deep down you were disappointed you couldn’t go. You hadn’t had a proper holiday in years and you could feel the pit of jealousy in your stomach at the thought of seeing everyone’s holiday snaps. ‘I’m just gonna grab a glass of water’ you mumbled before jumping up to go to the kitchen.

You took your time, hoping by the time you were back the conversation had moved on but you could hear them all still talking about the villa so you popped yourself on the stairs and had a quick check of your emails.

‘Who are you texting? Anyone I should be worried about?’ You suddenly heard, looking up to see Mason walking towards you and you smiled as he took a seat next to you.

‘No I was just checking some work emails’

‘Ah yeah, sure’ he winked, bumping his shoulder into yours. ‘So, still no Mr Muffin on the scene?’

‘I don’t really have time’ you told him but he just scoffed at your answer.

‘Everyone has time. You just have to make it’

‘Fine, I haven’t met someone I’m willing to make time for yet’ you countered, watching the way he raised his brows at you. ‘What about you anyway? Is there a Mrs Mount lurking about?’

‘The only Mrs Mount you need to be concerned about is my mum. And she loves you anyway so I wouldn’t worry about it’ he smiled, your heart fluttering as you thought back to meeting her at a few games. She’d always been super sweet to you and you were glad to know she liked you back. ‘So in answer to your question, no. I haven’t met someone I’m willing to make time for either’

‘Considering you could probably pull half of the population I'm surprised’ you laughed and you couldn’t help but notice the blush that settled on the bridge of his nose. ‘Are you blushing?’ You teased, laughing as he hid his face in his hands. ‘Aww been a while since you received a compliment?’

‘Been a while since I received anything’ he joked, his words clearly having a double meaning and you felt yourself now redden at his words but the alcohol in your system shut off the sensible part of your brain and you felt yourself agreeing.

‘Oh tell me about it, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do it’ you giggled, watching his eyes crinkle adorably as he nodded along.

‘It’s like riding a bike, you’ll be fine when you give it another go’

‘Yeah but it’s finding someone to help me, you know… get back on the horse’

‘Are you kidding me? Did I or did I not save you from a long line of men who clearly wanted to get in your pants tonight?’ He teased and you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

‘Well yeah, but if you think I’m taking some random man from a club home then you’re very mistaken. I don’t know where he’s been’ you laughed and you watched him turn on the step slightly so he could face you a bit easier. You took this as your cue to do the same with both of your elbows resting on the step above you, smiling happily at him.

‘Okay so hypothetically, if you were to take someone home. What’s your type?’ He asked, his fingers delicately tracing your knee and you felt your breath catch in your throat at the intimate gesture.

‘I mean pretty much what everyone else wants’ you said lowly. ‘Tall, dark and handsome’

‘Well then look no further. I may not be overly tall but I’ve got the other two on lockdown’ he winked and you felt your face heat up. Not sure if he was being serious or not, thinking maybe it was the alcohol talking but you shook your thoughts away and tried to move the conversation on.

‘Well what’s your type then?’ You questioned and he looked at you thoughtfully before speaking.

‘Nice eyes, pretty smile’ he started and you rolled your eyes at his generic statement, thinking that’s what all boys say but you stayed silent and let him continue. ‘Someone confident but a little shy, feisty around the right people’ he carried on, pulling back to look at you properly and your tummy dropped. Is he talking about me? You wondered, your thoughts somewhat confirmed when his fingers started trailing up your thigh and it took everything in you to keep up eye contact with him when all you wanted to do was watch where his fingers were going.

‘Anything else?’ You whispered

‘Good eye contact’ he smiled before reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. He let his hand trail down your neck until he was holding you just under your ear so he could gently tip your head to the side before leaning over like he was about to kiss your cheek.

He didn’t, but you felt your legs go to jelly and he gently rubbed his nose along your cheekbone whilst a low hum poured from his lips. ‘Smells nice’ he whispered, pulling back so his lips were an inch from yours. Your foreheads nearly touching as his eyes scanned your face. ‘Probably tastes even better’ he finally uttered, causing you to take a small shocked breath in.

You were hanging on his every word, heart pounding as he was seeming getting closer to you and you subconsciously tilted your head up to meet him in the middle. You’d never understood the concept of being drawn to someone like a magnet but you finally felt it as you were pulled in his direction. Your lips so close they were almost touching but at the last second he backed up with a knowing smile across those pretty lips of his.

‘Not here’ he whispered, tilting his head so he could lightly kiss your cheek and you couldn’t lie you were slightly disappointed. You saw him go to say something else, yet the words never made it out of his mouth. You both jumped at the sound of Ben's voice calling him from the other room, scrambling away from each other when you heard his footsteps and you knew you were blushing hard when he eventually rounded the corner to see you both.

‘Woodys setting up the ps5, you coming?’ He asked, not really looking at the pair of you or waiting for an answer before heading out causing the pair of you to chuckle.

‘I’ll come find you in a bit, yeah?’ He promised and all you could do was nod. You sat wondering what the hell had just happened. This ultra flirty sexy version of Mason obviously only came out when he was drunk and you were a little bit disappointed this was the first you’d ever seen of him.

You went on the hunt for Carly though, hoping he would come and find you soon but you’d been separated from Mason for about half an hour now and your eyes rarely left each others. Even when he didn’t know you were looking you could see his eyes all over you in a way he never had before and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t loving all the attention he was giving you. When he was distracted for a while you made your way upstairs to the bathroom so you could sort yourself out as you knew you probably looked like a hot mess. The combination of Mason's flirty antics and the alcohol in your system had made you flustered and you needed some time out just to collect yourself.

‘Hello? Who’s in here?’ You heard, Masons voice booming through the door suddenly as you’d just finished washing your hands and you smiled instantly as you dried your them off.

‘It’s me’

‘Hi me’ he chuckled, clearly pleased with himself and you quickly opened the door to reveal his dozy smile and kind eyes.

‘Hello you’ you laughed, stepping aside and back over to the sink in hopes he would follow you inside and you smiled as you heard the door click shut. ‘Missing me already?’

‘Maybe. Missed looking at you in this dress at least’ he commented, positioning himself behind you with his hands on your hips as you caught eyes in the reflection of the mirror. You were trying to act unbothered, touching up your makeup like you didn’t care but his teasing attitude was making you crumble.

‘Oh yeah?’ You giggled, unsure as to what to say to him but the need to clench your thighs together was growing stronger and you watched him eye you up with his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

‘Mmhmm’ he teased, squeezing your hips softly before his eyes returned to yours. ‘I mean you always look good but I like this one a lot’

‘I’ll make sure to wear it more often then’ you told him quietly, watching him gather your hair and move it over one of your shoulders so he could expose your neck. You knew it was coming, but when his lips finally touched the base you felt your whole body erupt in goosebumps.

You didn’t say a word, just watching him in the mirror as he slowly peppered kisses up and down your exposed skin as you tried to regulate your breathing but you could tell he knew how much things were affecting you. The smile on your lips telling him as much but the hard length that was pressed against you bum was telling you how much he himself was enjoying too.

‘Easy there big boy’ you laughed, squeezing his hands that were gripping your waist and he buried his face into your neck with laugh before pulling back. His eyes were basically black as he turned you round to face him, pressing his crotch into yours and you had to hold back a moan.

‘I’ll show you big boy’ he whispered, lips dangerously close to yours and as much as you loved his teasing you’d had enough now and were ready to have him. Luckily for you, the pair of you seemed to be on the same page because as soon you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck his lips were on yours.

It was one of the softest kisses you’d ever had, lightly brushing your lips against each other but it was growing heavier by the second until the pair of you appeared to have gotten the giggles. Laughing onto each other lips until it was becoming impossible to carry on

‘What is happening’ you giggled, your hands coming to grip his jaw so he wouldn’t part from you but the firm grip on your thighs already told you he wouldn’t be.

‘I don’t know’ he laughed, peppering kisses across your jaw and cheeks. ‘I don’t wanna stop though’ he breathed and you had just enough time to nod your head in agreement before he was back kissing you. Deeper this time as his hands travelled up your thighs and to your bum, pushing your dress up with him so he could grip your cheeks with his thumbs under the waistband of your underwear, stroking your skin gently. A contrast into how aggressive he was being with his mouth.

You didn’t know what came over you but you pulled back, resting your hands behind you so you could shift your weight onto them. Raising your hips in order for him to rid you of your underwear and even though he was taken aback you could tell he wanted to rip them off of you.

‘Come on Mase. I thought you were gonna show me your big boy’ you laughed, watching his expression turn shocked before he was smiling devilishly at you.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart’

‘Try me’ you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist as soon as the words left your mouth he was blushing before he pulled your underwear from you as quickly as he could, kissing you frantically.

You knew what you wanted, reaching to undo his jeans but he pulled you away before placing your hands in his hair. Thankfully he knew what you wanted, his thumb connecting to your clit suddenly and you moaned into his mouth at the sensation.

‘Mase, please’

‘Shhh’ he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck before biting your shoulder. ‘Easy baby. Let me take my time with you’

‘We don’t have time. They’ll coming looking for us soon’

Mason let out a short breath, knowing you were right and you couldn’t risk it so when your hands flew to his trousers again he didn’t stop you from unbuttoning them. His hands were back on your hips to pull you forward so your core was closer to him and when he tugged his boxers down so he could free himself you shivered at the sight of him.

You both knew you had to be quick, but you thanked the lord he was slow and careful with you to start with. Lining himself up with your entrance as you sat back on your hands before he hooked your legs over his forearms to give him better access.

It really had been a while, the stretch of him delicious and by the look on his face he was clearly feeling the same. His thrusts slow and steady before he picked his pace up, the sound of skin slapping against skin only making everything feel more intense and when he moved his hand to play with your clit again you swore you were seeing stars.

‘Mase’ you moaned, your head falling back as he drove into you but the low moan that fell from him made your head snap up.

‘I know, you’re so tight. Fuck’ he breathed, hips slamming into yours and you knew it wouldn’t be much longer as he’d been turning you on all night. He looked wild, dark eyes intensely on yours with his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth and the blush across his nose was proving how into it he was. You tried holding your moans in, not wanting anyone to hear you but he was making it difficult. It was like he knew your body intimately already and the way he was making you feel was like no one else ever had. ‘Come on, cum for me’ he whispered and it didn’t take you much more convincing, whimpering below him as he fucked you through it before pulling out to cum over your thighs.

Your eyes were on each others instantly, uncertainty settling inside of you but the sight of Masons pretty smile settled you instantly.

‘Sorry about the mess’ he laughed, grabbing a towel and cleaning you up before picking your underwear up off of the floor and helping you down. ‘Well that was unexpected’

‘You can say that again’ you blushed, pulling you underwear up your legs and readjusting your dress. You weren’t sure where to look but you felt his finger under your chin so he could make you look at him and as soon as you saw his kind eyes you felt settled again. ‘Happy birthday I guess’ you joked and thankfully he laughed along.

‘Thank you, you okay?’ He whispered, dropping a kiss on your forehead and you nodded shyly. ‘Good. We best go or they’ll get suspicious’

You agreed, following him out the door before he pushed you forward a little and you turned to look at him when a confused expression.

‘I’ll come in a bit. Make it look like we weren’t together’ he told you and you wanted to leave but the overwhelming need to clarify somethings before you left took over you.

‘Hey, Mase? I um- I’ve never, you know… this isn’t what I um’ you stumbled, and the heart melting smile he gave you made your tummy flip.

‘It’s okay, I know. We’re just having a bit of fun yeah?’ He told you and you felt your shoulders relax instantly. ‘We can talk about it another time if you want but don’t worry, I’m not getting down on one knee just yet’ he winked, causing you to roll your eyes with a laugh. ‘Now go, I’ll see you in a sec’

You did as you were told, trying to act as normal as possible when you went to join the others but they were back talking about the holiday and you felt your heart sink again.

You didn’t want to be a misery though, helping them find clubs and restaurants to try without trying to appear too bitter about it and when Mason finally came back you tried to avoid his eyes as to not be too suspicious but you knew he was looking at you. You were also trying to to not over think what had just happened with Mason just now. It was so unexpected, you didn’t know what had come over the pair of you and it was like you could still feel his touch on your skin.

When it all got a bit too much you went back to the kitchen, no longer wanting to hear about all the exciting things they had planned while you slaved away in a hot kitchen. You knew you were being moody and it was your choice not to go but it didn’t make it hurt any less having to hear about it.

‘I’ve been thinking’ Mason announced suddenly and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest from the sound of his voice. ‘This holiday, it’s not right you not coming. I know you wanna be there so I’d like for you to come with me’

‘You know I can’t Mase, I can’t afford it for one’ you told him, finally admitting to someone the real reason for you not going but by the look on his face you could tell he knew it already.

‘That’s why I’m asking for you to come with me. You don’t need to worry about that then’

‘What?’ You asked, your face scrunching up in confusion ‘Mase, no-‘

‘Before you say no, just listen to me’ he laughed coming over to you so he could trap you in between his arms by placing his hands on the counter either side of you. ‘You know me, you know I’ll do anything for the people in my life and if anyone deserves a break it’s you’ he told you sincerely before his face turned cheeky. ‘Plus, I think I can make it worth your while’

‘What do you mean?’ You asked skeptically

‘Just let me look after you a bit, yeah? We’re both stressed out and need a break. I’ve only got a couple of weeks before I need to get back to training and I need to let off some steam. I’m not saying this has to be anything you know? But there’s obviously some level of attraction here and I’d rather spend my time with you than go through all the shit of trying to find someone else. You get that right? I’ve got a rep to protect’ he winked.

You were confused to say the least, not sure exactly what he was getting at but if it was what you were thinking then couldn’t lie, you were tempted. If you were understanding correctly he was willing to whisk you away with him for a week of sun sea and no strings sex for nothing. The tipsy part of your brain was willing to accept straight away, eager to get to feel more of him again yet the sober part knew it sounded too good to be true.

‘So you mean…?’

‘We keep it casual you know? You scratch my back, I scratch yours. You said you don’t know where these boys have been but you know exactly where I’ve been cause it’s just with you. Then at the end of the week we go back to our normal lives. I just need someone who I can trust and I know that’s you and I hope you know you can trust me. And we both know we can be sneaky sneaky now so it’s a win win’

‘I don’t know, Mase…’

‘If you don’t wanna, you know, that’s fine I’m not asking you to come for that reason only. Just turn up. That’s all I’m asking. If anything else happens then cool but I hate the thought of you being here when we’re there. You’re meant to be with us’ he reasoned and even though that took some of the pressure off he could still tell you were unsure. ‘What’s holding you back?’

‘We’ve been drinking Mase. This may sound like a good idea now but what about tomorrow when you’re wondering why the hell you even kissed me, let alone anything else’ you asked but he looking at you like you were talking rubbish before he shook his head with a laugh.

‘Stop talking shit. If it makes you feel any better I can text you tomorrow cause I know for a fact I’ll still feel the same. This isn’t just some weird thing I thought of off the cuff, I’ve hated the thought of you not coming with us since Ben told me’

‘It’s a lot of money, Mase’ you whispered ‘I’d never be able to pay you back.

‘I’m not asking you too. There’s plenty of other ways to repay me’ he teased and you rolled your eyes with a smile. ‘Not like that’

‘Like what then?’

‘I’ll let you buy me an ice cream’ he smiled as you laughed into your hands. ‘Or you can make me lunch or help me with my sun cream. I’m not bothered about how much it costs or you paying me back. I just want you there’ he huffed and you couldn’t lie, you were convinced. ‘Please muffin’ he pouted, bumping his nose with yours and you smiled up at him softly.

‘It’s not just the money, I can’t leave the shop that long’

‘What about Nads?’ He asked, referring to the girl you hired a few months ago to help you run things. ‘Think of it like a trial or something for her. If she does a good job then you can leave her in charge more often and you get a bit more of a life. I know it’s your baby but you have to learn to let go sometimes’ he told you and you hated how reasonable he sounded.

‘Can I think about it? I’ll let you know tomorrow’ you asked quietly and with a small nod he closed the relatively small gap to place his lips on yours in a soft kiss.

‘Take all the time you need’ he nodded before wrapping his arms around your shoulders so he could pull you into a hug. ‘You staying here tonight?’

‘Yeah’

‘Well I’m gonna head home with Woody in a sec’ he told you gently, the pout in your face evident even though he couldn’t see you. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow yeah? About all of it’ he suggested and you knew he mean the holiday and whatever had happened between you earlier.

‘Okay’ you whispered before he dropped a soft kiss on your forehead.

‘Have a good sleep, yeah? I’ll text you in the morning’ he smiled before giving you one last squeeze and pulling away.

y/n

liked by: carlywlms_, masonmount, benchilwell and others

Y/n mission take a picture in focus has failed

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carlywlms_ my sparkly sister ✨

y/n the brightest star in my sky 💫

benchilwell Why do I not remember any of this

y/n that’s cause you’ve got nothing in between your ears

masonmount thanks for a lovely evening 🩷

y/n happy birthday masey moo 🥳🎁

jorginhofrello happy bday papai ♥️

woody_ you’re missing out on a week of this

y/n that’s fine I don’t think my body could physically take it 😩

okaylaaa pray for me ☹️

y/n 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

masonprivate nice shoes 😏

y/n you too 🤫

yungchalobah 👀🤔

y/n 🫣

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 9 months

Text

Welcome to The Team

John Price X F!Civilian Reader

But when everyone noticed the oh so subtle change in Price’s behavior suddenly, well everyone was on high alert. He’d always smile or nod when passing by someone on base, even giving a gruff hello if he had the time and energy. But this? The way he was practically skipping down the halls with joy was unnerving. No one would ever say anything though, not unless they wanted to have their head on a platter.

a/n:this is my first ever CoD fic, so please be kind! feedback is much appreciated! warnings:mentions of trauma(iykyk)Soap being...Soap, soft Ghost, alludes to sexy times but no actual smut

It was no surprise to everyone on the team that Price had essentially turned himself into the “dad” of the group. Even Ghost had jokingly said in the past how much of a father figure Price had presented himself as. It didn’t matter that he ranked higher than everyone else, they all respected him no matter what. Soap had joked a few times that it was funny watching someone like Ghost call Price dad, considering how “scary” he looked. Of course out on the field no one dared to utter anything about Price’s status amongst them. It was better to stay level headed so that nothing could go awry.

—-------

Ghost had been watching the way Price paced around the room, muttering under his breath as if trying to remember something important. It was something he’d started doing before missions, especially difficult ones. That wasn’t what concerned the taller man though, not at all, it was the smile that spread across his face. Price looked like he’d won the lottery and was getting ready to retire. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked so happy before, it was unnerving. Who was this man, and what had they done with Price? Had they started controlling him through a toxin? It would be the easiest way to get him vulnerable.

“Good mornin’ sir.” Ghost grabbed his own mug, popping in a tea bag as he watched Price prepare his own cup of tea.

“Ghost.” Price nodded his head, pouring two small scoops of sugar into the mug.

Hmm, maybe it was the sugar that was poisoning him, it would be the easiest way to poison someone who was otherwise oblivious. Ghost, not to be suspicious, scooped one measly scoop of sugar into his own mug, pouring hot water into the cup. Price took his mug and headed back down to his office to work. Ghost waited until his tea had steeped before removing the bag and stirring it slowly. Sighing deeply he pulled the bottom of his mask up and over his mouth, taking a slow sip as to not scald his mouth.

The flavor of the tea washed over his tastebuds, the sweetness of the sugar following soon after. He waited to see if he’d started to feel any different, would his mind slow to a crawl, or would it hit when he went out to see the other men. He finished the mug over the course of a few minutes, rinsing out the cup and setting it onto the drying rack nearby. After pulling his mask back down, he headed out to try and find Soap and Gaz.

They were both relaxing in the common room, playing a card game that Ghost didn’t really understand fully. The tea had settled in his stomach, and it was with that realization that they were wrong.

“I hate to say it boys, but Price isn’t being poisoned, sugar isn’t contaminated.” Soap angrily threw down his cards, they were all shocked.

“You’re kidding, there’s obviously something going on!” Gaz watched the way Ghost shook his head, truly confirming that they were wrong once more.

“I’ll call Laswell, have her send a priest.” Soap all but threw himself out of the chair.

Gaz started laughing, having a priest come and check on Price due to his weird actions would absolutely go down in history. It was justified though, Price was being weird and they were going to figure it out. Soap was getting ready to dial the number before Ghost snatched the phone out of his hand.

“No, we’re not calling Laswell because Price is acting a little weird, we’ll figure it out on our own.” Ghost kept the phone out of Soap’s reach, thankful for the extra height.

“Gi’me the damn phone!” Soap was doing everything he could to snatch it, only failing so effortlessly.

“No! We’re not calling her!” Ghost was doing his best to keep the phone away as Soap tried to yank his arm down.

Gaz calculated how easily he could snatch the phone from his hand, seeing which odds would work best in his favor. Lucky for him Ghost’s arm dropped ever so slightly as Soap yanked his arm down. Neither soldier realized that Gaz had the phone until he’d already dialed the number and hit call.

“Gaz, long time no talk, how’ve you been?” Laswell was suspicious, no one usually called her unless it was an emergency.

“Price is compromised.” Gaz didn’t even try to stop himself to help articulate his words.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” That was a horrible thing to hear, what were they going to do?

“He’s been unusually happy for the last few weeks, and you know Price.” Gaz had turned on the speakerphone so that Soap and Ghost could hear as well.

“Sounds serious, I’ll send someone over to check on him. Anything else?” Laswell had known all along, but she wasn’t about to ruin the surprise.

“No, that’s it.” Gaz waited for her reply, frowning when he realized that she had hung up.

To be fair, he would’ve done the same thing if needed. But who would she be sending? They’d need to know in order to let them inside. It was probably some military doctor, someone that Laswell had vetted to the point that everyone was in good hands. Now it was all about making sure Price didn’t leave until then.

“Alright, we need to act normal so that Price doesn’t know we’re onto him.” It sounded simple enough, acting calm, cool and collected so that they could snoop.

Until they were all in the common room, and Price was downright giggling at his phone like some lovesick teenager. It was nearly impossible to calmly sit and eat a meal together, not while they watched Price whisper to himself before replying to another message. Nope, this was the final straw that had pushed all of them over the edge.

“Price, I-” Soap was cut off by someone knocking on the door.

All four men turned to face the door, now on edge to who might be outside. People very rarely knocked on the door unless they were new. Gaz bit the bullet, heading over to the door and opening it slowly. He stared blankly at Laswell, and what looked to be a priest standing outside. She pushed the door open fully and headed inside.

“Good day boys, I’m here with a friend of mine. This is Father Murdock, he’s a priest.” Soap’s jaw had nearly hit the table, while Ghost’s eyes were wide.

“A priest is going to help us figure out what’s wrong with Price?” The guy didn’t look any older than Gaz.

“Yes, now if you boys don’t mind we’ll take it from here.” She had ushered everyone out threw the door, locking it behind herself so they couldn’t sneak back inside.

Ghost was the most affronted, how dare he get shoved out along with the other two idiots! He’d been the only one doing any actual research. Okay, maybe Gaz calling worked out in their favor a little bit more, but that didn’t change things! He’d been shunned out, and it was annoying. What the hell could they have been talking about to begin with?

—----

“Alright, when are you going to tell them about her?” Laswell knew the whole story, the person she’d brought as the “priest” was an old friend of the family.

“Was thinking about having her come visit for a few days, but need to make sure there’s nothing going on first.” That was true, Price wanted nothing more than for you to visit.

“Well, make sure that they don’t end up freaking out and causing more chaos.” Nothing more annoying than cleaning up their mess.

Price nodded at her, face pulling into a frown to hide how he was truly feeling. Sometimes it was fun to mess with the team, and today was one of those days. Laswell shut the door behind her, and Mr. Murdock as they both left.

“You guys are right, I’d keep an eye on him a little longer. And please only call if there’s a bigger emergency next time.” Laswell patted Gaz’s shoulder before heading out.

Soap wanted to retort that this was a big emergency! Price had started to change and they needed to figure out what was going on. Did he have a secret family they didn’t know about, and was getting updates from his partner? Nah, that man was almost as closed off as Ghost when it came to feelings and relationships.

Unanimously they came to a decision that Soap would be the one to ask Price why he suddenly had what could only be considered a pep in his step. If it wasn’t for Ghost following him the entire time Soap would’ve chickened out multiple times. Why was he being made to do this? It would’ve been better if Ghost or Gaz asked! With a resounding sigh he pushed open Price’s door and walked in, waiting until the older man looked up to acknowledge him.

Price’s hands didn’t stop for even a second, typing away to help get the paperwork finished in time for dinner.

“Hey Captain. The guys and I were talking and wanted to ask you something.” Soap was downright panicking, sweat running the back of his neck.

Price stopped typing and slowly turned to face Soap, the Scottsman was more intimidated than he wanted to let on.

“I met someone, didn’t think you would find out for a little while.” Price turned to face him, a more neutral expression hiding everything.

“Wait, you’re da’ing someone?” Soap was shocked, Price never talked about his relationships.

“Aye, and I don’t want you haggling me about it.” Price didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before walking off.

Soap however knew he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut with the new information he’d gotten, so he did what anyone else would do. Ran and told everyone that was around what he’d heard. Gaz was just as shocked, jaw dropping open dramatically as Soap told him everything. Ghost was slightly less surprised, but no less happy for Price. Soap could only tell that Ghost had any type of reaction was the way his eyebrows rose underneath the mask. None of them were aware that Price was currently on the phone with you, discussing plans for the next time he could visit.

“You better be taking me out, I deserve it.” You couldn’t stop your giggle, cutting up onions for your dinner.

“Of course, my boys won’t be there so it’ll just be us,” Price was downright ecstatic to see you, hoping the days would go by sooner. “One of these times they’re going to ask to talk to me, you know that.” You carefully scooped up the onions and dumped them into the pot on the stove.

Price sighed softly, he knew it was only a matter of time before Soap had found out who you were. It was kind of scary how intelligent he could be at times, but Price needed that on his team.

“I know, and that’s why I was going to ask if you wanted to come here.” It was a long shot, but Price would love to have you visit him and meet everyone.

“Really? You’d let me come down and meet all of the boys on your turf?” It was risky, especially considering you were a civilian.

“Of course, they’ll find out who you are by the end of the day so why not meet the lot?” In reality he wanted nothing more than for you to be in his arms.

“Well, I do have some vacation time I can use. If you aren’t busy within the next two weeks I can make it down.” You were already planning on what to pack, maybe you could get some little things for all the boys.

Price promised he’d set a week strictly for the two of you, promising that he wouldn’t get called away at the last minute so that you could meet everyone. Of course he couldn’t truly guarantee something wouldn’t happen, he was only human. He had no doubt in his mind the boys would keep you safe if he suddenly had to leave, but he didn’t want them to flirt with you. Ghost would be as friendly as he could be, but everyone else would definitely flirt.

“Tickets bought, I’ll see you in a few weeks.” You were overly proud of yourself, now packing the essentials was the next thing you had to focus on.

“I can’t wait darling.” Price was over the moon, which meant right now he needed to stay focused and make sure there were no loose ends after missions.

“See you soon.” You wanted to wait to hang up, listen to the gravel tone for just a few minutes longer.

Unfortunately you knew that John, as you’d come to call him strictly, had plans he needed to attend and therefore had to end the call anyway. Your job wouldn’t hesitate on giving you the time off, you were one of the best employees and they couldn’t risk losing you. Plus what’s a few days? You’d go and visit John, meet his children, and then head home. It would all go smoothly and you weren’t going to complain.

It would be perfectly fine, and you’d get to spend a few days with John. It would all work out perfectly fine.

—-----

You had clearly jinxed yourself, because not only did you not wake up with your alarm to leave for your flight, but then your flight had been delayed nearly three hours. You’d told John the moment you found out, more angry that the world was suddenly against you. If that didn’t ruin your entire day you were stuck on a flight next to a man determined you sleep against you. You had all but demanded to be moved to a different seat. The one positive is that they’d had a free seat open in first class. It would only take a few hours until you were reunited with John and then you’d meet the boys.

You had made it only about five steps out of the airport before your eyes landed on John, excitedly running over and throwing your arms around his neck.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Truth be told it was the only thing you’d been thinking about for days.

“Glad to have you back in my arms.” John tightened his grip, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You giggled at the way his beard rubbed against your skin, pulling back just enough so that you could see his face. It never stopped to amaze you at how gorgeous he was, everything about him screamed perfect.

“Why don’t we get you back so you can relax. The boys might start hounding me to see you and I’d like at least a few minutes of peace.” John took your bags swiftly, heading over to the truck he’d taken to come pick you up.

It was more than obvious it belonged to the army, despite the fact that no one seemed to even bat an eye at the pair of you. Was this the normal thing when you were part of the military? Or did John get special treatment for looking so intimidating? You weren’t complaining at all, the man had that rugged angry dad type of vibe you’d always been into. He simply just checked every box on your list, and clearly you’d done the same for him.

John helped you get into the passenger seat, keeping a hand on any part of your body to make sure that you got in safely. He couldn’t recall the amount of times one of the boys had fallen out of the truck due to exhaustion, or being too drunk. It was funny to watch, but wrangling them up when he was downright dead on his feet? Nightmare.

“Are you excited to meet everyone?” John rested his hand against your headrest, pulling out of the parking spot with ease. It made you a little jealous at how effortless he did everything.

“Excited and a little nervous, I just want to make sure I don’t end up accidentally upsetting anyone by saying the wrong thing.” John had told you the quick gist of everything back when he knew things were serious.

Ghost, or Simon as John had called him in private, dealt with a lot of PTSD and trauma, things that even he refused to ever elaborate on. Gaz, or Kyle, was one of the more neutral of the men, though he did have his moments of self doubt and wondering if he was doing the right thing. Alejandro wasn’t in the state so you wouldn’t be meeting him unless he came back before your flight home. And then there’s Soap, or Johnny as John had strictly begun to call him. He was the rowdiest of the bunch, a little reckless when it came down to it but he got the job done. It was obvious how much John cared about his men and making sure they stayed safe no matter what.

“They’ll warm up to you in no time, I can promise you that.” John had no doubts they would be friendly, at least upon first greeting.

“I know not to hug Simon, I remember that important detail.” You felt anger towards the harsh things that Simon had gone through, even if he was still here today it didn’t erase his past.

“At least not right away, if he initiates the hug then go ahead, but he’s never been big on physical touch.” John would make sure no one even laid so much as a finger on you without him there.

The drive was short, much quicker than you’d been anticipating and now you were nervous to actually meet everyone. What if they realized you weren’t the person that Price should be with and proceeded to give the cold shoulder? That would probably be the worst case scenario at this rate. Now wasn’t the time to think about all the what ifs, not when John was parking the truck and getting out to grab your bags. Unfortunately that did little to stop your brain from running a mile a minute, John trying to get your attention as you spiraled.

“Darling, you alright?” John was getting worried, you were completely lost to the world.

“Yeah, just got lost in thought.” You turned to face him, shoulders slightly tense as you slipped out of the car.

John didn’t want to push, to make things more tense when you seemed to not be doing so well suddenly. He’d wanted you to come visit so badly he didn’t even think about how you would feel being surrounded by nothing but men the entire time. You knew all about them though, surely that wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

“Alright, let’s drop your bags off and then you can meet Gaz first.” Frankly all John wanted to do was keep you holed up in his room for at least two days.

“Lead the way captain.” You smirked at the way John seemed to straighten up.

The walk was short, surprisingly no one stopped him to ask questions on who you were or to discuss something you wouldn’t know of. John did everything he could to keep his career away from you. Your safety was his number one priority and he wasn’t about to risk that in any way shape or form.

“‘Ere we are, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask, want to make sure you’re fully comfortable.” John placed your bags down beside his bed, turning to face you once more.

You calculated how easily it would be to get him in that bed without hurting yourself in the process. He was skilled, that much you knew, but right now you wanted nothing more than to climb that man like a tree. So, without giving yourself a chance to overthink or talk yourself out of the decision, you quickly ran over and knocked John down onto the bed. You both landed with a soft oof, John wrapped his arms around your waist. You’d been blissfully unaware of how closely the two of you were pressed together.

“Well, if I’d know this was where the day was headed I’d have dressed nicer.” John couldn’t stop the smirk that pulled up his face.

“You say that as if what you’re currently wearing isn’t one of the sexiest things ever.” Sure it was nothing more than a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but god he looked delectable.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” His hands slid up your thighs, hands gripping and squeezing the flesh of your ass.

You couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out, nails digging into his firm chest ever so slightly. Enough to sting, but not enough to do any real damage to him. The air started to electrify around you, heart racing as you pulled him closer. Your lips clashed harshly, hands roaming each other’s bodies as if you couldn’t live without it. John kissed like a man starved, lips moving languidly with your own. The two of you were blissfully unaware of everything else going on, lost in each other's bodies.

“Captain!” A loud knock on his door startled the both of you, you’d all but thrown yourself off his bed.

“What is it?” John’s voice was deep, a gravelly tone that was doing so many things for you in that moment.

“Ghost was looking for you earlier, wanted me to let you know if I found you.” You sighed softly, running a hand over your face at nearly being caught practically rutting against John like a cat in heat.

“I’ll find him in a few, thank you.” Well this wasn’t going according to plan, so now he would definitely need to make it up to you.

However once you two were alone once more and John’s gaze landed on you he was shocked. Your face was flushed, eyes glazed over as you stared him down. He didn’t utter a single word, simply lifted his hand and beckoned you towards him. Thankfully no other recruits had come by to ask anymore questions.

Not that either of you would’ve been able to answer.

—---------

Ghost was reading over reports when Price walked inside, the smile on his face was even bigger than before. They all knew about the special friend in his life, but something must have happened in order for him to look even happier.

“What’s got you smilin’?” Ghost normally didn’t press, not wanting to ruin someone’s good day by being nosy.

“Got a visitor for the next couple weeks, trying to make the most of it.” He grabbed a couple of sandwiches for the two of you before snagging a bottle of water.

“Don’t let Soap know, boy’ll try and flirt with her.” Ghost knew that Johnny would flirt with any woman he found attractive, it was no surprise.

“I’m gonna have ‘er meet everyone at dinner, now if you’ll excuse me.” John didn’t wait for Simon to reply before heading back down to his room.

You were sure you’d lost feeling in your legs entirely, body slumped against his mattress as you kept the thin sheet pulled over yourself. Were you even still alive? Or had John killed you with the best dick you’d ever gotten? The latter, it was definitely the latter.

“There’s my favorite girl.” John smiled as he set down the sandwiches and water.

“I’m not gonna be able to move later, you’ve ruined me.” You grabbed onto his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed beside you.

He went willingly, wrapping his arms around your waist. This was something he’d never expected he would have in his life. But laying with you washed all those insecurities away, it may not have been long but he couldn’t imagine a life without you now.

“If anything I’ll carry you down, but why don’t you get some food and water in you first.” It would be a few hours before dinner anyway.

You nodded, letting John help you sit up and eat. Hopefully after a nice nap you would feel more comfortable and wouldn’t start second guessing everything. It didn’t take long for your eyes to start drooping, exhaustion setting in along with the jetlag. John kept his arms around you, waiting until you’d fallen asleep to lay down himself. Dinner was going to be an event, and he needed to be on high alert.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as John led the way to the lounge area. He wanted to introduce you to everyone and then head out to dinner. This was going to be make or break, nothing but doubt running through your mind. What if Simon didn’t like you? He was the only person you were putting all your faith in.

“Boys! I’d like you to meet someone special.” John pulled you into his side, waiting to see everyone’s reaction to you.

Gaz and Soap were shocked but seemed excited to finally meet you, neither made a move to run over and greet you in fear that John would get pissed. Ghost on the other hand stood up slowly, towering over you as he stopped only a foot away.

“Hi, John’s told me a lot about you.” Your neck was starting to hurt from looking up at the burly man. One thing he’d failed to mention was how fucking tall he was.

“Only good things I hope.” Ghost was downright terrified, he knew you were coming and had probably been told about the mask.

“Of course.” Your smile was gentle, body moving before you could truly stop yourself.

Your arms were wrapped around his waist in a friendly hug, the room falling silent as everyone watched with bated breath. Was it rude to assume that he would end up freaking out? Yes, but knowing all of his past trauma didn’t help. Ghost took a deep breath, arms wrapping around your shoulders to squeeze you even tighter. A squeal slipped through your lips, laughing loudly at how comforting his embrace was. It felt so much like a bear hug you didn’t even want to let go.

“You give some amazing hugs, wow.” You were the first to pull away, eyes locking onto his mask once more.

“Comes with the territory.” Ghost wasn’t going to bring the mood down, not when Price looked so happy.

“Thank you for the hug, I’ll be sure to bring something back for you guys.” At the mention of a treat Gaz and Soap ran over.

They were affronted that Price was going to take you out right after meeting everyone, which is how you’d somehow convinced John to let everyone come. Soap was the first one ready to go, it was adorable to watch him and Gaz together. They were like two children, arguing like siblings rather than teammates. No wonder John was the dad of the team, they all acted like children when they weren’t off saving the world.

“You sure you want those blokes to come with?” John was happy either way, he’d sneak you off for a proper date night later on if needed.

“I am, I want to really sit down and have a proper conversation with them.” It would be much easier at dinner, even if Simon didn’t take off his mask.

“I’ll make sure they’re at least behaved for us.” John would just stare everyone down until they realized they’d pissed dad off.

It was common knowledge that the men listened to Price no matter what was being said, but with you tagging along it could change things up a bit. He made everyone sit in the back seat, reserving the passenger seat for you so that he could keep you close. Gaz and Soap were snickering to themselves, once John linked your fingers together it was game over. Their playful torment was ramped up by a thousand, it was adorable.

“You guys go ahead and get seated, I’m going to make sure everything's good.” It was a cheap lie, all three knew exactly why John wanted to wait to head inside.

“You got it.” Gaz all but dragged Soap out of the car and into the restaurant, Ghost not far behind.

John waited until they were all inside before focusing all of his attention onto you. You lifted your clasped hands, pressing a kiss to the back of his. He smiled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You giggled at the way his beard tickled your face, running a hand through the short hair at the base of his neck. You wanted nothing more than to take him back to the base, but you did promise to talk with the boys.

“We need to stop before I get us arrested for indecent exposure.” You had no shame in admitting to him that you would risk it all. He was worth it.

“Mmm can’t have any of that.” John pressed one more chaste kiss to your lips before slipping out of the car.

He kept his arms around you, letting the hostess at the front know that he was there with a few friends. You could see Soap and Gaz had already ordered drinks, but that wasn’t what truly shocked you, it looked like Simon had taken off his mask.

“Sorry boys, I wanted to keep John to myself for a few minutes.” You smiled softly, resting your head against John’s shoulder as he sat down.

No one made a comment at how Simon was being so open, it wouldn’t do the poor man any good to put him on the spot either way. So instead of putting Simon under the spotlight you turned your attention to Soap and Gaz. They told you all about times that John would reprimand them for goofing off, how he’d go above and beyond to make sure everyone was safe. It made you fall farther in love with the man. Simon would sometimes pipe up with his own stories, he talked about John as if they’d known each other their lives.

The food had been delicious, a greasy burger that dripped down your hands onto the plate below. Normally you wouldn’t have ordered something so messy, but most of the menu had been the same, so you chose what would be the easiest to clean. John wasn’t sure he could love you even more than he did at that moment. He’d known that most women felt too nervous to just enjoy the moment, but you took everything in stride.

“God, this burger is so good.” You shoved the last bite into your mouth, sighing in bliss.

“Aye you’re right, this place is fantastic.” Soap had been the only one to attempt to keep conversation going.

“Next time you guys are close to home, I’ll make some comfort food.” It was something you’d done for every friend, and ex.

“Please, I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.” Gaz was nearly drooling at the thought, especially if you were secretly an amazing cook.

The rest of the meal went by without a hitch, John paying for everyone’s dinner and ignoring your pleas to at least let you tip. He insisted that you could repay him later, which led to Soap groaning loudly.

“Oh quit whining, that wasn’t what I meant.” John rolled his eyes, wiping his hands with the only clean napkin left.

“Uh huh, sure captain.” Soap smirked, waggling his eyebrows.

John proceeded to ignore him entirely, gathering his coat and ushering everyone back out to the truck. The air had a slight chill that neither of you were expecting, which prompted John to drape his coat over your shoulders. It smelled of gunpowder, cinnamon, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was comforting, like a warm hug on a cold day, similar to the way Simon hugged. Maybe it was just an army thing.

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until John was doing his best to get you into some pajamas. From the feel of it he’d gotten you into one of his shirts and taken off the jeans you had on earlier. Instead of fighting sleep and letting John know you could easily dress yourself, you let sleep take hold once more. Light was gently streaming into the room when you woke, John’s arm wrapped tight around your waist, soft snores filling the room.

This was the perfect domestic bliss you’d always longed for, the only thing missing were a couple little ones running around. You smiled to yourself at the thought, until Soap bursting into the room shattered the blissful daydream.

“Aye! Time to wake up!” His voice bellowed through the room, startling John to the point he had a gun pointed at the other man.

“Johnny! Get out!” John was more annoyed than angry, having been woken up so suddenly did nothing to ease his mind.

Johnny left quickly, slamming the door behind him so no one would catch a glimpse of their captain and his lady friend in the early morning. You laughed and buried your face back into the soft pillows below you. It wasn’t a morning wake up call, it was simply a glance into the future that you had with John.

And damn, did the future look pretty fucking good.

tags: @gaylemonshark

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