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#take a shot every time i said a fic was perfect
kiwisbell · 6 months
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Red Light [landlord!joel miller]
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The men you keep bringing home are no good for you. It's up to your landlord Joel to protect you from heartbreak. 
my masterlist!
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: AU - no outbreak/modern day, obsessive!joel, dark!joel, but also soft!joel, landlord!joel, violence, death, murder, stalking, jealousy, truly creepy behaviour, unprotected sex (lead by example; just not mine), creampie, dubious consent, reader’s serious lack of self-preservation, sexual tension, abuse of power, spanking, spitting, squirting, praise kink, degradation kink, joel is a munch, somnophilia, possessive behaviour, dirty talk, a smidgen of gaslighting, the general filth you should expect from me by now, a spoonful of genuine intimate connection™️, implied age gap, submissive reader, dominant joel, daddy kink, knives, mild torture, light anal play, voyeurism, unreliable narration, inappropriate use of a necklace, panty sniffing, ambiguous(?) ending
word count: ~ 15.8k (uh, oops!)
read on ao3!
hello, all! this fic has been tossing and turning inside the proverbial sheets of my head for a while now. when i tell you it's darker than anything i've written, i mean it, so please, please mind the tags. this story does not depict a healthy relationship; joel is a total creep and both he and reader are heavily delusional. with that said, please enjoy this (super long) one-shot!! xoxo
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PREFACE
Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. — Macbeth, I.IV
~
THE TENANT
You're beginning to think it’s a built-in bad luck charm. A microchip implanted in your skin or a flaw you have yet to pick out. Every single one of your prospective boyfriends has disappeared off the face of the Earth since you moved into town. 
It isn't you. It's not. There is nothing wrong with you. It isn't your fault that either they decide after one date that you aren't worth seeing again, or they stand you up before the date can even begin. Your profile pictures are decent. You followed the rules meticulously: a shot of your face, a group picture to show you have friends, a selfie, a candid. You've examined them time and time again for flaws and find none that a man would care about. You're pretty. Sexy. Confident. They're just intimidated. Fuck, you're turning into your mother.
And yet—
Since moving into this apartment—this beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime deal of an apartment—your luck with dating has abruptly ended. 
It's a lovely building. A stout brownstone with wrought-iron stairs and an old, but functional, elevator, it's traditional and charming. Perfect for a single woman. 
Six months. This is your first second date in six months. David is just fine. He's handsome in a frat-initiate kind of way, with a nice smile and a good sense of dress. He doesn't ask many questions about you, and he's a little pretentious about films you don't give a shit about, but he likes you. You didn't have a horrible time on the first date: he wasn't afraid to spend his money on you at the nice restaurant. And he has a car. 
Raised as an optimist, you learned to see the good parts of a situation. David can work out. 
On the way out of the elevator, you spot your landlord Joel speaking to the concierge. You instinctively smooth down your hair and wave at him as you walk by, shrugging your purse onto your shoulder. “Hi, Joel. Hi, Sam.”
Sam the concierge waves back, but Joel puts his back to the conversation and gives you his full attention, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk. Your heart leaps and your head goes fuzzy with nerves. You barely manage to force a giddy giggle back down your throat. Relief coats your bones when Sam excuses himself to take a call.
Joel Miller’s an older guy, his tousled dark hair threaded with silver on his head and in his beard. One look at him and a person could know that he works with his hands for a living; he’s broad-shouldered, strong, with big arms and a capable air about him. He’s proven his mettle a hundred times over already with the miniscule repairs he’s made to the building. He turned it into a good place to live; he even trims the hedges outside and polishes the doorknobs when they get rusty. 
He’s wearing a green T-shirt today, which is another member of the typical summertime circulation of blue and grey T-shirts, and a pair of jeans. “Evening,” he says, his rich brown eyes sparkling. Sometimes, you can see him smile when his mouth isn’t showing it. It’s charming. Enthralling. “How’s that new lock workin’ out for you?”
You grin. He remembered. Joel installed a new deadbolt on your door last week, since the chain on the last one broke. “It’s perfect,” you tell him. “Are you in a chocolate or lemon mood this time?”
His gaze flickers down your body, taking in your yellow dress, before meeting yours again. “Lemon,” he says.
You bite the inside of your cheek. Talking to a handsome man feels like tossing your heart in the air and trying to juggle. Flirting with a handsome man is like toeing a tightrope between two mountains and forcing yourself not to look down. Your stomach swoops with the path of his eyes over your body, and you cannot convince yourself that you imagined it. “Lemon squares it is. Thank you again, Joel.”
“Just my job to keep my tenants safe,” he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. You can see a pair of keys in his pocket along with his cell phone. The mere sight of his belt makes your cheeks hot. Why are you looking at his belt? You’re going on a date with another man, for God’s sake. Relax.
“Helps when I like my tenants so much,” adds Joel, and you forget why you were scolding yourself in the first place. 
“Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side. “Maybe you should be baking for them, instead.”
Joel steps away from the desk, working his jaw as he seems to fight down a smile. “It’s for the best this way, believe me. Can’t cook for shit.”
“Big, strong man like you can’t work a stove?” you tease. Don’t look down. 
“I only fix ‘em.” There’s a crooked smile on his face now, and your heart beats your ribs to shrapnel. “You look real nice. Goin’ somewhere?”
That simple validation calms your nerves more effectively than a half-hour of repeating affirmations into the mirror before leaving your apartment. You give the skirt of your sundress a little swish. “A date, actually,” you say, feeling sheepish. Your landlord certainly doesn’t need to hear about your track record as of late. “He’s taking me to Sunfest, in the park.”
A minute twitch of his brow is the only reaction he gives to the news. “That so?” he says. “Lucky man.”
“More like lucky me,” you say with a small laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. Stop talking, you plead to yourself. Too much information. Shut up, kindly excuse yourself, and leave. 
Joel shakes his head, and now is the first time you notice that his eyes haven’t once left you. It warms your body. “He’s the lucky one. Trust me.”
“Okay. I concede.” You chew on your lip for a moment and, sure enough, his gaze hones in on your mouth. The air in the lobby crackles white-hot. You clear your throat, turning your head to find David’s car parked on the street outside. “I should go. But I promise I’ll get started on those lemon squares soon.”
It’s a possibility that you only imagine Joel’s eyes flitting from the car outside back to you when you turn your head back to face him. “Do me a favour?” he says, a scrape to his deep drawl. 
“Anything, Joel.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Be safe,” he says. “You have my number if anything goes wrong.”
You give him a grateful smile. “I’ll be safe, Joel. And if I’m not, you’re the first person I’ll call.”
“Good. That’s…” He trails off, still watching you, his eyes trained in their path across your face. “You’re good. Smart, beautiful, good. You deserve to have somethin’ real.”
The simple, small praises melt your bone marrow and recast it in the shape of him. The old chandelier hanging from the ceiling casts him in a soft light, stark against the hard muscles and profound depths in his eyes. He's breathtaking. You've always known it, but…
He sees something in you, too. 
David honks his horn and makes you jump out of your stupor. You walk backwards out of the lobby just to keep looking at Joel for as long as you can. “For the record,” you say, “you’re a good man, Joel.”
“Don’t be so sure, honey,” he replies, his tone playful. 
You laugh, hurrying out to David’s car as the door closes behind you. 
“This place is beautiful,” you said to Sam, the concierge working the front desk of your prospective apartment. The appropriate paperwork was in your arms, your eyes scanning every inch of the old building. Of all the places you'd seen in and around the neighbourhood, this was the most promising. You hoped to get a glimpse at a unit before you signed, though. Assuming the landlord even wanted you to live here. 
Sam smiled at you. “Lots of people just see the cracks.”
“There's so much character,” you replied, admiring the crystal chandelier. The walls were a calming, aged white, the floors genuine hardwood. The lobby was decorated with plush chairs upholstered with burnt orange fabric, the corners filled with real potted plants. 
The door opened behind you, and you turned to see a handsome stranger, dressed in a pair of dirty jeans and mud-caked shirt, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Behind you, Sam said, “This is Joel Miller. The landlord.”
“Oh!” You were flustered, floundering to stretch out your hand to shake as you introduced yourself. “I’m sorry to catch you at a bad time. This building is gorgeous. You've done a great job with it, Mr. Miller.”
The landlord did not once look at Sam, his eyes fixed solely on you as he wiped a hand on the cloth slung over his shoulder and shook your hand. His hand engulfed yours, warm and rough. The touch jolted you like an electric shock. Your hands must have been clammy and shaking with nerves, but the contact steeled you. 
The intensity of his gaze, however, made you shift on your feet. He didn't waver, didn't stray, like a man set on a mission. Nothing about him was shy. He drank in the sight of you, indulging without shame, his eyes travelling to the next destination once they'd had their fill. It made you feel stripped to the bone.
“It's nice to meet you,” he said. “Sorry for the dirt. Just finished weeding.”
You shook your head in dismissal. “You really take care of this place.”
“It's good work,” he said plainly. “Serves me well. I like gettin’ my hands dirty, fixin’ things.”
“Where were you when my sink broke every week at my old place?”
“Fixing the sinks in this one.”
You laughed. “Well, for what it's worth, the outside is beautiful, too. Not a weed in sight.”
“Pleased to hear it,” said Joel, his dark eyes glittering under the chandelier. 
“You're from Texas!” you said suddenly. Oh, God, kill me now. I sound like a stalker. 
But Joel smiled, a raspy laugh leaving his mouth. You wondered if he laughed often. He looked like a serious man. “You familiar?” 
“I was born there,” you supplied. “Left when I was young, but my dad lived there all his life.”
“Lookin’ good on you already,” he said. “It’ll be nice havin’ another one of us around.”
“Does that mean you're considering me?” you couldn't help but ask. Fuck, you wanted this apartment. 
“I've already considered,” said Joel, his eyes sweeping your body. “You're the only applicant.”
Your hands were trembling and your heart thrummed with excitement. “Oh, God, thank you!” you gasped. “Joel, thank you.”
You could swear his chest swelled a bit at your graciousness. “I can show you the unit, if you’d like. It needs some TLC, but I’m happy to help with the process as best I can. Unless you have someone to…”
You realised what he was hinting at and shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s just me. I’d love to take a look.”
You noted the slight drop of his shoulders and followed him into the elevator. A part of you was surprised to see there was no gate that closed you in; they were plain, somewhat modern elevator doors. “Fixed it last month,” Joel said, looking sideways at you. “Just in time, apparently.”
You grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Nice to see there's no creepy operator in here.”
“Just me.” He punched the button for the third floor and rode with you to the top. 
This was the start of your new life. 
You shut the passenger’s side door and situate yourself inside David’s Lincoln. He’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a clean Henley. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss you across the console. 
You hum, smiling against his mouth. “You clean up nice, too.”
He places a hand on your thigh and pulls away from the curb. He's a touchy person, which is perfectly fine considering how long your latest dry spell has lasted, but at least he isn't inching his way up your dress to cop a feel while he drives. 
The festival is bustling with people, tented stands, and the smell of fried dough and beer. It’s almost dinnertime, and your stomach growls. When was the last time you ate? You spent hours agonising over what to wear until you were sweating and had to shower all over again. You wish you’d snuck an apple into your purse. 
David pulls you into him as you both walk through the winding paths between vendors. “It’s a beautiful night,” you say breezily. 
David squeezes your waist. “Mmm. You’re beautiful.”
A bit too corny for your taste, but you let it slide. “Don't tell me you're allergic to powdered sugar, because I’ve been eyeing the elephant ears.”
“God, if I eat that shit, I think it’ll set me back a month at the gym,” he laughs. “Let’s get one for you, though.”
Great. Now you're the expensive date who eats while her date watches her stuff her mouth with an elephant ear. “Uh. Maybe later.” 
You stop at a jewellery vendor and spend a good while eyeing up a beautiful gold necklace and the heart-shaped pendant dangling from it. David doesn’t notice your staring and breezes by with your hand firmly in his. “Let's check out the grand stand. My buddy’s band is playing before the fireworks display.”
“Sure,” you say, turning your head to watch the necklace disappear slowly from view. 
The gigantic domed stage houses a group of musicians currently tuning up their instruments. David sidles right up to the front and releases your hand to execute an elaborate handshake with his friend, who’s fine-tuning his bass. 
“Hey, man,” greets the bass player. “Good to see you. Who’s this?”
You open your mouth to introduce yourself, stretching your hand out, but David says, “My date for tonight. Baby, this is Ray, of Uncontrolled Bleeding fame.”
The bass player shakes your hand politely. “Very nice to meet you.” 
Because it doesn’t seem to matter much to David, you decide it’s worth the time to tell Ray your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ray. I’m excited to hear you play.”
Not that you've ever heard of a band called Uncontrolled Bleeding. Still, Ray seems nice enough, and you're on a date. You should give them a chance. 
David squeezes your waist and kisses you lightly on the temple. “You mind if I go backstage for a bit to say hi to the other guys? Won’t be long.”
What?
“Oh!” you manage to eke out over the great swooping nosedive your heart has just performed. He’s here to see his friends. He’s not on a date. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll just… walk around.”
David departs with Ray for a personal backstage tour while you bite down on your tongue and turn back in the direction of the main strip. A few vendors catch your attention, and you take your time because God knows David is taking his. A little bit of you revels in your own petty victory when, a half-hour later, Uncontrolled Bleeding begins to blare their metallic, screaming anthems across the park and you haven’t returned to the grand stand. 
You find your way back to the jewellery vendor to ponder over your favourite necklace some more, but your night gets worse when you find that it’s disappeared from the headless display mannequin. You solemnly slide your wallet back into your bag and pause when you hear your phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” It’s David’s voice, presumably, though it’s so loud on the other end of the line that you can barely make out his words. “I can’t… where… left?”
You plug one ear and look vaguely in the direction of the grand stand across the park. “I can’t hear you very well, David.”
“… afterparty… downtown… going… Uber home?”
You press your lips together and look down at the ground: at your pretty sandals, your new dress. Your entirely wasted potential on a guy who wanted you to find your own way home. “Yeah, David,” you say tightly. You don’t particularly care if he can hear you. “You have fun with your friends.”
“Can’t hear… talk later… okay?”
You hang up and wander back toward the vendor selling elephant ears. 
~
“Miller.”
“Hi, Joel.”
“Honey, it’s loud. Can barely hear you. Are you safe?”
“I’m safe, Joel, I promise. It’s just—Uncontrolled Bleeding.”
“What?”
“No, I mean, the band. They’re really loud. I hate to ask, and I know it’s late, but—”
“What do you need?”
“I, uh… I need a ride home. I can’t get a cab, and all the Ubers around are taken, and the busses are rerouted all the way—”
“I’m comin’ to get you. You just wait for me at the entrance, okay, baby girl?”
“Thank you, Joel.”
“You know I said you could call me for anything. I meant it.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Oh! Wait—”
“What? What is it?”
“Do you want an elephant ear?”
~
Joel is white-knuckling the steering wheel when he arrives to pick you up. Despite the congestion around the festival grounds and the fact that your apartment is at least fifteen minutes away, Joel makes it to you in a mere five.
“Did you blow every red light to get here, Mr. Miller?” you ask with a playful smile as you secure your seatbelt and settle on the truck bench.
“I was in the area,” he says with a crooked smile, looking your way. “May have pushed forty a couple times, though.”
You sheepishly extend a cardboard takeout box filled with fried, powdered dough. “Will you take this as my sincere thanks, or will you expect a separate batch of lemon squares?”
Joel answers by dipping his head and taking a bite of the flattened, doughy bread. You watch every minute movement, his strong jaw working as he chews, indulging you even though he’s already done far too much to get you out of this rut. He doesn’t once break eye contact while he eats; you begin to chew subconsciously on your bottom lip.
“Ain’t bad,” he declares at last, and your shoulders deflate with a kind of relief, “but if you let me take you for some real dinner, I’ll forget about that extra batch.”
You tentatively reach for his mouth and swipe some powdered sugar from his moustache with the pad of your thumb. You feel his eyes scanning your face all the while. “Look at me, the lucky girl,” you say softly. “One date goes wrong, and there’s a strong, handsome man waiting to take me on another.”
From the very first day, Joel Miller has always taken his time when it comes to looking at you. It’s a penetrative stare that makes your skin heat up from the tips of your ears down to your chest. His eyes are so dark, pools of warm melted sugar, and you feel yourself leaning, trancelike, slow, into that cavernous gaze. Your body is not your own. It seeks the subtle warmth, the familiar scent—sawdust, coffee beans, rich, dark cologne—and the violent torrent of sensation that erupts from the contact point when he cups your cheek in one hand. 
You’re in the throes of attention, warm as a candle weeping fat waxen tears.
“Told you before,” says Joel, his thumb sweeping fondly across your chin, “you deserve somethin’ real.”
“Yeah,” you sigh happily, feeling all-too complacent under the touch of his rough palm, “maybe I do.”
Behind you, a car honks its horn, and Joel curses, pulling away from the curb. He takes you to Turner’s, a bar by campus that would be crawling with students if it weren’t for the festival. Joel comes around to the passenger’s door and opens it for you, helping you hop out with your hand enclosed in his. His palm is a steady weight on your back as you both walk inside the dim, stuffy bar. 
The back is bustling with activity—drunk folks playing pool or watching the Huskies’ football game or splitting their attention between both—but the bar itself has enough spaces open to fit the two of you. Here, the light is burnt orange, and it makes the strands of grey in his hair shimmer gold. His eyes observe his surroundings with a military precision before they flit back to you, magnetic.
“Shame to waste this dress on that asshole,” says Joel, sweeping his gaze down, back up, barely perceptible. “You’re too goddamn pretty for any of ‘em.”
You’re deliciously abuzz with the incisive way he compliments you. It feels like being punctured down to your very soul; you will never forget the shape of the stain his words leave. “Do you spy on all my dates, Joel?”
He smirks. “Don’t need to spy on ‘em, baby. They’re a bunch of obnoxious kids.”
You huff, resting your cheek against your palm. “I just don’t get it. I thought David was just fine. Then, he takes me on a date just to abandon me for his friends and tell me to find my own way home.”
Joel shakes his head, scoffing as he runs his fingers through his beard. He does that when he’s frustrated sometimes, and you wonder if his hair is soft or coarse. “Piece of shit doesn't know how good he got it.”
“You must know something I don’t,” you say mirthlessly, watching the bartender approach from the other end of the long honey-oak block. “I haven't been able to get a second date since I moved in.”
Joel is silent, eyes still firmly fixed to you, until the bartender arrives, a charming middle-aged woman with a particular Texan twang you could recognise from a mile away. “What’ll it be, Joel?” she asks, giving him a sweet dimpled smile. “Hi, honey. This old man botherin’ you?”
“Only in a nice way,” you reply, squeezing his shoulder. 
Joel hides his grin with a swipe of his fingers over his bottom lip. “Coffee for me, Rina. Drivin’ home.”
Rina’s eyes slide to you, and you ask for the same. You don't want to drink alone. She reappears moments later with two small, chipped mugs of dark roast in her hands. Setting them in front of you, she takes your food orders: a BLT for Joel and a veggie burger for yourself. It’s almost ten o’clock now, too late to eat, but your eyes droop sleepily and your stomach growls for a taste of real food. The powdered dough, shockingly, did not suffice. 
“You ever miss Texas?” Joel asks once you're halfway into your respective meals. You notice that he only digs into his sandwich when you aren't eating, and abstains briefly to watch while you take your bites. It's an exchange of energy, a steady vigil by your side, the hypnotic pull of his warm body. You cannot scoot any closer to him, but your leg brushes his where you rest your foot on his barstool. 
“I wish I remembered more of it,” you tell him. “I grew up a big city girl. Even lost my accent a year into being away. My dad would tease me about it all the time. Said I’d been gentrified.” You fondly shake your head. “Miss him like hell.”
“I can still hear it sometimes,” says Joel, tilting his head to the side, “when you get all passionate about somethin’. Like the time I installed your deadbolt and you tried to explain away your Backstreet Boys CD.”
You put your head in your hands. “Oh, God. I thought you'd forgotten.”
“Nuh-uh, baby, you ain't easy to forget. And I like when you get excited. You get this look in your eye.”
“Yeah?” You slide your foot up his ankle and bring the leg of his jeans with it. Up, down, you keep going, letting the relative darkness embolden you, his sweet little pet names and his silent adequacy enabling what is most definitely inappropriate behaviour. “Tell me about this look, Joel.”
He rests his elbow up on the bar and squares his broad shoulders to you. They eclipse all the other patrons behind him. “You've got pretty eyes,” he tells you. “First thing I noticed when I met you all those months ago. Saw how they lit up when you smiled. Heard your happiness when you told me about Texas. It was nice to be the reason you smiled, ‘n’ I just wanted to make it happen again. I couldn't say no to you. Don't know how any man ever could.”
The revelation stuns you in your seat. His expression telegraphs little save for his attentiveness, his posture locked parallel with yours, singularly focused on the way you react to him. 
You try for a joke. “And I was the only applicant.”
It crumbles, sand in your mouth. Something has shifted. Joel isn't the type to shy away from a conversation, but his gaze hasn't once shifted from your face. It feels like flames licking your cheeks, the heat of that look pushing in on both sides, inescapable. You find that you enjoy the way his attention makes you preen; you want him to look at you. 
He thinks you have pretty eyes. 
“You know that ain't the reason why,” he says, whisper-quiet and gruff amid the vague chatter in the bar. 
“Why, Joel?” you ask, spine straightening, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. As you suspected, his eyes flick down your face, lashes obscuring the precise shade of his irises. 
His Adam’s apple dips. “‘Cause I like you,” he says, the feeling of it like the slide of suede down your spine, “and I wanna keep you safe.”
You shrug slightly, giving him a smile. “I feel pretty safe.”
Joel’s hand drops to the bar top and his fingertips brush yours. The touch jolts your sleepy mind awake. “You're too good for every single one of those assholes you bring around. You know that, right?”
“I’m beginning to understand.” 
“You deserve someone who's gonna be good to you. Give you all the attention you need. Make you… happy.”
You swallow thickly, the candle flame pressing in, sucking the oxygen from your lungs. “Thank you, Joel.”
His fingers begin to creep up every ridge of your knuckles, slowly turning over your palm so it faces the ceiling. The rough pad of his thumb traces the long lifeline inside. 
“Repeat it.”
His eyes lift to yours, and for a moment, there’s something in them that ignites an instinct inside you to flee. There's danger in those eyes: the careful, measured restraint of a man who knows more anger than he lets show. A flicker, brief but incandescent, passes through your head, an electrical current. 
He’s the reason you never had a second date. 
It disappears the instant it comes, the Paterian glimpse of an idea in its entirety fleeing for the horizon, and the instinct recedes in favour of the warm, melting sensation his fingers disseminate through your bones. 
“I deserve someone who will be good to me,” you repeat, like a mantra. “I deserve someone who’s going to make me happy, and keep me safe.”
“That's right,” says Joel, brushing his thumb along the veins in your wrist. You feel the shiver, but you're locked to him, your eyes unable to take in any information apart from the way he feels, looks, smells. “You're a good girl, baby.”
Your lashes flutter and a sweeping rush of pressure descends on your core at the way those words sound on his tongue. You picture him directing you to your knees and calling you a good girl while you take his big cock between your lips, imagine the way he would hiss through his teeth, good fuckin’ girl, that’s it, baby girl, while he fucks you from behind, merciless. Hands and tongues and limbs would mould into one another, amalgamate, becoming indistinguishable. 
He would be good to you. You know it. He’s always been good to you. 
“Joel?” 
“Hmm.” Fingers still make idle patterns on your forearm. 
“I think you should take a look at my sink when you get a chance. It might be broken.”
No amount of coy suggestion could make him ignorant to your desire for closeness. You can feel your body screaming for it, grasping at him with buffed claws. Joel smirks, looking down at your foot making a path up and down his ankle. 
“I’ll take a look tomorrow.”
~
It’s two o’clock in the morning when a shuffling outside your bedroom door guides you out of a decent sleep. In total silence, the most minute noises can be deafening. But it sounds, to your sleep-addled brain, like the hasty retreat of footsteps. 
You blink awake, shifting onto your other side to peer above the darkness of your doorway. Through the bleary haze in your eyes, you notice a tiny red light in the upper corner of the room.  
You squint, rubbing your eyes furiously to pry them open wide, but your vision is the static grain of an old television, and your eyes refuse to adjust. Instead, you grumble, pulling your comforter over your head, and go back to sleep. 
You’ll tell Joel tomorrow.
THE LANDLORD
He cannot wait until the morning.
The nighttime, he discovered long ago, is a friend. It’s the gentle descent of darkness, the horizontal fall of the golden-hour sunlight scanning the entirety of the apartment before it at last succumbs to silent, tar-black night. Occasionally, a car will pass below, or the honk of a horn will tear jaggedly through the quiet, but most times, Joel can sink comfortably into the dark and assume his post.
Six months ago, he showed some restraint. 
Of course, the connection was instantaneous—the pretty girl standing in his foyer with a radiant smile on her face, drinking in the chipped paint and ancient railings and furniture imprinted with years of use, arrested all movement of his heart. You wore a white dress and a pair of strappy sandals, not suited whatsoever for walking the city but perfectly tailored to make an impression. You arrived punctually, all smiles and handshakes and Southern politeness despite your insistence that you'd left it all behind. You shone. And when Joel slid his rough, work-worn hand into yours, dipping his gaze to watch the way he dwarfed your fingers, he felt a tremor roll gently from your body to his, thunder over a mountain. He wanted to chase the next lightning strike. 
It began leisurely, like a hobby, something he could go to when life got a little much. He watched you come home, examining the way your shoulders rounded slightly when you were upset and the way you wiggled your fingers in a wave to those passing by when you were happy. He watched, typically from the garden out front, as you pranced about your balcony on cool mornings to the electronic croonings of Britney Spears, curled up in a chair with a blanket over your legs and a coffee mug warming your hands, or watered your thriving plants from where they hung in the direct morning sunlight. Your day-to-day became his day-to-day. 
And then, he was doing more than merely watching. He was following. 
Your favourite coffee place by the apartment building, just a block away. He lingered far behind that first morning, his fingers twitching in your direction before the rest of his body steered him. The neighbourhood wasn't so great back then, prone to muggings and the like. He wanted to keep you safe. That was all.
You ordered something cold, too sweet for his tastes, and sat for a while as you worked. The barista spent the rest of your time there eyeing you up whenever he could. Joel scoffed. He wouldn't know what the fuck to do with you. Just a goddamn kid. 
He followed you to work and back, on those rare days he wasn't occupied maintaining the grounds. You sat in a corner cubicle with a decent amount of sunlight and typed away on your laptop all day. Joel monitored the company’s publications just so he could have a glimpse of the way you wrote; he wasn't interested in makeup, but he bought a subscription to Viva because he wanted to trace his fingers over your name in those small italic letters. MANAGING EDITOR. 
Your writing is clean, efficient, and smooth. It reads like velvet. He keeps a pile of magazines and newsletters tucked in the back of his bookshelf. For the August edition, they printed your interview with a local prizewinning novelist; you beamed in the picture, photographed in your favourite coffee shop, so happy and so generous, sharing your talent with others. 
He was so fucking proud. 
Five months ago, he watched you bring a date home for the first time. 
It blindsided him. He could not prepare, plan, or sabotage. He could not do a thing as you guided the man—a fucking kid with a too-big ego, grinning smugly for his imminent conquest—inside the elevator. Joel could only watch helplessly, wiping his brow from his precarious place on the ladder, as you walked past him with no more than a soft, sweet smile. He never forgot the painful imprint of that smile on his eyelids. It still burns his eyes late at night, when he stays awake inside his office, monitoring his dual screens. He will pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes just to replay the memory of that look. 
The kid left the next morning, before you woke. He never contacted you again. You trudged into the lobby that day, a weariness in your eyes that did not match the vibrant colour of your dress. You spoke idly to another woman in the elevator about your broken thermostat, hugging yourself to keep warm. 
It was working perfectly a few hours later, and there was a bouquet of roses waiting for you at the concierge’s desk. Fiddling with the red ribbon, tears welling in your eyes, you asked who the admirer was. Sam shrugged his shoulders, but when you turned to look out the front windows, you saw Joel tending to the red roses in the garden bed. 
It earned him the first taste of your baking. Biting into one of those moist, warm brownies felt like melting a little piece of you down and moulding it into the shape of his mouth. It felt like taking a piece of the girl he’d coveted for weeks and rolling it over his tongue, keeping it. Swallowing it down. There it rested inside his stomach until the next time he did you right. 
He wanted to tell you no. To insist that he would do anything to make you feel good even if you wanted nothing to do with him. To make it clear that he did everything for you, not for some feeble professional relationship between a landlord and his tenant. He breathed you. He needed you. 
So, four months ago, he began to watch you through the cameras.
They’re small, discreet, tucked into holes in the wall that have been spackled over, repainted, re-sanded. He ran the wiring while you were at work, listening to your CDs on loop to get a better sense of the earworms you hummed on your way out the door every morning. One in the living room, one by the entrance, and one in the bedroom. 
He could keep you safe this way. This way, he would know if those men you brought you home were treating you right—fucking you like you deserved. 
You were so goddamn pretty when you came. For months Joel had sat in his office, slicked-up cock in his hand, jerking himself hard and fast to the pictures of you in Viva. For months he’d spilled over his fingers, on his belly, on the glossy pages of the magazines. The heady, cloying scent of his own sweat and cum stuck to his nostrils. It wasn’t enough. He could imagine wrenching open your tight little pussy all he wanted—the slow, heavy drag of his cock between your hot, wet walls and the sweet noises he’d steal from your tongue—but it wasn’t the satisfaction he needed. 
Joel needed you. Your body, your smile, your voice. He needed to wrap you tight around every vein, a tourniquet, squeezing until all feeling was lost.
You would be his, in time. He just needed to make it so.
The first time he watched you pleasure yourself, rain pattered gently against the window panes and thunder echoed in the distance. A couple grids had already lost power, and Joel had a backup generator if the apartment was next, but you did not seem to mind one bit that the storm drew closer. You clicked off the television, retired to the confines of your bed and its soft white linens, and slipped your hand beneath your flimsy shorts. Joel sat upright, his back creaking in protest, his knuckles white around the edge of his desk as he watched, unblinking, the way your fingers gently circled your clit. 
He didn't touch his cock once that night, no matter how deeply his own need tugged at him. He couldn't look away from the camera feed for fear that he may miss the moment you reached your orgasm. 
When it arrived, it was delicious to watch. Your back arched, your lips parted, and your eyes fluttered shut, fingers rapidly rubbing your slick pussy as you seized under your own ministrations and slowly settled, melting into the mattress. He needed to see more. He needed to be there. 
You were a chiaroscuro of savoury, sultry magnetism and the ichor of the morning sunlight. You were kind and thoughtful. You were gentle, patient, attentive. You were one hell of a baker. You were so fucking sexy it made his tongue prickle with the prospective taste, the anticipation of touching your soft skin engulfing any sense. Reason had no place in Joel Miller’s mind when it came to the sweet girl upstairs. 
Three months ago, you had recovered from the evident betrayal inherent in expecting more from your date than a one-night stand. The next man was older, a partner at a law firm, and took you to dinner at a nice restaurant. He asked questions about you and reciprocated your enthusiasm for good cuisine. He was kind and treated you well. But an incendiary rage ignited in Joel at the sight of the bastard’s hand on your lower back. Another man was touching you. Another man was getting close to you, making you smile, whispering in your ear. Another man was attempting to claim what was rightfully his. 
Joel followed your date home that night instead. He lived in a high-rise downtown, the sort of building that had a doorman and a valet. 
Joel followed him down to the underground lot with a lead pipe in hand. 
“‘scuse me.”
He shut his car door and turned around, giving Joel a polite smile. “What can I do for you?”
A calculated sheepish scratch on the back of his head. “Just… ah, shit, I don’t mean to bother, but my engine isn't turnin' over and my phone died. Mind if I used yours?”
He patted his pockets for his cell and gave it enthusiastically. Joel did not take the phone. He used the proximity to pull the man close and bring the pipe down across his head. 
Blood bloomed, pretty and potent and rich as the roses he planted for you. The body made little noise, the skull shattered upon impact, the legs crumpling. It could never have been much of a man, going down so fucking quick. Should've put up a fight. 
The man must not have liked you very much to let himself die. Joel, whose eyelids were tattooed with your radiant smile, would have crawled his way back out of a certain grave. Joel loved you. You belonged to him. This was a necessary consequence. 
The pipe was dented by the time he was finished. Joel sank to his knees once the body fell, bringing it down again and again, the meticulous arc of the rusted metal uniquely stirring. It felt so fucking good, battering the skull to pieces, blood and brain and bone fragments accumulating on the ground and the pipe and his face. It felt good knowing he had kept another man from betraying you, hurting you, fucking you only to leave in a blur. He was being altruistic. He was becoming a good man for you. 
Joel, kneeling in the pool of warm blood until his jeans were soaked crimson, rubbed his hand down his face and smeared the blood across it. Chest heaving, he let the grin stretch his face. 
He had found his calling. 
Two months ago, he slipped inside your apartment while you were asleep.
You had a rough day. Your boss insisted the company could not afford to give you a raise despite skyrocketing share prices and all the fucking work you’d done for them. The rain started just before you left the building, holding back tears, and a car splashed icy, muddy water on you during your walk home. Salt in the wound. You were sniffling as you let yourself into the apartment, your hands trembling with the effort of shouldering your bag and your misery. Joel approached you from behind and lifted the bag onto his shoulder. 
“Hi, Joel.” Sad and soft and still so polite despite it all. 
“Hey.” He opened every door for you on the way to the elevator and rode it up with you for good measure. “Wanna talk about it?”
You just shook your head and sidled up next to him, your cheek resting on his shoulder. He held his breath, overcome with the sensation that if he moved an inch, the spell would break, and the comfort you sought from him would slip between your fingers. Your arm brushed his, your dewy lashes fluttering as you finally let yourself relax. Joel inhaled, and the scent of you cleaved him down the middle: rain and perfume. 
“Would you give me a raise?”
He looked down at you and smiled. “For a batch of those cupcakes, I’d give you whatever you like.”
It was a half-truth. He’d give you whatever you wanted, cupcakes or no. The sound of your laughter dripped into his bloodstream, saline. It cleansed him of the wrongs he'd committed. He was doing what needed to be done. The world had to realise it turned for you, and then all would be right. 
Hours later, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, shrouded by distant skyscrapers, he sneaked his way inside. His master key made easy work of the lock, but he had to pull the chain lock off with a pair of pliers because his hands could not reach between the gap. He made clinical work of it and stepped inside. 
There was a chair in the corner of your bedroom for days you felt like reading by the window. Joel lowered himself into it and began his vigil. 
It was a science to study the way you slept. He began to learn the patterns of your breathing, the minute movements of your limbs and how they translated to the moods of your dreaming. The amount of times you turned around, groaned, or hummed correlated directly to the sort of day you'd had. He began to map your tells in his head, drawing them out, formulating blueprints of the simple things that made you. 
To Joel, it was like connecting a red string between thumb tacks, like pouring the varnish over a finished painting, sealing a promise, closing an envelope. He enjoyed the satisfactory slotting of each puzzle piece into place, creating your image, finally knowing you.
By then, he’d caught the virus. He’d let himself get close, and now he was infected with it—that insatiable need to be near, to watch, to admire from mere feet away. 
He continued to acquaint himself over the weeks with your sleeping self to supplement the time he could not spend with you while you were awake. On more than one occasion, he got careless, letting himself succumb to sleep in that corner chair, joining you in the dream world. In those dreams, you were wrapped up in his body, warm and soft and tight, and he was taking. He was behind you, on top of you, beneath you, forcing you to look in the mirror as he spread you open on his cock and wrapped his fingers around your throat. In those dreams, your eyes rolled back and your lips moulded to the shape of Joel, yes, oh my God, and he'd whisper back to you—my sweet girl, my good fuckin’ girl, all mine. 
And you were. You were his. 
Tonight, he followed you to the festival. 
He watched you make a beeline for the necklace you wanted only to pout when you saw it had disappeared. He watched your face fall as David’s rejection sank bone-deep. He reeled in his own gnawing rage, pushing deep down that urge to storm right in and rip out the asshole’s throat with his goddamn teeth, and waited until you called him. 
He knew you would. You trusted him. You needed him. You needed a strong, capable man to take care of you the way you deserved. So he waited inside his truck by the phone, happy to at last hear your sweet voice on the other end of the line. 
Thank you, Joel. 
He tucked those words under his ribs, letting them flower and spread. Those words gave him purpose, made him buzz with erratic energy, validated all his actions. He was doing everything right. 
Your dress was so fucking pretty. Jesus, he wanted to slip his hands under the hem, finger the waistband of those pink panties he knew you were wearing, and bunch the fabric up around your hips as he stuffed you full of his dick. Fuck, he would fill you up with his cum and tuck your panties back over your abused pussy, keeping all of him safe inside. You’d be so happy. You’d get drunk off his cock, begging for it, crying for it. He’d give you everything. 
You do feel safe with him. You said it yourself. 
Now, leaning against the doorway in your bedroom, Joel turns the heart-shaped pendant over and over in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the smooth gold surface. It’s cool and quaint and will kiss your skin beautifully. But he needs to wait for the right time. He needs to make sure you’re ready. 
The sense memory of your fingers on his skin, gracious and gentle, the way you always are, is pushing at the edges of his control. 
There's no one like you. He’s never been more certain of anything. 
You're so goddamn sweet in those tiny silk pyjamas, your body curled up on the bed and your leg slung over a large pillow. You may feel cold and lonely at night, but that's only for now. He won't let you feel alone much longer; his body calls to you, singing your name. He has only so much restraint, and he's been waiting for six months. 
Your lips are slightly parted, your face smooth and serene under the spell of sleep. You're the reason he fixes what's broken. The world needs to be better for you. It needs to be safe and bright and perfect. 
He planted tulips today. You’ll appreciate them, he thinks. He wants you to wake up to vibrant colours every morning and go to sleep knowing that he thinks about you. 
You shift slightly in your sleep, a soft moan leaving your mouth as you hug the pillow closer. Joel straightens in the doorway, wondering if your mind can sense him nearby. He doesn't know what he would do with himself if you were dreaming about him. His eyes move from your pretty face down your chest, barely concealed by the tiny top you're wearing, to find the apex of your thighs, temptingly spread on the mattress. 
He won't. He can't. You’ll never trust him if he loses himself to desire. Joel grits his teeth, his cock achingly hard in his jeans, and unbuckles his belt as silently as he can. He pulls out his dick and squeezes himself at the base, staving off what he knows will be a too-fast orgasm. You move again, your body stretching out on the bed. Joel spits into his palm and begins to stroke his cock. 
He can see a sliver of your waist where your shirt rides up, half of your ass where your leg is slung over the pillow, and your tits smushed together just over the hem of that scrap of a top. You're all of his fucking fantasies rolled into one. Joel breathes hard through his nostrils, his fist tight around the tip of his cock. 
He wants to shuck down those little shorts and put his face in your pretty pussy. He wants to grab your hips and guide his cock inside you. He wants to slide into your addictive cunt until you forget your name. Until you forget every name but his. Your soul will be stained with him. His has never forgotten your shape.
God, your tight pussy would feel so fucking good around his cock. He jerks himself roughly, bracing his hand against the doorframe when a little whimper leaves your mouth. Fuck, he mouths, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw begins to ache. He fucks his own fist, sloppy and unrefined, eyes fixed to your waiting pussy between creamy-soft thighs. His cock dwarfs your slit, eager to spread you open—he’ll fix so nicely once he gets you ready. 
Joel feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up, his jaw taut as he brings himself to a high over your body the way he has so many times. He switches so he can jerk off into the hand around which his gift to you is coiled, spilling his cum all over his fingers and the necklace as he bites into the heel of his palm. His spine decompresses and his cock slowly softens in his hand, the tension briefly relieved. His fist gradually loosens around the cum-slick necklace; the heart has imprinted its shape into his palm. 
You stir, turning over in your bed, and Joel hastily departs, tucking his cock back into his jeans. He has enjoyed this brief interlude, but he has work to do. 
Besides, he’ll see you in a few hours. He knows damn well the sink works just fine, but he’ll take any excuse to see you again. And it seems you’ll do the same. 
~
Joel keeps him in a spare apartment in the building, one whose walls have been padded for soundproofing. 
Joel’s sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he's occupying the chair across from David, who's taking his sweet fuckin’ time waking up. Joel’s been pacing for a half-hour, rubbing his fingers over his bottom lip, contemplative, but the bastard won't move. 
So Joel takes a seat, grabs a fistful of the kid’s hair, and yanks it forcefully so he’s staring him right in the face. 
One eye is already blackened—Joel got a little carried away. The sedative worked perfectly, but David has a punchable face. It took all he had not to keep going. 
“Mornin’, sunshine,” says Joel as the kid slowly blinks awake, bleary and unfocused. “Eyes on me, now. Don't want you slippin’ away again.”
David only stares for a moment, gears grinding gently to life in his brain Once that animal instinct kicks in, the kid starts writhing against his restraints, bucking hard in Joel’s unrelenting grip. It's useless, of course. He’s tied by the wrists and ankles. Helpless. 
Good. 
“What—why the fuck… let me fucking go, man, please,” groans the kid. 
“You made a mistake, David,” says Joel. “Think I’m gonna forget about that?”
David whimpers, flexing his hands subconsciously as pain undoubtedly prickles his scalp. Joel hasn't let go of his hair. “Please just let me go, man. I swear I didn't do anything. If you want money, I’ve got money.”
Joel smirks, a scoff slipping out. This is rich. The delectable flame licks up his throat again, indistinguishable from the pleasure of a good meal, a good fuck. It's craving. It’s darkness. He sinks deeper. 
“You think it's manly to leave your date for your friends and leave her to find a way home herself? You think it's funny to treat her like a little toy and then leave her when you're done?” Joel sneers. “You didn't even call her back, David.”
He whines out another please, his ankles ineffectually kicking out. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Just let me go. Fuck, it hurts.”
“You don't know,” says Joel, repeating it, slow and savoury, rolling it around in his mouth. “You wanna know the most insulting part, David? You don't even care. You made her upset, and you didn't get on your goddamn knees to beg her forgiveness. You didn't do everything in your fuckin’ power to get her back.” Joel brings the knife from his pocket and idly pushes the tip into David’s cheek. “You think she ain't worth that, David? Tell me the truth, now.”
David shrieks, hysterical, the terror and pain so fucking delicious that Joel gulps it down and yet still wants. 
“Are you fucking kidding me? No bitch is fucking worth it. She was cute, but that's it, I swear. I didn't know she had a boyfriend. I wouldn't have—”
The knife digs, gouges, splitting skin and prodding muscle. Joel can feel the edge of the blade slot between the kid’s teeth. He howls, screaming for help to nobody that can help, not quite gone enough yet to realise his utter hopelessness. Joel will have to rectify that.
“Oh, I ain't her boyfriend yet,” Joel says calmly. “But I am hers, way she's mine. And you hurt what's mine. I can’t forget that.”
The knife retreats to admire its handiwork. The cheek is split, the edges jagged, spitting blood. The kid’s tears slip down his face and dip into the wound, salty enough to hurt. He screams and he cries and it’s beginning to get on Joel’s nerves.
“Please stop,” he cries, watching his assailant rear back and grip the knife tight, like an ice pick. “Please… fuck, please—!”
He’s getting real sick of that word. Please. A mere please can’t excuse the look he put on your face last night. A please will not absolve him of the cardinal sin. 
No one—no one—makes you frown. 
Joel sinks the knife into David’s knee, using both hands to drive it to the hilt. The kid’s face is ashen, white and grey as clouds rolling in, and his frail screams begin to peter out; he’s losing consciousness. Joel won’t have that—not until he’s finished.
“Stop whinin’, David. A real man falls in front of his woman and makes things right. A real man fixes what's broken. And a real man”—he twists the knife, gorging, glutting on the feeling of making amends on your behalf—“does everything in his power to show her he loves her.” 
“Please…” The final, feeble attempt of a doomed man to return from the cliff’s edge. 
Joel stands, adjusting his grip on the kid’s hair, and brings his knife just beneath his chin. When he drives it upward, he can see the shimmer of the blade through David’s slack, open mouth. 
“I told you to stop whinin’.” 
~
He’s in your bedroom again. 
He felt the need calling to him, vibrating with a particular intensity he could not ignore. He rarely comes to see you twice in one night, but now that he's here, he knows it was the only way to settle his nerves. 
You're asleep, lips parted against your pillow and a piece of hair fluttering in front of your face with every exhale. Joel approaches your bedside and tucks it safely behind your ear. You don't wake, but you hum sleepily, hugging your pillow closer. Joel smiles, satisfaction sinking deep and assured into his core. He's done right by you. You’ll go happily to him. Moth to a gemlike flame. 
He wanders around the edge of the bed, gaze lazily indulging in your body as he goes. His cock twitches again with a need he cannot yet meet, the desire to move your panties aside and fill you with him. He does not. He kneels at your bedside, closest to where your legs have scissored apart beneath your sheets. The temptingly sweet call of that warm place between your thighs has Joel shifting your comforter aside and ghosting his fingers across the soft skin of your calf. 
Your breathing deepens slightly, like you're sucking in a long mouthful of air, and then you settle. It's the only indication you give that you can feel his presence. And then it’s gone, and he’s hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pretty panties and bestowing upon himself what he's only seen through screens for months. 
You're spread open and glistening, an indication of some preceding dream or fantasy playing out in that keen, busy mind. Your body is wholly pliant, so soft and glowing in the faint silvery light streaming in from the window, and it would be so easy to—
No. He will not taste you. If he does, he won’t stop. You need to trust him. There is blood on his hands that hasn’t yet washed clean, and he will not imprint those rust-red fingerprints on your body. You’re his world—what kind of man willingly imparts such pain onto a world he loves?
Some infinitesimal fractal lodged in Joel’s head obliged him to return to you tonight, to cleanse himself of the events that transpired under the illicit cover of night. The very sight of you reminds him what he’s doing this for. He crushes his nose into the wet spot that darkens your panties and inhales deeply, acquiring some sense of what you will taste like. The smell makes his head go fuzzy, intoxicated, tang and sweetness and impending gratification. In your sleep, you sigh, melting against the mattress.
Joel brings your panties back up over your pussy and thinks, Tomorrow. 
THE TENANT
You're miserable when Joel knocks on your door the next day. 
“He hasn't called me,” you tell him, letting yourself stew, sulking from the feeling of yet another man deciding you weren’t worth a follow-up phone call. “Am I repulsive? Am I a total freak? Is it something in my perfume?”
Joel looks down at you, lips parted as if on the precipice of a response, sweeping his gaze up and down your body. You’re wearing a simple sweater and skirt, but fuck, he can make you feel naked. His gaze penetrates deeper than flesh. It’s only then you realise he’s holding coffee. 
Two cups of coffee. 
“Oh, Joel,” you sigh, licking your bottom lip. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he says with a crooked smile, his voice a bit raspy, as if caught off-guard. He hands you your favourite drink—caramel macchiato, double espresso—from your favourite place down the block, and you could kiss him with how good it feels to hold the cool, condensation-slick cup in your hands. Your entire body deflates with the first sip. 
“You’re my hero,” you tell him. “I mean it.”
Joel shakes his head fondly. “You got a funny sense of heroics.”
“They taste exactly like this,” you say playfully, tracing the rim of the plastic cup. “Thank you, Joel.”
He swipes his thumb across your chin. “It’s only coffee, baby.”
Since last night, something is inexplicably different. A new, once-forbidden boundary has been crossed. It may be technically inappropriate for your landlord to bring you coffee, touch you so intimately, call you baby. But it makes you feel like warm melting honey, and who is to say a feeling like that is wrong?
He’s wearing a blue T-shirt today. His hair is tousled like he slept on it, and your fingers tingle with the anticipatory sensation of how it would feel to take fistfuls of his locks in your hands. He’s stunning. And you catch yourself staring too late, tearing your gaze away the way one retracts their hand after burning it on the stovetop. Your heart skittering, you direct Joel to the sink and plan some excuse in your head for why it has miraculously fixed itself overnight. 
But he doesn’t even spare a glance toward any of your appliances. He’s only looking at you. 
“I got somethin’ else,” he says, almost shy, reaching into his pocket for a tiny box. 
He grimaces when your eyes, wide and obviously panicked, meet his. “Jesus, I didn’t really think about how this looks. I’m not… proposin’, I swear.”
You both release a nervous laugh, but you cannot deny that your nerves are still fluttering at the sight of that simple suede box in his big hands.
He opens the lid and you gasp. It’s your necklace—the very same heart-shaped pendant you had been eyeing up at the festival. It’s shiny and polished and precisely, undeniably, the same one. “Oh my God,” you whisper, gently sliding your finger over the cool golden pendant. “It’s beautiful. Joel, how did you…”
“Turn around,” he says softly, the gentle direction guiding you better than any hand could. You obey, and Joel steps forward until his hard chest is flush to your back. He’s warm and sure and smells so good—cologne and coffee and mint and something potent, like iron—and all your questions fizzle to sparks in the air. You can no longer grasp for them. You reach out and you only find him.
His touch is careful. The heart-shaped pendant settles against your breastbone and shimmers in the afternoon light. Your chest briefly shimmers with the thought that you were made to wear this necklace. His large, rough hands ghost across the back of your neck as he secures the clasp, and you shiver. A single knuckle trails slowly down your spine, bumping every vertebrae on the way. 
“It ain't your perfume.” His deep, grumbling voice is equivalent to the scratch of his beard against your temple as his jaw moves with each word. “And you're nothin’ close to repulsive. Look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”
There is a mirror, a full-length one by the entrance to your apartment, and it's surreal to watch your own body turn to face it, to watch yourself defer entirely to the man behind you. It feels nice to just let him steer you every which way. 
“I see you,” you tell him, your hand lifting to the pendant on your throat. “And this.”
Joel clicks his tongue, his nose sliding up your temple. “What else do you see?”
You watch your lashes flutter, your head listing slightly to the side. “I see myself.”
“Hmm.” It’s a sound of approval, his palm now sliding around your waist and his arm banding across your body. He presses his hand to your hip bone and pulls you back against him. “Such a beautiful girl in that mirror. Ain't that right?”
“Joel, I…” You can feel his swelling erection prodding your ass and your head feels hazy with a heady, lustful desire you can no longer ignore or dismiss. “I don't think we should be…”
“No?” His mouth curves against your temple and you shiver at the coarse scratch of his moustache on your skin. It feels deliberate, premeditated. “I won’t tell a soul,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your hip right where the hem of your sweater begins to inch upward. You can see a strip of your own bare stomach in the mirror. He’s making your eyes droop, your lashes flutter, your body light up from one nerve ending to the next, a closed circuit.
Oh, God. His touch is measured, gentle yet barely restrained. It is dipping a finger into the water just as it nears its boiling point. Months of staring and dreaming and retreating to your bed to touch yourself to thoughts of someone you cannot touch have led you here: his necklace, his gift to you, sitting prettily on your throat, his capable hands moulding you slowly to the shape of him. He’s touching you. 
“You like me?” His voice rubs hard on your ears, sanding you down, smoothing the rough edges. He lets you linger on the precipice, a firm grip on your hand, letting you make the choice: to let go, or to reel yourself in. 
“I like you,” you whisper, snapping the tether and plummeting to the warm, wet earth below.
You watch Joel’s eyes close in the mirror, something like a prayer falling from his lips. It does not take the shape of words—it is gruff and yet soft, hardly loud enough to discern over the ringing in your ears—but it’s so reverent that you can picture yourself falling to your knees at the sound of it. 
His hand skims up your waist until he finds your throat, gently pinching your jaw so he can direct the turn of your head. You go easily, tilting your gaze back to rest your temple on his shoulder, as his other hand slides up from your hip to your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. “You like me enough to touch you like this?” 
You gasp, finding an anchor in the deep brown—nearly black, now—of his eyes. They’re warm  but they’re dangerous; once you look, the cage door slides shut, and you’re trapped. 
This must be one of your many dreams.
“Yes, Joel.”
“Mmm.” He smirks, teasing his tongue across his plush bottom lip. You watch the movement and feel yourself tightening, want want want a chorus in your ears. “You wanna kiss me, baby girl?”
Silently, you nod, your fingers gently sliding through his silky locks while your other hand seeks the strong balancing force of his shoulder. His smile sobers to a deep, stunning severity, and you cannot think to let it frighten you when you’re already slanting your mouth over his. 
It starts slowly. His mouth is soft, his hands deftly returning the fervour with which you hold him, cupping the back of your neck with his other hand warming your ribs. A small gasp escapes you, and a rumble of satisfaction passes from his chest through yours, and it flips an ineffable switch inside him. 
Joel turns you in his arms, his chest pressed to yours, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he walks you back toward it. Sufficiently cornered, you let your body melt into him, his palm now warming your lower back, his tongue feverishly seeking the seam of your lips. You let him pry you open, tasting the coffee and mint on his breath and inhaling the rich scent of him, sticking it with greedy hands to the walls of your brain. You’ll never tire of him, of this. 
He kisses you like a glutton seeking more fulfilment, like an aesthete seeking that exhilarating, fleeting moment in time, desperate and unwavering and famished. Tongues slide together, hands grope and wander, fabrics shift. You can feel your sweater lifting at the same time your fingers finally find the hem of his T-shirt, but he beats you to the chase. You’re dizzy by the time he breaks away to remove your shirt, but you dutifully lift your arms to help him. 
You seek his mouth again to resume the kiss, but Joel is decidedly feeling pious. He kisses his way down your throat, the necklace dangling from it, your sternum, your belly, sinking to his knees as he goes along. His hands are firm on your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place, while his mouth draws a map of you, eliciting the honeyed sensation of warm water dripping down your body.
“Oh, God,” you whisper, your head knocking back against the wall. It's so much. You've never been the object of attention quite like this, the marble statue at which the devout kneel, obsessive in their worship. You've never had a man fall to his knees to put his mouth all over you. 
Has he wanted you as long as you’ve pined for him? 
Joel grunts, his lips dragging open-mouthed kisses from one hip to another, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your skirt and yanking it down. You yelp, grasping his shoulders. 
Joel only growls into your skin, his hands dropping to your ass and kneading you while he continues down past your hips. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he grumbles. “So goddamn pretty. Don’t know how I waited this fuckin’ long. Jesus, baby girl, you're perfect. Goddamn perfect.”
His ramblings are poison. Every word infects, squeezing out your healthy cells, replacing them with the delicious scrape of fire against the ceiling of a room. The scratch of his beard. The sweet nurturing sound of his voice. The cared-for sensation of being kissed and touched and spoken to like you're someone worth a second date. Like you're worth the price of all the world and a couple stars, too. 
And so the words slip out, shy and whisper-quiet and your cheeks burning hot enough to blister. 
“Please, Daddy…”
Joel’s hands tighten on your body, a fractional movement that kicks up the frantic beating of your heart. He tilts his head back to gaze up into your eyes and you feel more naked with that single stare than ever before. 
“That what you need, sweet thing?” he says, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. “You need Daddy to make you feel good?”
“Mhm,” you whine, the pitch of your voice pathetic and needy. You watch him crush his nose into your inner thigh, nipping at your sensitive flesh, and his name leaves your mouth in a sob. 
“‘m gonna need words,” he commands, biting you again in reproach. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to make me come,” you plead, grasping his soft greying hair in your fingers. “Please.”
“You gonna call me what you wanna call me?” he prompts, smacking your thigh. “C’mon, baby, lemme hear it.”
“Daddy!” you cry out, your hand tightening in his locks. “Fuck, Daddy, please make me come.”
Joel growls, bringing your soaked panties down your legs. Your knees nearly knock together, but he’s shouldering his way between them, bringing one up onto his wide shoulder. You're spread open like this, bared plainly for your landlord to feast upon at his will. The sight of his lips parted, waiting and ready to take your pussy into his mouth, has you trembling. 
He gives a slow, experimental lick, sliding the flat of his tongue through your wet slit. You shudder, your head lolling against the wall. One teasing drag of his tongue and you’re butter, humming and whimpering for more, Daddy, please as he takes his fucking time tasting what you have to offer. 
“Goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, his blunt nails digging crescent moons into the flesh of your ass, pulling your body flush to him. “Waited so fuckin’ long for this.” You watch the fire ignite from red- to blue-hot in Joel’s eyes, his gaze shuttering as he loses himself, devoted entirely to the process of unravelling you. 
The next time he dips his tongue between your folds, he does it deliberately, calculated, as if he has already memorised your shape and now seeks to pry you open. He parts your lips to make way for his mouth, hot and soft against your clit. Softly, you cry out, watching as he presses a featherlight kiss to your pearl. You try to grind against his face, needing more, but a resounding slap to your ass stops you dead. 
“No takin’ what I don’t give,” he says. “You understand me?”
You pout, but you nod your head anyway. 
He decides it isn’t good enough and abruptly takes your clit between his teeth in a scolding bite. 
“Repeat. It.”
“I’ll only take what you give,” you tell him. “I’ll be good.”
Apparently satisfied, he hums, diving back in and finally—finally—sucks on your needy clit. “Oh!” He’s eager, sure, but he’s practised. He’s meticulous in the way he applies pressure to your clit, lapping at you greedily and pulling back to draw your pleasure into measured tidal waves. You crest only to recede from shore, and then his lips suction to you again, his hand snaking around to your front and pressing down on your lower belly. 
“Fuck!” you squeak, your stomach tightening as the dizzying pleasure overcomes you. “Joel, I’m gonna—!”
The orgasm pulls you under, drowning you with a forceful hand, your lungs sucking in mouthfuls of air. You seize, your heel digging into Joel’s muscled back, your fingers fisting his hair, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, begging to be filled. Joel keeps his mouth on you all the while, licking you through your high, and you think it’s a benevolent act until your orgasm gently fades and he continues to make out with your pussy as if it never happened.
“Ah! Joel, please—” It’s so much. Too much; your pussy contracts relentlessly at the endless attention from his tongue, happily licking your clit and relishing the faint throbbing underneath it. It’s like he’s starved. His eyes are closed, his beard glistening with your wetness, his fingers dimpling your flesh as he pulls you right along to another high. 
Two thick fingers gather up the juices you’ve leaked onto your thighs and push them back into your hole, insistent in their desire to enter. You gasp, your heart in your fucking throat: “That’s only two?”
He chuckles, but the vibration only makes you jump, letting his fingers sink inside your cunt to the knuckle. “Oh, fuck, fuck, Daddy, that feels so good, please make me come again, I need it, please—!”
Joel groans into your pussy, curling his fingers toward him so they press against a spongy spot inside you that sends your head spinning, your mind folding in on itself. All you know is the next orgasm, the best way to get him to give it to you, the fastest way to reach that indelible place once more, just once more—
Joel’s hand applies more pressure to your belly, and you scream, clawing desperately at his shoulder as you give yourself over to something much, much stronger than an orgasm. It’s foreign, the creeping sensation of an invader taking up residence in your body. You cannot see, cannot hear. It assumes control, tearing a cry from your mouth and locking all your limbs tight and splashing your wetness all over Joel’s chin, beard, shirt. 
You think he only stops because you begin to list; he catches you around the hips and presses a soft kiss to your used little clit. “Mmmmm,” is vaguely how you manage to thank him, your eyes peeling slowly open. 
“I know, baby girl,” he says, stroking your hip bone with his thumb. He litters kisses all over your thighs, coaxing you through the minute twitching of your muscles as they relax. “You did so good for me, pretty girl. So fuckin’ beautiful. My sweet girl.”
You shiver in his grasp, watching as he makes his way back up your body. He swipes his forearm across his wet beard and you moan a little at the sight. “Nobody’s ever…”
Joel crowds you, his hand cupping the back of your neck so he can guide your gaze up to him. “That's what you don't understand, sweetheart,” he says. “You can try to find another man to make you happy, but he won't be me. I’m the only one who’s gonna treat you right.”
“Joel…” Sense begins to push at the edges of your brain, but you only slump further into his touch, letting him secure your hair behind your ear. “This isn't right,” you whisper. “I pay you every month to live here. People will know. People will talk about me.”
“People have suffered worse for a hell of a lot less.” 
You have no time to decode his words because he grabs your hand and presses your palm over his chest. Beneath the shirt and the warm, tanned skin, you feel a strong, rapid heartbeat, hammering away at his ribs. He maintains eye contact, the gaze incisive, peering right into the cluster of wiring inside your head that calls his name. “You feel my heart and you tell me this ain't real. You think this ain't love? You think it's obsession? Infatuation? Think I can’t see you lookin’ at me the way you do?”
His words pin you to the ground. They’re possessive, covetous—jealous. He wants you, and he knows you want him. All these months, he’s wanted you the way you’ve craved him; all the comforts and the roses and the baked goods in lieu of payment for substantial repair jobs; the times he’s let slide some late payments because I know it’s tough sometimes, the inexplicable kindnesses in your everyday. 
Joel Miller dedicated himself to you the second you arrived to see the prospective apartment. 
“You’re mine,” he says, his thumb stroking your jaw. “And I wanna hear you say it.”
People will call you a whore. They’ll think you’re pimping yourself out for cheaper rent. They’ll send you filthy looks. But the man in front of you makes you feel wanted. Desired. You’re better than all the dates that failed. You’re better than a shitty boss who won’t give you the raise you deserve. Joel is good to you. He’s always been.
“I’m yours, Joel Miller,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now please take me to bed.”
He grins, taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. You get grabby straight away, fingering the hem of his shirt with a pleading look in your eye. You can still see the evidence of your orgasm staining the collar. “You can take it off, baby,” he says with that cocky smile, letting you lift the shirt over his head. In the sunlight, the grey in his hair shimmers, and his chest is bared to you. You lick your lips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders just to feel the way your palms contour to his dips and curves. 
You lean in and put your lips to his neck, tracing the shape of him down to the hollow of his throat, He tastes faintly of fresh air and sweat, and he smells like you. Your hands admire the warmth and strength underneath them, his body so tangible when only yesterday it was a distant dream. He lets you indulge, though his hands flex at his sides, and your fingers fumble with his belt buckle. 
“Help,” you mumble against his chest, bumping your nose into him. Joel chuckles, relieving you of your burden and shucking off his belt. It clinks along the floor somewhere nearby, and you can unbutton his jeans to bring them down, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. 
Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s thick and slightly curved, the tip leaking precum onto his belly, his balls heavy with the need to come. During those long nights after long days of work, you would imagine, for hours on end, what lingered just below his belt; the little trail of hair leading down his soft belly to your destination; the way his wide shoulders would bracket your body, shelter you from all the tough shit you could possibly suffer. You would picture all the ways you could thank him. You bite your bottom lip and ready yourself to sink to your knees, but Joel is having none of it. He attacks your mouth, kissing you deeply, his hands sliding up your back as if he's trying to count every vertebrae. He doesn't relent even when your knees hit the edge of the bed and you collapse backward onto the mattress. He only crawls over you and pins you beneath his hard body. 
“So pretty like this,” he says, lowering his head and nudging your chin upward with his nose to give himself better access to your throat. He sucks and nips at you all the way down, pausing at your heaving breasts. His fingers gently toy with one stiff nipple while his mouth occupies itself with the other, teasing it with his tongue and his teeth. You moan softly, content to watch him explore your body, squeezing your tits before he migrates downward. 
“Daddy,” you whisper, stroking his hair away from his face, your head falling back onto the pillows as his fingers part your folds once more. “Fuck, please, touch me. I need you inside me.”
Joel settles in between your open legs and takes his cock in his hand. You mewl for him, determined in the face of his big cock to fit it nicely inside you. “Mmm, you ready for me, baby girl? You need Daddy to fill you up, use you like a pretty little toy?” 
You’re nodding frantically, the words igniting you. “Please take me.”
Joel slaps the head of his cock against your clit, once, twice, watching your thighs twitch. Spreading the slick wetness from your pussy onto the tip, he finally guides himself to your hole and notches just inside. 
“Jesus,” he utters. “Jesus, you're a fuckin’ dream.”
“It’s real,” you pant, “I’m real.”
He begins to disappear inside you, wrenching you open, your poor pussy disused from going so long without decent sex. You feel the pinching pain give way to a delicious pressure in your core as he eases into you, taking it slow despite his taut jaw, his gritted teeth. Your cunt forms a tight seal around his length, your arousal lubricating his entry, and you feel lightheaded. He’s so fucking big—and he’s still going.
“Oh, my… Joel—”
“I know, baby.” He brings his thumb to your clit and helps you relax with every circular swipe. “I know what y’like.”
You keen up against him, your thighs squeezing his hips. He's only halfway inside you and it feels like being filled up to your throat, choking on the air you breathe. Your head falls back, your hands flying up to your tits and squeezing. 
“Daddy…”
One of Joel’s hands overlaps yours where it grasps your breast. “That’s my girl. You can take me. Always knew you could.” Still, he's panting with the exertion of holding back. 
“You thought about me?” you say coyly, trying to pull him deeper inside you. He obliges, if only because you're being so petulant, and his hips finally knock into yours. You release a bone-deep sigh of relief.
“All I do”—his hips thrust shallowly, baring his teeth as he paws at your thighs—“is think about you.”
You cry out at the angle, the depth he reaches, how thick and heavy he sits inside you. Your pussy sucks him in, begging for more, and Joel obliges by hooking his hand in the back of your knee and pushing your thigh toward your chest. 
Your vision whites, a ragged cry leaving your mouth. “Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes, that feels so good—”
“‘s right, baby girl. I’m the only one’s gonna fuck you this good,” Joel grits out, dragging his thick cock along your walls, spreading you open, forcing himself to fit. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust, measured in their intensity, just enough to drive you up the goddamn wall but never enough to sting. “I’m the only one you want.”
Your mouth is open and his pounding urges a steady rush of ah, ah, ahs up your throat. Joel leans over you and tilts your head back with a hand in your hair to slant his mouth over yours. He lets you pour your cries into his mouth and he swallows them down, fucking you so hard that your hips begin to ache. 
He smatters your jaw with sloppy kisses. You lift your hand to his face and trace the patches in his beard, your brows drawn together in your perpetual haze. 
“I dreamed about you,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth to make him growl against your skin. “Touched myself thinking about you.”
“I know,” he says, his hips grinding hard against yours, rubbing up against your used clit. He answers your gasp by nibbling your throat, and you keep him fixed to you with your hand at the back of his neck. His soft hair is matted with sweat and you want to bury yourself here, etch the shape of him into your stone. He's strong, capable, so present in this moment that your heart begins to throb to the beat of his. 
Joel surges upward and takes you with him, forcing you to sit on his lap. At this angle, his cock reaches deeper, somehow, your mouth falling open and your forehead dropping to his shoulder. His palm is a soothing presence on your sweaty back as he tells you things that make you flush from your chest to your ears. 
“Thought about takin’ you on the goddamn bar last night,” he grunts, guiding your ass in a rolling rhythm along his lap, his cock gliding slowly along your walls. You moan, your thighs shaking around his hips. “Thought about spreadin’ you over my desk and fuckin’ you dumb with my cock.” 
You sob into the crook of his neck, grinding down on his cock, the pressure of his navel against your clit sparking hot in your lower belly. “What else?” you ask, nipping at the strong muscle where his shoulder meets his neck. Your tits are pressed up against his chest, his warmth engulfing you, your body slowly lowering over him as he guides you the way he likes. 
His palm coasts down your spine until he finds your puckered asshole. His name is jagged and rubbed raw on your tongue. 
“Shhh, baby girl.” The pad of his finger teases your hole with just enough pressure to ooze electric ecstasy down your spine. “Feels good, doesn't it?”
Fuck, his voice is so gentle, so knowing. You curl your fingers in his hair, your nose tickled by the locks that curl over his ears. 
“Mmmhmm,” you mewl, lifting your hips as best you can despite the growing aches, telegraphing your desire to be touched by him—played with. 
“Thaaat’s it,” he coos, his nose nudging your cheek as he turns his head. His finger continues to prod your asshole while his hips buck up into you. “Openin’ up for me like a good girl. You’d let me take you wherever I want, hmm? Whenever I want?”
“Yes, Daddy, yes,” you moan, your mouth perpetually open against the skin of his neck. You can’t think. You can't breathe. You can only drink down mouthfuls of him and let your body succumb to the delicious weight of his cock inside you. “Yes, I’ll be your little slut. I’ll be whatever you want. You make me feel so good.”
He seems pleased with your babbling, grinning into your cheek as he keeps you spread wide and pounds up into you. His finger continues to tease your tight hole until he feels your body contract around him and apparently decides that he isn't quite through with you. 
“Turn around. Hands and knees.”
Who are you to refuse?
You lament the brief loss of his cock as you shift into your knees, resting your forearms on the bed and teasing him with a wiggle of your ass. Joel hums appreciatively, sidling up behind you and grinding his hard cock between your asscheeks. You jolt forward, but he catches you around the waist and warms his palm at your ribs. 
Something warm and wet lands in a glob on your asshole, and you realise he fucking spit on you. Your head spins, dizzied by your own arousal, and soon, the warm, wet head of his cock slips back inside your hole, and you relish the refuge of being taken by him all over again. 
“You wanna know what else?” He begins to fuck you hard and fast and almost angry in its intensity. His thrusts knock against your ribcage and rattle the bars, your heart floundering for a way back to the surface. “I thought about knockin’ on your door every goddamn day and putting my dick in this pretty fuckin’ pussy. Thought about your tight fuckin’ body every single time I saw you walk by and a long time after. I thought about the noises you'd make and Jesus, I was right. So goddamn sweet.”
You’re drooling onto the pillow, your eyes rolling back in your head, your fingers uselessly clasping handfuls of your white sheets. Joel is an animal, mounting you from behind and taking you hard, deep, the slick squelching noises of your coupling so crude and indecent that they burn through your ears like a lit fuse. It's wrong. You never should have kissed him. But wrong shouldn't feel like this. 
Wrong shouldn’t taste like mint and coffee, shouldn't smell like roses and sawdust. Wrong shouldn’t feel like his cock sitting snug inside your pussy, some obscene jigsaw, seeping saplike pleasure down your spine. 
This must be right. 
His hands are rapacious, one wrapping around your hair and the other guiding the bend of your back, arching you perfectly to fit him while he takes you the way he likes. “Such a tease in those pretty dresses. Such a prim and proper girl ‘til she gets the right dick. You’ll get on your knees for this dick, baby girl, won't you? You’ll beg for it like a goddamn whore.”
“I will!” you moan, your cheek pressed into the mattress. The force of his thrusts have you travelling up the bed in minuscule movements, his thighs slapping hard against yours. “Fuck, I will, Daddy! Please, Daddy, I wanna make you feel good, I’ll do anything.”
“You're doin’ such a good job already, sweet thing,” he says, using his leverage on your hair and your waist to yank you upright, his chest pressed to your back, your ass now firmly sat in his lap. You moan long and low at the new angle, your back arching and your toes curling. 
Joel groans against your jaw, his mouth travelling along the line of it in sloppy kisses that indicate he's about as close as you are. “Yeah, baby. Fuckin’ drunk on my cock. Fucked you good and dumb, hmm? Fucked you so good you can't even think.”
You can only manage a low whine, the sound of it a fleeting puff of air from your lips, the oxygen in your lungs depleting and replaced with the smell of him. You try to bounce on his dick—you really do try—but you cannot remember how to work the muscles in your thighs. You cannot remember what you had for breakfast nor the colour of the skirt you wore today. You can only vaguely understand the shape of the man behind you, the name that belongs to him, the way you curve and fit into him. You’re falling, the technicolour world outside your window fading to the sound of soft, beating wings—that may be your heart, fluttering in your ears—as you seize, yielding to the pleasure. 
You will not recall the sounds you make when you come, grasping blindly at his thighs to keep yourself from falling over, your ears ringing. You feel his moustache scratching your jaw and his cock working you through your high, slowing his thrusts to help you land softly on solid ground. You may cry out his name, and you may call him something else entirely. But it's vibrant. It's radiant as the sunlight now dipping behind the distant buildings. It tastes just as sweet as the golden hour. 
Joel does not stop fucking you when your body goes limp in his arms. No, he resumes his brutal pace, using you like a fucking toy to get himself off. You happily take it, your head lolling back against his shoulder and your eyes drooping. 
“Nnh, fuck… I’m gonna… Jesus—oh, fuck—”
His hips press flush to your ass and he nuzzles his face into your throat, depositing kisses and love bites all over your skin as he pumps shallowly into you, his hot cum filling you up and leaking generously around the seal of your cunt. You gasp, your fingers threading through his already-tousled hair, keeping him glued to you as he flexes against your body and comes hard enough to double himself over. 
He collapses on top of you, forcing you to bend at the hip, little puffs of air escaping his mouth and seeping into you. You whine, your sore hips battered and bruised, your pussy deliciously abused as you pulse continuously around his dick. “Joel, please…”
He comes slowly back into his body, his lips trailing down your spine as he lifts himself upright. “Shit. ‘m sorry, baby girl. You feel okay?”
You hum happily, letting yourself pant into the mattress. “Feels so good.”
Joel pulls out, savouring the tight drag of his cock out of your pussy, hissing through his teeth and watching his thick cum dribble slowly out of your hole. “Such a fuckin’ pretty sight. My sweet girl, all used up.”
You drop your face into your forearm and giggle. Joel smooths his hand over your lower back. “What's so funny?”
“Just…” You sound a bit hysterical as you continue to laugh. “I’m going to be late on rent this month. I put a down payment on a car.”
Joel lowers himself next to you and gently pulls you into him, his moustache tickling your cheek. “Planning on gettin’ the hell outta dodge?” he says playfully, nipping your earlobe. 
Your eyes droop and you sink into him. “Think I’ll stay here for a while.”
“I know you will, baby,” he murmurs.
“Joel?”
“Hmm.”
“Thank you for the necklace.”
~
It’s night when you next wake, and Joel is next to you. 
For someone so stern and strong, he looks utterly serene in his sleep. His lips are slightly parted, half his face pressed into the pillow, his hair curling around his ears and his arm lazily draped over you. You gently sweep a lock of hair away from his face. 
Through the dark, the red light beams, and the arm around your waist tugs you closer.
THE END.
4K notes · View notes
theostrophywife · 4 months
Text
chicken noodle soup.
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pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths
author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭
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Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays. 
Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick. 
As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.
Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.
With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found. 
At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned. 
The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life. 
Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you. 
When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely. 
“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?” 
The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?” 
Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation. 
“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.” 
“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.” 
“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”
Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.” 
After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave. 
With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.
Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.
By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course. 
The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again. 
In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem. 
Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side. 
“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?” 
The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot. 
“Nice slippers, princess.” 
You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?” 
“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”
“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?” 
Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.
“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.” 
You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.” 
“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?” 
“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy. 
The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown. 
“Are you alright?” 
“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”
He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.
"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."
You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."
"Come on, you should sit down."
"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."
Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon. 
“Here, have some of this. It should help.”
As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.
 “I can feed myself, you know.” 
“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.” 
You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.
“Chicken noodle soup?” 
As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it. 
Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.” 
You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?” 
For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.” 
You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?” 
Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.” 
You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?” 
The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.” 
After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little. 
“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.” 
“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.” 
Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.” 
“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?” 
“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” 
To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed.  It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.
“How do you know all of that?” 
“I asked.”
“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.” 
“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”
You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?” 
“You missed me.”
Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.” 
“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.” 
“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.” 
Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?” 
“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”
“Yeah, but they’re not you.” 
He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.
“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.” 
“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.” 
“That wasn’t a denial, you know.” 
He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.” 
“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?” 
“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.” 
“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.” 
The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned. 
“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”
Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?” 
“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’
Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.” 
The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh. 
Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer. 
"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"
"If you tell anyone—"
"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."
Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."
You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."
"Why's that, princess?"
"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."
"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."
"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."
He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."
The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.
“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.
You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?” 
Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.” 
You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?” 
You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.” 
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TAGLIST
@annaisabookworm @bubybubsters @criesinlies @niktwazny303 @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404
2K notes · View notes
c0llisiion · 2 months
Text
NEED TO KNOW — j.jk
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★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader
★genre: smut
★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!
★W/C: 4,395
A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆。𖦹°‧★
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“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.
Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.
You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.
He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.
Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.
Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.
Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.
The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.
Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.
All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone.  He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.
“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.”  He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you,  sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move. 
A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.
One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.
You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp.  “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away. 
A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.
All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.
It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.
He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.
He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.
He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.
“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.
You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.
Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.
This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.
“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.
He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.
His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.
Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.
You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.
A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.
“My dirty little girl."
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A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3
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talaok · 1 month
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Daddy knows best
Pairing: Step-dad!Joel Miller x Step-daughter!reader
Summary: Joel has given you homework, and although you've never watched porn, one particular thing you see does pique your interest (this is part of a series but can be read alone)
Warnings: step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence, dub-con, Perv Joel, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| fingering, squirting, anal play, one lil pussy slap, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, allusion to oral sex (m), he takes a pic, and LOADS of daddy-kink (Joel is also meaner in this one)
This is a dark fic, so please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don't like what you see.
a/n: I am a very sick individual. dont read this. honestly. just dont
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2
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"Hi daddy!" you smiled, shutting the door to your room to greet him at the entrance.
"hello sweetheart" he grinned at your excitement getting rid of his jacket and throwing it on the coat stand before his eyes traveled to you, and god was he thankful they did.
That tiny baby blue skirt he's bought you was a damn good investment, and your own touch of that little fucking white top was just as good.
There you were, on display for him, all for him... and you didn't even know.
"I like the outfit" he smirked, tilting his head to get a better look at your naked thighs, thighs he now knew from experience to be soft and just... perfect.
"thank you daddy" you giggled, smiling happily
"You know what you need to do sugar, go on" he gestured, his voice deep and almost strained at the thought of what was about to happen.
It had turned into a routine now, but his dick certainly never got used to it.
"of course" you nodded, obedient as ever, your hands going to the hem of your skirt and slowly, slowly bringing it up- up enough to show him your bare core.
Panties weren't allowed anymore.
He didn't know what it was, but there was just something about the fact that he had the power to make you do that, to make you show your whole naked pussy to him in the middle of the living room, in the way your eyes remained on him, patiently waiting for further instructions, pending from his every word, there was something about that that made him thank each existing god every single time.
He got his good look, and then with just a nod he'd made you cover yourself up again.
"good girl" he smiled, getting rid of his boots as you eagerly stalked closer to him.
"how's my favorite girl doing?" he asked, his voice sweet as he wrapped one arm around you, pushing you closer to him.
"good" you nodded "my exam went well today at school"
Your math exam, the same one he'd watched you study a whole week for, even "helping out" in his own way once or twice... a kiss down there for every right answer had become your new favorite study method.
"mhh, of course" he smirked, stroking your cheek "pretty and smart, now that's my girl"
You bit your lip at his words, that warm feeling traveling between your legs once again.
"a-and how did your day go?" you realized was your turn to ask once you got out of the trance his eyes made you spiral into every time.
"mh" he hummed, shutting his eyes for a moment as if to clear his mind of bad memories from his day "Not great sweetheart... but it would have been a hell of a lot worse if I didn't know I was getting you all to myself tonight"
Once again, heat shot to your cheeks at the flattery.
"you thought about me?"
"'f course I did" he spoke softly "couldn't stop thinkin' about all the ways I can help you out tonight"
"yeah?" your eyes widened, excitement piercing through your tone.
"oh yeah" he growled, kissing you as his hand squeezed one of your asscheeks.
You whimpered into his mouth, and he leaned away.
"did you do your homework sugar?"
"mh-mh" you nodded, "I didn't have a lot today, just English" 
A chuckle rumbled deep from his chest
He did that often, smiling and laughing at something you said, and each time, you were left confused as to why.
"not those homework, babygirl"
The sound of a choked "oh" came out of your mouth, and that smug, predatory smile he always seemed to have around you persisted on his lips.
"y-yes" you said finally "yes I-I was doing them now"
"yeah?" he grinned, his fingers on your ass trailing lower and lower... and then lower, until his digits connected with your pussy- your wet, drenched pussy.
"I can feel it" he chuckled, his fingers sliding into you for no more than a second, 
"daddy" you whimpered
"clean daddy's fingers" he shushed you, bringing the proof of your arousal to your lips, and watching you closely, as you obeyed his command.
It was salty, saltier than his come, you noticed, licking his fingers clean.
"you were in your room?" 
you nodded
"let's go then"
__ __ __
Your room was the same as always, pink everywhere, filling every inch of the space, your curtains were drawn, but some light still soaked through them, and the lamp on your bedside did the rest.
You walked before him, as he had instructed, and when you both entered, he closed the door behind you.
You were moving to the bed where you'd left your laptop, when Joel's voice stopped you.
"What's that shirt doing on the floor?"
"oh I must have left it there when I changed" you explained, crouching down to pick it up 
"not like that" He tutted "Bend down, keep your legs straight"
You frowned, but obeyed nonetheless, feeling cool air hit your core
"stay like that" 
"w-why?"
"'cause daddy's gotta take a picture," he said, pulling out his phone and doing just that, a damn good view in front of him.
"w-why are you always taking pictures?"
he rolled his eyes at your need to question him.
"cause they help me keep track of how healthy you are" he lied through his teeth, walking to you until he could place one of his hands on each of your asscheeks, stroking lazily.
"for example, right now your pussy's very healthy" he drawled, one hand leaving your ass to land a quick slap to your core.
You jolted forward, gasping at the feeling.
It stung, but it also felt kinda... good
He chuckled softly again
"got it?"
"y-yes daddy" you gulped, as he helped you get up, groaning lowly at the feeling of your ass meeting his hard cock.
he turned you around, moving some hair out of your face.
"take off your top"
You did.
"now your skirt"
Again, you did,
remaining completely naked before him.
"good girl" he breathed, his index fingers traveling from the valley of your breasts to your navel, his eyes following suit "Now show me what you found" he nodded to the computer,
He sat on the bed, back against the headboard, and then placed you onto his lap.
He smiled at what he saw on your laptop.
"I-I went to the site you told me" you breathed, your voice no more than a whisper.
"so what do you think of porn?" he smirked
"I-I" Although you were naked, it felt a thousand degrees in that room, and his hands stoking your thighs and your nipples certainly weren't helping "I like... some of it"
"Which ones?"
"the ones that don't feel f-fake" you swallowed thickly 
He just grinned
"and did you find a favorite one like I asked you?"
You bit your lip as you nodded, tapping on your computer to switch tabs
"this one"
It was an amateur one, not in hd, the camera not even straight, but the couple... you really liked them
"play it"
with a tap of your middle finger, soft moans started filling the room, as the man in the video started pleasuring the woman with his mouth, grabbing at every piece of her with his hands, as if he couldn't help it, as if he wanted to devour all of her.
You didn't even notice your hips starting to move on their own accord, trying to grind onto something- anything, as your thighs squeezed shut.
Joel chuckled behind you, his eyes not on the screen but on you.
"what do you like about it?" 
His lips met with your shoulder as his fingers pinched your nipple, and there was nothing that could have stopped the moan that escaped you from doing so.
"T-they just look so... happy" you whispered, trying not to cry because of how desperately needy you felt between your legs "so in love"
This time, Joel managed to bite down his laugh
"a-and I like-"
you stopped, too embarrassed all of a sudden
"what?"
"n-nothing"
Joel shook his head, his mouth to your ear
"You're drenching my pants, sweetheart, it ain't nothing"
You almost moaned at just the sound of how deep and hot his voice sounded
"I like that" you confessed, urging him to look at the screen
"you like that?"
he didn't even sound like himself anymore, just a wolf, a wolf holding a defenseless bunny.
"y-yes"
"you like that she's on top of him" he taunted, "that she's riding his cock" he murmured "'s that right darlin'?"
"y-yes daddy" you cried, turning your head to look at him, to beg at him "Please" you whimpered "please daddy do something"
It wasn't just heat now, it was burning flames of need pooling between your thighs.
"what about the other part of the homework?" he didn't mind your pleas
"I- I couldn't daddy" you whined, real tears now stinging your eyes "I couldn't do it, not without you daddy- please"
"aw baby" he cooed "my dumb little baby" fake concern filled his features "Show me what you were doing"
"no please daddy just- you do it"
You were going crazy, literally crazy because of how utterly desperate you were.
"stop whining and do as I say" he ordered, his voice colder "or I'm done helping you out"
As if, he laughed in his mind
You obeyed immediately.
You needed him to help you out, there was so much you still had to learn, and you couldn't possibly teach all that to yourself, you couldn't even masturbate for god's sake.
"lay on your back and show me" he said again, as he got up.
He closed your laptop and set in on the floor as you positioned yourself in front of him.
You slowly planted your feet onto the mattress, spreading your legs.
His ravenous gaze fixed on your core.
"go on"
So you did,
One of your trembling fingers traveled to your core, and slowly- oh so slowly- you pushed it inside of you, whimpering lightly.
He didn't say anything, and so you started moving it, trying to mimic what you've seen him so countless times now... and failing miserably.
"I-I can't" an unsatisfied whine fled your mouth
"'f course you can't, not like that" Joel smirked devilishly "Put another finger in"
"b-but"
"just do it"
You tried, you really tried... but you were so scared, it just felt like too much, like you couldn't handle all that
"I-It doesn't fit- it's too much" you cried "Please daddy help me- please please please"
God, but did you ever stop whining?
And so partially because he wanted you to stop, and partially because he just wanted to, he grabbed your waist, pulling you to the edge of the bed, and dropped to his knees.
"It doesn't fit?" he mocked, your fingers pulling out of you just in time for him to plunge two of his own in.
You gasped and moaned and cried all at once.
"Then how come this little pussy can take my whole cock?" he didn't even wait for you to adjust, to stop squirming, before his index finger thrust inside you "How come I can fit three of my fingers in here?"
Real tears fell from your eyes as you moaned and arched your back like a cat.
You tried shutting your legs, but he spread them apart mercilessly, gripping your thighs as his fingers thrust in and out of you at a scathing pace
He'd never been like this, so fast, so mean
You didn't know if you were breathing, you didn't know if you were alive, if you had fainted, you didn't know anything besides how good you were feeling, how much pleasure he was giving you after you'd been starved so long for it.
"is it too much now?" he mocked, watching you fall apart in front of him "because it looks like it ain't" he growled "it looks like i could fit all my fingers in here and it still wouldn't be enough"
You moaned, you moaned so loud your throat hurt.
"'s that what you want, you want to be completely filled like a little slut?"
slut
he'd never called you that- why did he call you that? Why did it make you clench around him? why why why-
"no please daddy" you moaned "'s too much"
"three fingers is enough for this little pussy?" he teased 
"yes daddy yes- I-"
It was like making a deal with the devil, if you weren't specific enough...
"what about this other pretty hole?" he smirked, his fingers slowing as two of his fingers from his left hand reached between your asscheeks, grazing your other hole 
"d-daddy" you just stuttered
"I think we need to start stretching this one darlin'"
You gasped, as he used your moisture to wet his middle finger and trailed downwards
"I- b-but daddy"
"daddy's gonna fuck it one of these days" he interrupted "and we don't want it to hurt do we?"
You tried to calm your breathing as you answered
"y-you mean you want t-to-"
He chuckled, his fingers pushing into your g-spot making your mind just a big dumb mess.
"I mean I'm gonna fuck your ass babygirl" he explained, his finger pushing more and more at the entrance "it's another lesson, you see" he murmured "but I need to prepare you for it- I need to stretch you out real good for my cock"
His cock. Inside there. How on Earth was that gonna happen?
"That's why you're gonna be good and let me put this finger in here" he emphasized his words by pushing slightly "aren't you sweetheart?"
"I-is it gonna hurt?"
"not if you relax" he cocked a brow "are you gonna relax for me?"
"y-yes" you surrendered "yes daddy"
And that was that.
He pushed his finger into you, slowly, even though there was nothing he would have liked more to just thrust it, and hear your shocked cry.
But the moan you let out- oh the moan you let out was worth every moment of his painful self control.
It wasn't particularly pleasant at first, but then... then it was like fire spread through you, and when the fingers in your pussy started moving faster it was like gasoline dunked onto the flames.
it didn't just feel good, it felt... new.
It felt like heaven and hell altogether, and then it felt like... it felt like you needed to pee.
"d-daddy!" you gasped, your hips grinding shamelessly onto him "daddy's not right- I-I"
tears rolled down your temples, and your belly twisted into knots as your walls tightened and tightened around him.
"Shhh" he shushed you "let go" he said, "let go darlin'"
And so you did.
A rainstorm of pleasure putting out all the fire inside you. Pure, divine bliss took over you as you looked at him, crying out and squirming uncontrollably, until it was all over... until you realized what had just happened.
Whatever that was
"o-oh my god" your eyes widened, taking in his drenched shirt, his wet mouth and chin which you didn't even notice he'd put on you as you soaked him to get a taste "I-I'm so sorry daddy- I- I don't know what-"
He was on you before you could blink.
"sorry?" he laughed "what are you sorry about?"
"I-I-"
"you squirted" he grinned "ain't there nothin' wrong with that... the opposite actually"
"S-squirted?"
"that's right"
"and you're not mad?"
"why would I be mad?" he asked, amusement and thrill glossing his eyes "It's just like when daddy comes all over your face babygirl" he explained "You like that, don't you?"
"mh-mh" you nodded
his cock twitched at that
"And I like when you come all over mine baby"
"oh"
"yeah" he chuckled, kissing you deeply "I'm gonna make you squirt every fucking day from now on sweetheart"
You could only smile before he kissed you again
"now how 'bout we do that thing you saw?" he asked, "you wanna ride my cock sweetheart?"
"yes" you nodded eagerly
"then let's get to it, shall we?"
He gave you one last kiss, before he leaned back, undressing completely.
He chuckled as he caught you eating him up with your eyes, but said nothing as he laid on his back.
"c'mere" was all he said, grabbing your waist as you sat on top of him, your core inches away from his cock.
your hands raked his chest, stroking and admiring him, before you looked at his hungry gaze, and asked:
"what do I do?"
His eyes fell to where his cock sat on his belly
"take my dick in your hand"
You did as instructed, mesmerized by how big and beautiful it looked.
"now raise your hips a little, and slide me into you"
You did what he said, but just as he started entering you, you froze, the feeling foreign and not... good.
The woman in the video seemed to enjoy it so much, why can't I?
"you gotta relax" Joel explained, his right hand going to your clit "Let me in" he murmured, drawing circles on your bud "it'll feel good babygirl, just let daddy in"
And so, slowly, slowly you started sinking onto his manhood, whimpers and moans fleeing your throat with every inch added.
Util finally, you had done it.
"o-oh my god" you choked at the feeling.
He was deeper than he'd ever been, that you ever thought possible.
"good girl" he smirked
You didn't even have time to think about what you were doing that your hips were already moving, grinding onto him, bringing heaven to your core.
"O-Oh m-my"
"bounce on it darlin'"
Your hands sat on his chest as you obeyed, feeling his grip on your waist tighten as you raised and lowered onto his cock, moaning as you threw your head back.
now you understood that woman, It felt amazing
And so you started doing it again and again and again, clawing at his chest as groans rumbled from it.
"good god" he grunted "f-fuck"
"it feels so good daddy" you breathed, your lungs burning for oxygen
"yeah? You like riding me, baby?"
"yes" you cried "I like it so much daddy" 
"like having my cock so deep inside ya?"
"god yes" you whimpered 
"yeah?" he mocked, raising his hips to meet yours and forcing a roar out of you
"daddy! I-"
"you're coming already?"
"y-yes daddy I-"
He cocked a brow as he watched you
"think you deserve to?" he asked, "after acting like that before?"
"please" you begged, your voice nothing but a thread "please daddy let me come"
he remained stoic, and you were so close...
"please daddy, I'm sorry I'll be better, I'll be good- I promise"
He smirked now
"you promise?"
A nod, that was all you could offer
"No more questioning me when I'm trying to help?"
"n-no" you shook your head "I'll do whatever you tell me, whatever you want"
That's all he needed
"come on my cock sugar" he ordered "come like the good little girl you are"
You swore you blacked out after that, the pleasure was so deep and so strong it knocked you out.
The next thing you knew, you were laying beside him, your head on his chest, his come leaking out of you.
he'd already told you you needed to tell mom you wanted to take the pill
The words were out of you before you could stop them.
"Y-you were a little... mean before-" you swallowed "when you were using your- fingers"
He groaned internally
"I know babygirl" he cooed, caressing your arms soothingly "but you were acting like a little brat, and I just- I ran out of patience"
"o-oh" 
"I'm here to help you, so it's hard for me when you act like that, understand?"
God how stupid you had been.
He was doing you a favor, and you were acting like a child.
"I-I'm sorry daddy" You pouted, leaning up to kiss him "I'm really sorry I won't do it again"
"thank you sweetheart" he smiled "but I think there's a better way to use that pretty mouth of yours to apologize"
You gulped, as you followed his gaze to his cock
"I'm kind of tired daddy" you murmured
"I know you are" he cooed "but daddy knows best, baby"
"You made me really mad sugar" he explained "And if you want to apologize real good... you're gonna need to suck daddy's cock"
And just like that, you were ascending down his body.
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strvngeweather · 2 months
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How to Get Rid of Your Virginity; a one shot.
💘PAIRING: badboy!jungkook x theaternerd!reader 💘GENERE: College AU, smut, a little fluff 💘WORD COUNT: 4.6K 💘WARNINGS: Smut, smut, and more smut. 💘SUMMARY: You've always been the good girl who followed the rules but you're ready to shed that image and lose your virginity to the college's resident bad boy: Jungkook. 💘AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apparently, I really got into my feelings with this fic. A bit of sweetness at the end but mostly smut. I hope you enjoy!
Opposites attract – at least, that’s what your best friend, Elena, had told you. She had provided you with solid proof too.
“Just take a look around,” she had said, a cup full of vodka and cherry-flavored juice in her hand, motioning toward the various partygoers. She pointed out an art student cuddled up with a girl who looked like she belonged on the arm of a footballer. “That’s Taehyung. His girlfriend is the ‘All-American Girl’ type and he’s a huge nerd. But they’re in love.”
You nodded. “Okay, they’re the exception.”
She shook her head, taking a long sip, wincing at the burn of the alcohol. “Okay, what about them?” She pointed at Jimin. Jimin was your textbook Type-A worker bee. He was known to avoid large social gatherings like this but here he was, leaning against a wall, his girlfriend in his arms. He kissed her lightly on the neck before grabbing a hearty handful of her ass. “That is our resident party girl cuddled up with our best scholar.”
“He’s a fine scholar,” You admitted, and Elena agreed. “Okay, so what’s your point?”
“My point,” Elena began, taking another long sip. “Are that people from different sides of the track get together all the time. Cheerleader and nerd, party girl, and punctual pupil. Nerdy theater geek and super delicious bad boy.”
You were the nerdy theater geek she had been referencing and the delicious bad boy? That title belonged to Jungkook.
You glanced over at him. He was standing between Taehyung and Jimin, effortlessly chatting the night away. Jungkook had been on your radar ever since you started attending this university two years ago. He was an upperclassman, so you didn’t run into him often but when you did, you savored every second you got to gaze upon him. The man was beautiful. But make no mistake, this was not a crush. You thought he was sexy as hell, but you weren’t into him. You were a future Broadway star and Jungkook? Well, you don’t know what his future entailed but it was starkly different from yours. You were sure of it. There was no way you two would work out romantically.
You wanted him for different reasons. More carnal reasons. You wanted him to take your virginity.
But, while you wanted him, you weren’t sure if he wanted you. You didn’t look like his type – you assumed. But Elena was attempting to convince you otherwise.
“I just don’t think he’d be down for it,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, he’s not into girls like me.”
“He’s a man!” Elena said, her voice raised. You knew that was a sign that the liquor was kicking in for her. “He’s into any girl who wants to bone him! Go over there!”
Elena pushed you toward him, but you stopped, glaring at her. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, Jungkook, wanna fuck?’”
Elena nodded and gave you a blank stare. “That sounded perfect. What’s stopping you?”
You groaned. Of course, Elena would think that’s an acceptable way to approach a man but before you could protest, she was signaling Jungkook to come over. Your eyes widened, a mortifying feeling washing over you.
I could kill her, you thought, I could kill her and bury the body beneath the school’s theater.
Jungkook looked at Elena, a confused look etched across his handsome features. Then, he did the unthinkable. He began to walk over.
He stopped just short of the both of you, the wallflowers for the night, and smiled. “Good evening, ladies, how can I help you?”
Elena nudged you and you opened your mouth to speak but found only your pride, self-respect, and the last shred of confidence falling out of your mouth and onto the floor to be stomped on by a slew of drunken college students. Elena, noticing your mouth open and a dazed look on your face, rolled her eyes and blurted out, “She wants to fuck you.”
This is it, you thought, this is how I die.
But it wasn’t.
Because Jungkook’s eyes raked over you, a hint of lust clouding behind them, and smiled. “Oh, really?”
You nodded, fear and excitement striking into your heart.
Elena continued, “She’s been waiting to make a move all night, but she’s been too afraid to.”
Jungkook looked at you. “Consent is sexy, so I have to hear it from your mouth.”
You swallowed thickly, slowly nodding. “She’s not, I mean, I’m not –” You stopped, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Coitus is something I’d like to experience with you – I mean, if you’re up for it.”
He held out his hand. “Well, let’s go experience it.”
“Right now?”
“Why not?”
You looked between him and Elena searching for a reason as to why now wasn’t a good time to get your back blown out, but you couldn’t find one. Not a good one, anyway. So, you put on a brave face, took his hand, and let him lead you upstairs and into the nearest empty bedroom.
You didn't know who this bedroom belonged to as it had no signs of life. A basic dark wood dresser hugged the right wall, a few sports posters lined the walls and a simple full-sized bed with white and blue bedding sat in the middle of the floor. Jungkook took a seat on the bed, and you sat next to him, unable to meet his eye.
“Come here,” he said, cupping your face and drawing you forward.
He wanted a kiss, so you followed his lead, but your nose bumped into his. “I’m so sorry!” You said in a panicked voice. “I – I didn’t mean for –”
“It’s okay,” he said through a small laugh. Another attempt at a kiss was made but instead of bumping noses, you bumped foreheads. He rubbed his forehead, scrunching up his face. “Maybe we skip kissing,” he said, standing up. “How about this instead?” He began to climb on top of you. You readjusted yourself, hoping to make things flow more smoothly but you ended up kneeing him in the stomach.
“Fuck, I am so sorry!” You said as you watched him grit his teeth.
“It’s okay,” he said once again and rounded the other side of the bed. He took a seat and laid back. “Why don’t you come lay beside me?”
You nodded. You got up and laid down next to him.
“Why don’t you lead?” Jungkook suggested and you silently agreed that that might be for the best.
You began to get up but found your elbow stabbing him in the chest.
This was going horribly.
“Are you sure you want to have sex?” Jungkook asked.
“I do,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I’m just really nervous.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you nervous?”
You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. How do you tell one of the hottest guys on campus that you’re a virgin? A lonely loser virgin?
“If it’s me, then there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Jungkook said. “I’m not as experienced as everyone says I am. I mean, I have had sex with quite a few people – all safe and consensual of course – but I’m nothing like the lothario people say I am. I mean, I’m just –”
You cut him off. “I’m nervous because I’m a virgin.”
The room went quiet. Too quiet. Embarrassingly quiet. If there was a God, he would have taken mercy on you and allowed the world to swallow you at this exact moment. But no, mercy did not shine a light on you this day.
“And you wanted me to take your virginity?”
He seemed more surprised that you had chosen him as your virginity taker than the fact that you were still a virgin. Regardless, you nodded. “Yeah, I figured if I was going to lose it, I might as well lose it to someone hot.”
His cheeks flashed a crimson color. “Don’t you want your first time to be special?”
You scoffed. “First off, virginity is just a construct and secondly, it would have been special no matter what because it’s my first time and I was in control. Besides, I’ve got a bucket list to finish this year.”
Jungkook looked at you. “Oh yeah? What else is on your list?”
“Smoking weed. I’ve never been high before.”
And just like that, Jungkook produced a blunt out of his back pocket. “You’re in luck. Listen, I don’t think the sex thing is going to happen tonight, but I can smoke you out.”
You felt relief wash over you. There was still hope. He said it wouldn’t happen tonight not that it wouldn’t happen ever – hey, it may have been delulu but you were going to take it and ride off with it into the sun. You watched closely as Jungkook lit the blunt, taking a few deep inhales, holding it in, and then exhaling, coughing along the way. Your first few attempts at smoking the joint were failures but after the third try, you got the hang of it. You also coughed a lung out but the serene feeling that flowed through you a few moments later was worth it.
The blunt had been reduced to a roach and you and Jungkook were lying on the bed, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. You learned he was a film major and planned on moving to Los Angeles after graduation to pursue a career out there. When you told him you wanted to be the next Audra McDonald, he didn’t laugh or tease you like so many others had before. He thought your love of theater was cool and asked you a million questions about it. He found it impressive that you could hold such high notes while doing intricate choreography. Finally, a silence settled over the two of you as the green forced you both into an extreme high.
“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook’s voice was like molasses, thick and slow. Or maybe you were just so damn high that’s how you heard it.
“Mhm,” you hummed.
“What’s the farthest you’ve gone?”
“Like traveling?”
He shook his head. “No, I mean … with sex.”
“Oh,” you replied. “Um, I’ve jerked a guy off before.”
“Have you …” he began but trailed off. He turned his head to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. “Ever received oral?”
You shook your head. “Nah.”
“You want to?”
You froze, and a sobering feeling hit you like a pillow full of soap. The idea of getting your coochie licked sounded damn good right now, especially with the weed in your system. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I’d like to try it one day.”
“How about today?”
You could still feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. Well, shit. You had already crossed one item off your bucket list. Might as well cross another. So, you said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Within seconds, Jungkook was between your legs, lifting your pleated skirt to your hips and sliding your baby pink panties down. Your body froze as you felt a finger slide in between your slits. “A virgin who shaves,” you heard him muse, mostly to himself. A thumb began rubbing your clit and a gasp escaped your throat. Before you could say something else, his tongue was on your lips. Your … other lips. It darted out, parting your lips and flicking against your clit in a feverish way.
Your back arched in response and you felt as if all the air in your lungs had left your body. You found your hands gripping the white sheets as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue sliding in and out of your hole before traveling up and down your slit and finally focusing back on your clit. The sensation became a little too much and you squirmed away, hoping to ease some of the intensity but that only made things worse. Jungkook wrapped his hands around your thick thighs, pulling you closer, spread your legs apart further, and kept his hands gripped on your thighs, ensuring you wouldn’t be going too far. “Don’t run from it,” you heard him whisper.
You’re not sure how long he was at it but by the time your world turned white, you were making noises only a dog could hear.
. . . . .
It wasn’t in your nature to willingly be a third wheel, but the town’s annual spring fair was here and there was no way you were going to miss it. Even if Elena insisted on bringing her boyfriend, Felix. The night wasn’t all bad though. You had spotted Jungkook hanging with a few of his friends and the two of you waved at each other. It had been three weeks since the party and the two of you had kept in contact, texting each other funny memes here and there, sometimes talking on the phone late into the night but nothing more, nothing less.
As the three of you waited in line for the Ferris wheel, you noticed that the ride only allowed pairs. That took care of Elena and Felix but what about you?
“Can you believe that? Since when has the Ferris wheel been limited to two people at a time?” You turned around to face your best friend, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy using her tongue to excavate Felix’s mouth. You groaned. “Of course, you two would choose now to suck face.”
The line moved forward, and it was your turn to get on. The ride operator gave you a pitiful look. “You got a partner?” He asked but he knew the answer to that. Just as you were about to step out of line to die of embarrassment in a dark and quiet place, your knight in shining armor appeared.
“I’m her partner.”
Jungkook. Sweet, sweet, Jungkook. Sweet, delicious, Jungkook who smelled like heaven and was wearing a red button-up shirt that showed off all his muscles. What? Sue you for noticing!
Jungkook held out his hand and you took it, the two of you loading on the ride and strapping in. Elena smirked at you as the ride began. The ride slowly lifted you and Jungkook up a few feet and then paused, allowing Elena and Felix to board.
“Thanks for saving the day,” you said with a smile. “The Ferris wheel is my favorite ride.”
“No shit, mine too,” Jungkook replied.
Your eyes brightened. “Really? You don’t seem like the type.”
“What type do I seem like?”
“A coaster man.”
“I like coasters too,” he admitted. “But something about the Ferris wheel just calms me, you know?”
“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”
“So, how’s your bucket list going? Cross off anything else?” Jungkook asked as the Ferris wheel began moving again and then paused, allowing another couple on.
“I have,” you told him excitedly. “Elena and I went skinny dipping two days ago.”
“Damn, I’m sad I missed that one,” Jungkook said with a cheeky smile. “Still a virgin?”
“Still a virgin.”
Jungkook looked at you, his eyes falling to your exposed legs. You were wearing a plaid overall dress and a long-sleeved white shirt underneath. You wondered for a moment if he was judging your fashion choices until he licked his lips and you saw the lust clouding his eyes. “Ever been fingered?”
You shrugged; a sheepish smile found its way to your face. “Only when you ate me out that one time.”
“But never in public?”
“Of course not.”
He looked at you, his eyes begging for permission and as the Ferris wheel began moving again, forcing you and Jungkook to the top, his hands found their way between your thighs. He rubbed your core through your panties. You felt him lean over, his lips brushing against your neck before peppering kisses across your chin. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pushed your panties to the side, and you felt two fingers slide up and down your already-wet slit.
You felt your heart beating faster in his chest when he slid a finger inside and used his thumb to rub circles on your clit. The sensation was quickly becoming too much for you. Especially in public of all places. But as the Ferris wheel worked its way down, you were as well. Your orgasm slowly washed away as the ride finally came to a stop, allowing you and Jungkook to get off.
“Thanks for the ride,” you told him and in response, he kissed your cheek and made his way back to his friends.
It was official: You and Jungkook were friends. Like actual friends. You talked to him just as much as you talked to Elena, if not more. You had met his friends and his friend’s girlfriends. You spent time at his apartment. He smoked you out at least once a week and the last time the two of you decided to go on an impromptu diner trip, the waitress mistook you for a couple.
That’s why it wasn’t a surprise when he accompanied you to the library today. You both had papers due and decided to study together. However, you found that the two of you didn’t get much studying done and instead spent most of your time together making jokes and trying to steer clear of the librarian’s wrath.
In an attempt to get some serious studying done, Jungkook suggested getting a table at the back of the library. As you followed him to the back of the library, you noticed a couple, deep within the library aisles, where students rarely went, getting it on. You stopped Jungkook, tugging on his sleeve. “Look!” You whispered. “Oh my god, isn’t that Jimin?”
An approving smile pulled at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Yeah. Ever since he met his girlfriend, he’s become such a horn dog.”
You couldn’t take your eyes off the couple. Jimin had his girlfriend leaning on a bookshelf for support, her pants pulled down to her knees and his face buried between her ass cheeks. You hated to say it but it kind of turned you on. Jungkook took your hand and pulled you along.  
“He’s not afraid of getting caught?” You asked.
Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t think so. They fuck in the library all the time. That’s actually how they became a couple. He was her tutor.”
You felt a pool of heat settling in your core, forcing a weather change down under. “God, that’s hot.”
Jungkook stopped walking and looked at you. “You want to try?”
“You mean, fucking in the library?” The idea excited you, but you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to get fully plowed in public yet. “I don’t know about penetration but … maybe some head would be cool.”
Jungkook licked his lips. “I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting to taste you again.”
You shook your head as he led you further into the book aisles. “No, I mean I want to give you head.”
He stopped. “You sure?”
“Yeah, teach me how to suck dick,” you said and then cringed once you heard the words. “That didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped it would have.
He smiled, licking his lips. “Say less,” he pulled you into a corner and unzipped his pants. He pulled his jeans and boxers down but only slightly and produced his semi-hard dick.
“You’re already excited?” You asked and then realized this was your first time seeing his dick. No wonder he was known as the lover, you thought, grabbing it and feeling the weight of it in your hand. “Well, shit.”
“You ready?” He asked and you nodded, slowly dropping to your knees.  He guided you lovingly on how to properly give head but also explained that everyone was different so the way he liked it wouldn’t necessarily be the way another guy liked it. But the way he liked it was known as the ‘vacuum suck.’ He wasn’t into the bells and whistles of sloppy head but preferred something nice and clean and something that felt like his soul was being sucked out of him.
And that, you did. Or at least you gave it the old college try.
You stroked his large dick, your hand running up and down his thick shaft as your tongue flicked over his head. Precum painted your lips as you attempted to slide his entire member into your mouth. It wouldn't fit and Jungkook didn't force it. Above you, he squirmed in delight, his hands threading through your dark locks, gripping ever so slightly.
“Touch my balls, baby girl,” Jungkook said through a low grunt. Your pussy does backflips at the sound of being called ‘baby girl’ but you can’t linger on that too long. Jungkook has your head in his hands and he’s slowly but surely fucking your face. “Agh … I’m going to cum …” He began to pull his dick out, but you didn't let him, instead you did something that you’ve seen countless times on Twitter memes. You suck harder and you kept sucking well after he came. You’d never heard a man squeal before but you’re sure that’s what Jungkook did before you finally popped his dick out of your mouth.
Summer was steadily approaching, the weather going from tolerable to the heat of the devil’s ass crack. It’s why Jungkook had suggested that the two of you head to the coast for the weekend. “It would be way cooler out there,” he had said, and you couldn’t argue. So, on a Friday evening, you climbed on the back of his motorcycle and the two of you headed off to the beach for the weekend.
As two broke college students, you didn’t have enough money to afford a fancy hotel, so you settled for a run-down motel room, but it was clean, and the bed was comfortable enough. Jungkook had purchased every snack in the vending machine that night and the two of you shared stories over eight-dollar bottles of wine, BBQ chips, and sour gummies. After finishing off your second bottle of wine, Jungkook lit up a blunt and the two of you shared it, laying back on the motel room bed with the shabby television playing a novella in the background.
“Y/N, I think you may be my best friend.”
“I think you may be right,” you agreed, laughing.
“I can’t believe school will be ending soon,” Jungkook said.
“I know. What am I going to do without you?” you said, a genuine sadness reaching your voice.
“We’re going to stay friends. You’ll come visit me in Los Angeles and I’ll come visit you in New York. You’ll be there when I receive my first Oscar and I’ll be there when you get your first Tony,” Jungkook said with a smile. And you could hear the sincerity in his voice. Even if none of that happened, in this moment right here and right now, Jungkook believed it did and that’s what you loved most about him.
You always thought love was like an arrow. Shooting you in the heart, causing you to instantaneously know that you had fallen but looking at Jungkook in the darkness of this shabby motel room, you realized love wasn’t like that at all. Love was slow and easy. It was sweet. It was kind. It was a soft spring day. It was impromptu trips to your favorite diners. It was sharing secrets in your most special places. It was laughing to your belly ached in the back of a car. It was trips to eat your weight in sushi and then getting ice cream even though you swore you couldn’t eat another bite. It was wiping your tears away at four in the morning because you didn’t get the role in the school play. It was sitting up all night with each other watching the sun rise because he was too anxious to sleep. It was the perfect and it was the imperfect. It was nothing and it was everything. It was you and it was Jungkook.
And right here, right now, you realized that you were in love with Jungkook.
“Jungkook,” you said, looking at him and he turned his head, smiling that beautiful smile. “I love you.”
He stared at you for a moment, studying your features. A hand reached out and cupped your cheek. “I love you too, Y/N.”
You scooted closer to Jungkook and kissed him. It was a soft and sound kiss. Slow and sensual. And he kissed you back with just as much patience. Your arms and legs tangled together, and soon you found your clothes melting away. You felt his lips wrapped around your nipples, his tongue going across your stomach. His hands stroking your pussy with an excruciating softness. You felt his muscles flexing beneath your fingertips, the weight of his manhood in your hands and then in your mouth.
His body reacted with such pleasure as you gave him head. You sucked slowly, making sure every inch of his manhood was wet with your spit. Jungkook stopped you early, citing how much he still wanted to taste you so you laid you on your back and spread your legs, exposing your most sensitive parts but Jungkook shook his head. He guided you on top of him, and you lowered your precious gem to his face. He licked hungrily. Savoring every drop of you. His hands found their way to your round ass and groped the fleshy curves as his tongue dug deeper into you. An electric wave of pleasure washed over you, your body writhing in sweet agony.
As you lay down beside him, he got on top of you. “Are you sure?” He asked. “If you don’t want to go this far, we can stop right now.”
But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted this. You wanted him. You silently nodded for him to continue and Jungkook rolled a condom onto his hardened dick. He positioned himself at your entrance and quietly said, “Here we go.”
He started slowly. You felt an indescribable pressure in your lower abdomen as he continued to slide in but it wasn’t bad. It was just different. He used his right hand to play with your breasts.
His pace quickened. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as the pressure waned, and in came pleasure. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders. This new angle forced a new sensation to bubble within you. It felt amazing but there was a heaviness to it that you couldn’t quite describe. His hand found your clit, rubbing circles on it as he began to fuck you faster. You didn’t think you could cum twice in one night, but Jungkook proved you wrong. A few short moments later, Jungkook’s face tightened, and he let out a deep grunt before falling on top of you. After a moment, he rolled off.
“So how was it experiencing coitus with me?” Jungkook asked, breathing heavily.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “It was amazing.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t beat my ass this time.”
You cringed, thinking of the night the two of you met. You rolled to your side, putting your arm around him and your head on his chest. In response, he put his arms around you as well, pulling you close.
“What does this mean for us?” you asked.
“It means that I hope you accept when I ask you out on a date,” he said, kissing the top of your head.
“I’ll have to think about it,” you said. “I’ve got one more thing to cross off my bucket list.”
“What’s that?”
You motioned toward the window in the room, outside of it, the beach. “Sex on the beach times two. I want to drink the drink while doing the act.”
With a smile, Jungkook got up and put on his pants. He looked at you, “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go have sex on the beach while we drink sex on the beach.”
2K notes · View notes
goldsainz · 7 months
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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — one shot.
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pairing: charles leclerc x reader
MASTERLIST.
taglist: @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis @leoramage @ellswilliams @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @woweewoowa @forza55
summary: you’ve slowly consumed charles’s thoughts, and he doesn’t mind it.
request: “can i request ✒️ ❛ you’re my family too. ❜ + charles ?? thx in advanced hehe <3” by @ssainzz
warnings: pure fluff
NOTE: i was listening to margaret by lana while writing this and i just though it was so perfect for this fic. trying to get back into writing after a pretty uninspiring (and quite rough) few weeks. hope you enjoy bc i sure enjoyed writing this!
[ word count: 748 ]
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Charles adores his job. He loves the sound of the engine, standing on the podium, seeing all the excitement the fans have to give and he adores travelling the world. He would never complain about the amazing things he is doing, but if there is one thing he has learned to cherish even more than all of that, it is you.
You’ve become an integral part of his days. Whether it’s waking up next to you or calling you to check in, he knows you’ve become home to him. When people ask him how his family is doing, he never fails to mention how you are doing.
He can’t help but admire you every time you walk by him, you’re a ray of sunshine in his life; at least that’s what everyone tells him. He hasn’t heard the end of it since he revealed you were his girlfriend, from his teammate to the fans, they can all see how much you’ve brightened his soul.
“Charles?” You softly say, snapping him out of the daydream he was in.
He glances up at you, watching as you move around the room. You’re packing your suitcase, clothes thrown around the room, you’ve most certainly overpacked for the race weekend. But Charles won’t tell you. He’s tried before and it’s a lost cause.
“Hm?”
“Do you think I should take the maroon or vermillion?” You muse, grabbing two different types of dresses and placing them against each other.
Charles furrows his brows, he glances between the dresses and tries to make a decision. But if he’s honest, he doesn’t know what the difference really is. The cuts of the dress are practically identical, and the length is the same in his eyes.
“The maroon?” He says doubtfully. You screw up your nose at his decision, apparently not being what you wanted to hear.
You look at the dress Charles picked once more, and with a shrug you throw it onto the ever-growing pile of clothes in your suitcase.
“I was thinking that for your family dinner we should bring something, right?” You ask him, organising some of the mess you’ve made.
“Our family dinner,” He tells you, a soft smile resting on his lips.
“Huh?” You manage to say, dropping the clothes you were folding onto the bed he’s resting on.
“You said that it was my family dinner, but it’s ours.”
“Oh,” You exhale, taking notice of the deep sentiment behind his words.
It takes you slightly by surprise, it’s not unlike Charles to be sweet, to reassure you with words when things get hard. But this time it is almost out of nowhere. You didn’t really mean anything by your words, yet it seems they touched him in a way you’re not even sure how to describe. The one thing you do know though, is that at the end of the day, he comes home to you. Because home is wherever you are, and that is bigger than anything else.
“You’re family to me, chérie.” He says after the smallest beat of silence.
“You’re my family too.” He doesn’t waste a second in getting up from the bed and kisses you grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you into the kiss like he won’t ever get to do so again.
There is a pause in time. While his lips are on yours, it seems like everything just stops. Leaving you to breathe in the moment, cherish the feeling.
When you pull away from the kiss, the crinkles in Charles’s eyes from the soft smile he gives you melts all your insides. You’d be a fool not to give him the same sentiment back, and so you do.
“You’ve got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.” He whispers, his hand caressing the side of your face.
“And you’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” You say back, admiring the depth of the green in them.
Though neither of you say it, too lost in the moment, it is evident that the love between you is sparkling. And you know, you just know, that Charles is the one for you; just like he knows you were made for him.
If there’s anything you know, it is that he is your family. That he is the one you love. The one you’d come home to every day and never be bored of it. Because monotony with Charles is impossible, and if there ever is, you’d still want it.
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satorusugurugurl · 5 days
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My Wedding Date is an Escort!
Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.
Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader
Word Count: 3,682
Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language
A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!
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Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.
And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.
Life fucking hated you.
Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.
The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!
Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.
Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.
Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.
You could not show up to the wedding alone.
Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?
You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?
Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.
“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.
“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.
Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.
Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.
“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.
Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!
“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.
“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.
You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!
“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.
You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.
“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”
“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”
“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”
“Yes.”
Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.
”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”
”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“
For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.
”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”
“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.
He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?
”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down
”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”
”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”
You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.
”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”
“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”
Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.
”Great, lucky me.”
Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”
“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”
“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”
You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.
”Well shit, that’s a first!”
”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”
”Nope.”
You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.
”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”
With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”
”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”
In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.
It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.
It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.
“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.
“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”
Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.
“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”
“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”
“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”
“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”
You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”
“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”
The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.
You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.
You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.
“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”
“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”
“Why did he break up with you?”
“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”
You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.
You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.
Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.
”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.
“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”
”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”
”Eh!?”
Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.
The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.
You owed Haibara big time for this.
After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.
“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”
You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.
”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”
“Awesome, thanks a lot.”
As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.
”You seriously think I believe that?”
Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.
“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”
Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.
”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.
”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”
The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.
It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.
“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.
”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.
Oh, he was fucked.
(TBC)
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magnoliavasconcelos · 2 months
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"He's just a baby"
Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader
Word count: 382
Warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes
Content: fluff, established relationship, one shot
Situation: your food is too good, Bam is too clingy and Jungkook wouldn't swap his little family for anything.
"What the fuck is this?"
The first words came from a tired Jungkook, dressed in baggy black clothes, hands on his waist and a smile growing on his face.
"What?"
"Have you seen yourself?"
He said, pointing at Bam and me, lying on the sofa with a blanket, Bam's head on my chest as I pet him.
"He deserves pampering, look at his face." Jungkook laughs in disbelief. "Have you seen his size?"
"I think someone's jealous, but who am I to talk, I would be too if a beautiful woman like me wasn't paying me any attention." I say with a small smile looking at Bam once again.
"Of course I am, I know my rights." He says, as he leans in to kiss me. "I made us food." I say, pointing to the kitchen worktop. I see his doe eyes growing as he looks at the food I've prepared. His favourite ramen, with green onions, soft boiled eggs and sesame seeds.
Smelling a sweet scent through his button nose, he looked over and there were small freshly made chocolat cookies with hearts on top.
"You did all this?" He asked me, his eyes wide. "Yes, I went to buy the flour at the shop of that older couple we met."
Ahhh, that day. He thought. A week ago, when we had gone to walk Bam, we found a precious shop, run by an elderly couple, where everything seemed to be in perfect condition. But nothing was more perfect than his girl in a yellow sundress and his dog always on guard around her.
"I love you." Jungkook says as he looks at me with such affection that I feel like I'm going to explode. "I love you too..." I say and then he interrupts me. "No, I love you. In an inexplicable way, in a way that makes me want to enjoy every moment with you. In bad times and in good times, when we laugh like fools, when you get upset about someone at work and I start planning to kill them, when I miss a step in a routine and you cheer me up, when I complain that Bam steals you away from me but I love that he loves you like a mother, the fact that I came home to delicious food you made. I'm just madly in love with our home life."
"Stop it..." I say and feel my cheeks heat up. Jungkook walks up to me with a mischievous smile. "I won't stop, pretty thing." He starts kissing me all over my face, while Bam starts snuggling closer to me, pushing Jungkook further away. "Bam stop stealing my girl, you've had her all day, now it's my turn."
"Don't talk to him like that, he's just a baby." I look at the Doberman. "Who's Mummy's cutest baby?" I ask in a baby voice, causing Bam to climb on top of me and lick my face.
"Give me some attention, I thought I was your baby too." The singer, with tattoos and piercings adorning his smooth skin and bulging muscles, looks at me with an irresistible pout, making me grab his face and kiss him. "You'll always be my baby, my sweet boy, my golden boy, my Kookie..."
He takes me round the waist and kisses me like a hungry man. "I'd really like to eat you right now, but I think we'd better eat the food you've prepared and deal with it later." Jeon tells me without a hint of shame, leaving me all soft. I just nod and we head for the dining table, sit on his lap and enjoy our meal before moving on to the next one.
This is my first fic, hope I can get better.
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cryptidghostgirl · 30 days
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Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.
Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.
Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.
If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).
That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.
As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.
Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.
Enjoy!
A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!
The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.
Word Count: 1,752
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There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.
Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.
Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.
Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.
The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.
Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.
It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.
The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.
"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"
It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.
"I am everything."
They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.
"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"
The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.
"It is the truth."
A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.
"Yeah, alright."
"Who are you?"
"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"
The demon shrugged.
"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."
"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."
Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.
He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.
"I told you."
"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"
The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.
"So, you let me catch you."
"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."
"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."
The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.
"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.
Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.
"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."
He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.
They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.
"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."
"And you are?"
"No."
"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.
"Far from it. I don't like being seen."
"But you're letting me see you."
"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."
Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.
"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."
"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."
Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.
"I have power enough."
"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"
"Are you suggesting a deal?"
The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.
"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."
"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.
"Not on purpose but I supose so."
The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.
"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."
"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."
A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.
"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."
Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.
"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."
"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."
"Are you trying to intimidate me?"
"Not at all."
The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.
"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."
"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.
He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.
"We all take what we are given."
"I suppose."
Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.
"If you will be the face, I will be the force."
"No soul binding."
"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."
Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.
"Not an overlord yet."
----
tags:
@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0
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roosterforme · 3 months
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Khaki, White and Blue | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: Three different uniforms on him. Three different rides for you. But there's just one man who can get you off with his words, his actions and a well placed thigh.
Warnings: Swears, fluff, smutty thigh riding, 18+
Length: 3200 words
Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)
Happy birthday to @thedroneranger!
This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist
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Bradley bit his knuckle as he watched you come strolling down the vacant sidewalk toward him in the idling Bronco. He grunted softly as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, never missing a step in your high heels and snug tweed skirt. You were illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlights, and even though it was Friday, your late night teaching advanced calculus, you looked as perfectly put together as you had this morning. 
"Fuck," he moaned when you opened the door and climbed in next to him, your skirt sliding up your thigh as you started to lean closer to give him a kiss.
"What?" you asked, pausing to examine his expression before dropping your gaze down to the insignia pins on his khaki uniform shirt. 
Bradley shook his head, voice raspy as he said, "Don't act like you don't know that you look fine as hell, Sugar. You feel like taking a walk to the library? Maybe check out one of the study rooms?"
He leaned in as your pouty lips formed a perfect smirk, but you just nipped at his mustache, pulling away and teasing him every time he tried to deepen the kiss. You laughed softly as he chased your lips when you asked, "What's wrong with right here?"
Bradley froze except for his big hand that he slowly wrapped around the back of your neck. "Here? Parked on campus?"
You just nodded in response as he subtly adjusted himself in his pants, his body responding favorably to his wife as usual. Then you finally kissed him with parted lips, letting him taste your tongue, and you whined when he reached for you, pulling you gently until you crawled across the seat. 
"You look good in your khakis with all your pins, Beer Boy," you whispered as you eased yourself down to straddle his right thigh. The interior of the Bronco was mostly dark as you reached for his rough hands and set them softly on the hem of your tweed skirt.
"You're such a fucking tag chaser," he said, trying to hide his grin as you tipped your head back and laughed. You both knew that couldn't be further from the truth, he just loved to hear your laughter. But that melodic sound was replaced with a whine as he pushed your skirt up inch by inch, bunching the tweed fabric until his hands were on your bare skin.
As he drew little circles along your thighs, he let his hands drift back until he was cupping your ass. You were already grabbing at his shoulders as you rolled your hips forward, and Bradley had to run his index finger down nearly to your pussy to even confirm you were wearing one of your tiniest thongs.
"I guess I am," you whispered, rubbing yourself against his thigh. "It's making me hot that you're getting a new pin tomorrow, Lieutenant Commander."
"Fuck," he gasped as your knee nudged his hard cock. He glanced around a little frantically, trying to make sure nobody was walking down this quiet side street. "You know, one of your students or coworkers could see this."
"Mmm," you moaned, grinding yourself down on his thigh until you gasped. "See what? Nothing's going on in here."
Bradley palmed your ass before giving you a little smack and tucking his long index finger inside your thong. He guided you forward on his thigh, keeping a foot of space between your upper body and his. 
"That's right, Sugar," he whispered as you rubbed your pussy up and down his khaki pants. "We're just talking here."
You nodded as you bit your lip. "Just talking." When your head tipped back again, showing off your beautiful neck and making your tits strain against your blouse, Bradley had to fight to keep his lips off you. 
"You're putting on a show for me, Baby. Feel good?"
Your hips stuttered a bit as you rode his thigh, and he guided you along with his hands on your delicious hips. "Bradley," you whined. "I... oh... oh!"
"Full sentences. Tell me what you need," he said with a smirk as you tipped your head forward to look at him and scooted up in desperation until your pussy met his gold belt buckle. 
"Need this... oh!"
Bradley thrust his hips to meet you as he growled, "You sound so fucking dumb right now. I thought you had your PhD."
"Fuck!" You reached for his biceps, holding on to him as your lips parted. You were panting as you shook, grinding against the metal buckle, making soft little gasping noises as your eyes drifted closed. Bradley squeezed your hips tight as you came on the front of his khakis, moaning his name as the roll of your hips started to slow. 
He reached for your left hand, running his thumb along your diamond ring as he guided your fingers to his cock where it rested hard and huge against his thigh. "You feel what you do to me?" he grunted. "You feel how much I love you?"
You nodded your head, still coming down from your own orgasm as you squeezed him gently. "I do. I feel it."
Bradley thrust up into your hand as he swallowed hard. "Get buckled in, Sugar," he commanded, and you went scrambling back across the seat, treating him to the sight of your bare ass as you went. Even in the dim light, he could see the slick, wet marks you left all over his pants, and he groaned. "I'll take you home and let you feel it until you're screaming."
-------------------------
You'd never been to a promotion banquet before, but you were thoroughly enjoying every moment of this. Your husband was sitting with his arm around you in his dress whites with his new pin on his uniform while sipping a beer, and he looked gorgeous. He was all crooked grin, crooked white hat, and flushed, pink cheeks, and you knew he would give you anything you wanted tonight. 
"I still can't believe you wore that," he muttered, pressing his lips and mustache to your ear. "You just tell me when you want to go home, and I'll take care of the rest."
You moaned softly at the banquet table, basking in his attention when his beer bottle met your tattoos. You were wearing the black dress from your college reunion, the one you had on last summer when the two of you had reunited after ten years, and there were cutouts on the sides. Bradley's hands had been all over you that night, and they were all over you again now.
"Beer Boy," you warned as condensation dripped down your skin, but he didn't care. His deep, rumbling laughter alerted you to that fact. 
"You've been teasing me all night. You think I don't owe you a little something?"
"What did you have in mind, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"
Bradley looked around the table, nodding to the other officers he knew as he set his beer down and squeezed your shoulder. He hooked his fingers under your chin and kissed you sweetly before saying, "Alright, tag chaser. Let's go for a walk."
Laughter bubbled out of you as Bradley helped you to your feet, lacing his fingers with yours and leading you unhurriedly out of the main ballroom and down a quiet hallway. "Where are we going?" you finally asked when he led you through a propped door next to the kitchens. There were some waiters and bartenders outside smoking, and Bradley pulled you right past them and around to the back of the building. 
"Somewhere you can admire my new rank in private, Sugar."
"Oh," you gasped when he pushed you carefully up against the building, caging you in with his body. He took your left hand and kissed your palm and fingertips before pressing them to his new pin. 
"And somewhere I can admire you," he added in the softest whisper. "I haven't seen you in this dress since our reunion. It's my favorite thing on you besides my Grateful Dead shirt."
His kisses were so soft, but you clenched around nothing as he spread your legs with his knee and pressed his thigh against you. "It's for special occasions," you whispered as your lips skimmed his. You could hear the conversation and smell the faint cigarette smoke, reminding you that you weren't alone. But that just made it even better when he started to hike up your dress, letting you feel the cool, night air on your bare skin.
"Oh god," you moaned into his mouth between sweet kisses when you felt the scratch of his white pants against your clit. "Beer Boy." 
"Hmm," he hummed against your mouth as he gently palmed your bare butt with one big hand, planting his other hand next to your head on the building. He guided you up his thigh, and the pressure against your clit left you gasping. Your hands went to the back of his neck, and he held eye contact with you as you started to rock. "You're gorgeous."
"Bradley."
"And smart. Always so far out of my league," he added, and you clenched again as he kissed your cheek. He was so solid and warm, and your brain was in a fog as he said, "I want you to do it."
"Do what?" you whined, hips rocking against his thigh at the tempo he set with his big hand. 
He squeezed you, digging his fingers into the round of your rear end as he told you, "I want you to mess up my pants, Sugar." He cupped your chin. "Mark me up. Get me all wet. Like you own me."
When your head tipped back, you gasped. You nudged his length as you rolled your hips, but Bradley just said, "Keep going. Keep going." You were practically dangling from his neck as you held onto him and wiggled against him, grinding and humping until you were almost there. "That's it," he encouraged, reading it on your face. "Good girl."
That's all it took as your walls fluttered. "Bradley!" you whined, and his lips found yours as you came, feeling yourself gush just like he wanted. "Oh my god." He kissed you harder before you could get too loud, and your pussy was soaking wet as he guided his knee away from your body as you chased him until your front was pressed completely to his. 
Your dress fell back into place, and he wrapped his hands around your waist as his crooked grin returned. He was fully erect, hard in his white pants, and you were about to offer to take care of it for him when he said, "Let's get back inside and have dessert while I show off my pants, and then I'll take you home and let you suck my cock."
Still whimpering, he paraded you back inside with his pant leg wet at the exact same height as your pussy. 
-------------------------------
Bradley slept like a log after you sucked him off so long and so well, he even dreamed about you showing off your pretty mouth full of his cum before you swallowed. You'd whispered, "I love you, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," to him so many times as he dozed off, of course he was startled when he woke up alone. He grunted your name, hand roaming around your side of the bed before he heard the shower running.
He reached down to stroke his cock with a smile, the thought of your body warm and wet with water cascading down back had him a little hard already. The sweet scent of your body wash filled the air, sending Bradley's legs swinging over the edge of the bed to get to you. But then he froze when he saw his white uniform pants on the floor from last night, and his mind drifted. Friday night, you had his khakis in the Bronco, and Saturday you had his dress whites while he got promoted. You deserved everything this weekend, so he turned toward the closet to dig out his third uniform for your grinding pleasure. 
He was grinning as he buttoned up his jacket, affixing his new pin to the front before tossing his blue hat on his head as he heard you call out from the bathroom. "Oh, good, you're up. I had this fun thought that maybe you could-"
You froze in the doorway, completely naked with a pair of clean underwear in your hand, and you bit your lip as you took in his appearance. Bradley watched as you pressed your thighs together, but he knew you'd be spreading them for him soon.
"Maybe I could what?" he asked, voice deep and raspy as you took a few steps closer, closing the distance to him.
You looked up at him, tapping his new pin with your index finger as he stood tall for you. "You read my mind. I was going to say maybe you could change into your dress blues for me," you whispered. "Let me have all three this weekend."
Bradley groaned as you pushed him back toward the edge of the bed where he sat down hard. When you came to stand between his splayed legs, he reached out to wrap his hands around your thighs as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. Your skin was warm, and when he slid his hands up, he traced your ass with his thumbs, loving how you'd filled out since college. 
"It's all yours, Sugar," he said, kissing along your tits and tasting your skin before you turned your back to him. "Oh, hell," he moaned as you planted your palms on his thighs and bent a little bit before slowly wiggling your ass from side to side against the front of his pants. "What are you doing, Baby?" he rasped, heart thudding as he brought his hands up to your hips while you essentially gave him a lap dance. If you wanted to turn the bedroom into his own private champagne room, he was not about to complain.
"Warming up my seat," you whispered, bumping back on his cock. When you turned to look at him over your shoulder, Bradley leaned forward to kiss your shoulder, and you arched your back for him before you straddled his left thigh. "This okay?" you asked as your back rested against his chest. When you glanced at him again, your lips were so close, he had to kiss them.
"Baby, you do whatever you want to me," he crooned, letting his hands drift to the front of your body. He circled your clit with his middle finger and smiled as his mouth found your neck. Your pussy was nice and wet, just the way he wanted it on his pants, and your ass bumped his cock every time you moved. 
Bradley took his time, moving his finger at the pace he knew you liked as he sucked gently on your neck and shoulder. "You smell good," he whispered before nipping you and licking you over and over again. With every roll of your hips, he thought about bending you over and fucking the absolute shit out of you, but he'd let you have your fun first. 
"A little harder, Beer Boy," you whined, looking back at him as he pressed his finger into your clit until you gasped. Your eyes were half lidded as you planted both of your hands on his leg just above his left knee. "That's so good."
He had only ever been truly good for you. He only ever planned on being good and sweet and everything you needed. When your back arched in pleasure again, you started to rock and grind, treating him to the sight of your perfect ass rubbing his cock. His pants felt snug, and then he thought about how tight your pussy was and he yanked you back against him, making you squeal in delight as he nibbled your ear. 
"You got me really wound up," he growled. Every movement had you rubbing up on him while he swiped his finger up and down your slick clit as you babbled. The faster he moved his finger, the closer you got. And the harder you rocked against his cock. "Jesus, Sugar."
"Can't help it," you gasped, reaching for his hand and pulling it from your clit up to your mouth. "I'm so close." And then you licked his fingers before taking them between your lips, rocking back as you humped his leg. 
You were his wife, always treating him to the finest things in bed and out, but you were feral right now, whining and moaning his name. He explored the front of your body with his other hand, pinching your nipples and squeezing. You got louder, bumping his cock in a delicious rhythm as you sucked away on his fingers. 
He wanted your pussy and your mouth and your tits, every part of your body wrapped around his cock. He wanted it sloppy, just how he knew you could get as your tongue swirled around his fingers. He wanted you every single fucking way. 
"Baby," he groaned, your saliva running down to his palm as your back arched again. "Oh, shit."
His hand settled around the front of your neck as your voice rose, a pretty crescendo of a needy whine as you jerked your hips and came on him. "Bradley!" You were loud now, grabbing at both of his thighs to keep yourself seated as you rode out your orgasm, but it was too late for him as your right hand slid back to grab his cock.
Two loud grunts in your ear, and he came, too. Right in his dress blues. 
He was still thrusting against your hand when you groaned, "I got your pants soaking wet," as your hips slowed down. When you looked back at him one more time, you whispered, "I love you. Tell me how you want me to get you off."
Bradley could feel the stinging heat rising in his cheeks as you gently nibbled his lips and then stood on shaky legs in front of him. You kissed him and knocked his hat off before you reached for the fly of his blue pants. He had to take your hands in his to still them. "You already got me off," he muttered. 
You looked puzzled before you ran your hand lower to his softening cock, and then he saw the realization of what just happened dawning on your perfect face. Your lips parted on a moan that had him reaching to pull your body against him. "That's so hot," you whispered, your voice sounding desperate again. "That's so fucking hot, Beer Boy."
In one swift motion, you pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist, leaning down so your bare breasts rubbed his pins. "You're so fucking hot," he promised as you licked the side of his neck and whimpered, letting your pussy rest on his uniform jacket now.
"How fast can you get hard again?" you asked, taking his wrists in your hands and pinning them above his head before your lips returned to his neck. 
Bradley grinned and closed his eyes, enjoying your little whimpers next to his ear. "With you on top of me, Sugar? I'd say pretty damn fast."
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I love these two, and I think Sugar deserved a nice weekend. Congratulations to Beer Boy! And happy birthday, Jay! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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irisintheafterglow · 5 months
Text
blood moonlit, must be counterfeit
summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes. (pro!bakugo x you)
wc: 1.68k
cw/tags: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol
note: NEW HALLOWEEN HEADER BABY also this idea had me by the throat so i needed to write it down before it consumed my entire psyche. i'm back to writing for bakugo again because iykyk and halloween fics are giving me a lot of motivation right now. hope you enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
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“I have to admit–your costume is pretty damn good.”
“Yeah? Just ‘pretty good?’”
“Mhmm. Almost looks like the real thing,” you remark, taking another sip of the dangerously sweet jungle juice in your cup. It's an unreadable mix of bad ideas and bold flirtation, perfect for a Halloween party of barely 21 adults. The blonde guy beside you on the worn leather couch tilts his head slightly like he's re-affirming what you just said in his mind. “I think the real Dynamight would be impressed.”
“Would he, now,” he huffs under his breath, mouth curling into an unreadable smirk. He exhales a quick breath of what you think is amusement through his nose, eyes flicking over your body for the umpteenth time since he sat down with you. It makes your face heat up and you casually avert your gaze downward, catching more details of his costume that you didn’t notice before. 
The gauntlets were obviously the star of the arrangement, covered in numerous scratches, burns, and dents that attested to their “battle” usage. The boots were impressive, too, and you wondered how long it took to place every individual orange eyelet over the front of each calf. The cinder block rectangles sitting on his broad shoulders truly looked like real stone, solid like the toned muscle holding them up. It was the domino mask that threw you off the most, though. The guy must have been wearing bright red contacts, or something, because to look so similar to the actual Pro should have been considered a crime. 
“Who’d you come to the party with?”
“Just some friends,” he replies, shrugging an infuriatingly sexy shoulder. His entire look was putting the real Dynamight to shame, in your opinion. He nods upward in the direction of a guy in an equally accurate Deku costume standing with a very convincing Shoto lookalike. “They dared me to wear this and I lost the bet.”
“Must have been some bet, if you’re moping over here like a toddler.” The shrewdness of your words escapes you until they’re already past your lips; thankfully, he just smirks again and leans his head back, resting an arm on the back of the sofa.
“I’ll ignore that you said that, 'cause you're clearly intoxicated” he mutters, shooting you a brutal side-eye. Thanks to the alcohol, though, you’re far from deterred. 
“How gracious,” you chuckle and his smirk gets a little more arrogant. “What was the bet?”
“Some dumb drinking contest. That asswipe in the green can put down more shots than he looks.” He scowls and you fight down the urge to giggle at his bitter expression. He was the only guy you’ve ever seen that could make a grumpy face look hot. The only guy besides Bakugo himself, of course. “I wouldn’t have worn this shit to a party to save my life.”
“What, Dynamight isn’t your favorite Pro?”
“I’m more of an All Might guy,” he replies nonchalantly. He appreciates the classic heroes. Good sign. “If I had to choose a different one, I’d probably say Jeanist.”
“Jeanist is pretty cool. My best friend had a cardboard cutout of Eraserhead in her closet growing up.” He barks out a laugh and it startles you, but a mysterious feeling in your stomach wants to make him do it again. “What do you think of the current gen of heroes?” He hums thoughtfully, running his tongue over his top lip and you swallow back your drool.
“Red Riot’s a good guy. Deku pisses me the fuck off, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Same thing with Pinky and that Half-and-Half asshat. Chargebolt…” His expression turns into a frown so deep you’re worried that Chargebolt killed his family or something heinous like that. 
“What about him?”
“He’s just dumb. If given the choice between his life and a grain of sand, I’d take the sand,” he deadpans and you choke unexpectedly, wincing as your drink travels up the wrong tube and into your nose. His eyes widened in concern, reaching out to pat your back but deciding against it at the last moment. His glove-covered hands hover around you like you’re radioactive matter, carefully watching as you regain your composure. “You good, nerd?” Uses the same vocabulary as the real guy, too. Kind of weird, but I guess we all have our idols. 
“Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t expect you to badmouth him like you two were friends from high school or something,” you joke lightheartedly and the guy blinks at you twice before computing what you said. 
“It’s whatever. They’re super fuckin’ easy to read, in any case,” he states with an air of finality and you down the rest of your drink, the dim lighting starting to blur everything around you into a single greenish-orange blob. “What about you? What are your thoughts on the new gen?”
“I can’t make such bold judgments as you, but I do think Dynamight is pretty cool,” you admit, suddenly feeling a little bashful when having the same question turned on you. The truth was, you followed the lives of the heroes a bit too closely than the average person should. It fascinated you so much that you were majoring in Quirk-specific journalism, studying the social and economic consequences of being a Pro. “I think his public persona is an interesting case when compared to other heroes.”
“How so?”
“Well, I’d like to imagine that he’s not always the loud, arrogant, obnoxious piece of shit that the press shows,” you start and narrow your eyes in confusion when he flinches at your description. You continue anyway but choose your words a little more carefully. Probably isn’t good to upset the guy who might have fashioned functioning gauntlets, if the costume truly is accurate. “There’s a side to him that I think the public doesn’t know about and doesn’t care to know about, since it’s easier to understand him as a loudmouth with no sense of manners. I just wonder who that guy is under all the yelling and testosterone.” His silence is deafening and you worry that you somehow offended him, but his tone is so gentle that your assumption becomes an impossibility.
“Seems like you’ve given this guy a great deal of thought,” he says lowly, voice barely audible over the sound of the blaring house music. 
“Well, he is my favorite,” you add quietly, not expecting him to catch what you said. He does, though, and that mischievous smirk returns to his face. Somehow, you two had inched closer together over the course of your conversation, and you were now close enough to smell his cologne. It was something deep and smoky, with a surprise note of sweetness, like caramel. “I’ve been following his hero career since I was in high school.”
“I didn’t take you for a superfan, but I do appreciate your support,” he chuckles and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You seriously haven’t figured it out?”
“Figured what out?”
“That I’m Dynamight, stupid. This is my actual costume and those are my actual friends. Hell, I'm paying for this whole shitty party,” he says incredulously, genuinely shocked that you didn’t come to that conclusion already. Your skepticism, however, rears its head and you burst out into rude laughter. 
Dynamight? Yeah, right. More like Dyna-maybe. 
“Excuse me?” He stares at you like you’d grown three heads and your heart drops into your stomach. You must have said your thoughts out loud. Fuck! “You’ve got some nerve, testing the patience of a Pro.” His words, under any other circumstances, would have cut down your pride like a knife. However, his eyes were conveying a different story, one of lust and want and holyshityouwantedhim. “Got anything to say, sweetheart? Or are you gonna just keep gaping like a fuckin’ goldfish?” You abruptly snap your jaw back into place, leaning your head into your hand and smiling in triumph when his gaze again uncontrollably rakes over your body.  
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“See what, gorgeous?”
“That a Pro kisses better than a normal person,” you murmur and his pupils blow to the size of pool balls. He wastes no time, gently but firmly grabbing your chin with two fingers and pulling your mouth onto his. His lips are ridiculously soft and you muster up the courage to bite him softly, heartbeat racing when he groans into your mouth. One arm drapes itself over the back of the couch, the other pulling you as close to him as humanly possible without practically sitting on him. Your hand combs through his hair and the other keeps him on you by the back of his neck.
Right when you run out of breath, he pulls away and swears colorfully at the phone buzzing in his pocket, answering it with one hand while his forearm is still pressed against your lower back. You absentmindedly trace his jawline with a finger while he curses out the person on the other line, eventually chucking the device over his shoulder like it was the last thing he was thinking about. “You need to go somewhere, sweetheart?” He lightly pinches your side at your mockery and you jump, flicking his forehead in defiance. 
“Nah, that was a job for Dynamight. Right now, I guess I’m still fuckin' Dyna-maybe,” he rasps and leans back in to kiss you again but you push his face away, giving him as sober of a look as possible. “What?”
“If you need to go kick ass, then go kick ass. I’m just some random makeout at a party,” you remind him, painfully aware of the sting if he was to leave you alone. His expression contorts into indignancy again but you still try to convince him to alleviate whatever situation he was called in for. “Your job is more important than a hookup.”
“I don’t do hookups, dumbass. I’m interested in you,” he states plainly and your face is set on fire. The Pro, who you just insulted to his face, was interested in you? “So, let’s get out of here, yeah? I can make you dinner that isn’t shitty pizza.” His mouth breaks into a devilish grin and you’re already grabbing onto his hand like your life depended on it. 
“If someone messes with us?”
“It’s a good thing I’m already in costume.” 
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if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
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groguspicklejar · 3 months
Note
u put in the work for the fwb soap fics phew 😮‍💨
part 8 of fwb!soap
and i'm putting in a little more work for the finishing touch😘
this is the final one, guys. might make a one shot to follow-up this story at some point but for now i'll just focus on my other works. it's been a blast writing for fwb!soap💋
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this time, he invited you to his place. it's not the first time you've been there but this time felt... different.
maybe it was the drive back, seeing all the Christmas decorations on the houses and all the families laughing and playing outside in the snow. maybe it was the weather itself.
he capitalised on the fact that your heater broke down and people were either unavailable or out of town to come fix it.
Johnny could fix it. you know he can, but he insisted that you stay at his place in the meantime because he was too lazy to do it. after all, he'd recently come back from deployment and he wanted some rest before doing anything.
so you said sure. staying at his place for the holidays shouldn't be too bad.
what you didn't expect when you stepped on his front yard, was to find yourself staring down Christmas lights on the porch and a half made snowman next to his car.
upon stepping into the warmth of his house, you discovered that he had set up a Christmas tree but hadn't gotten around to decorating it.
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"you didn't have to..."
you looked at the box he held out to you in wonder. chaotic wrapping with a neat little boy on the top. wrapped in a haste, probably. or he was nervous. either way, it's very thoughtful.
but even while he's pink-cheeked, he's grinning. eyes shining with hope and slight fear that you'll like what's inside.
"aye, but i did." he says, watching you inspect the box. "thought ye might like it."
you hadn't even thought to bring a gift because you thought it was just going to be just another normal day. you didn't expect to be ambushed with a small Christmas celebration and you feel bad now.
he reassures you that it's okay. that he wanted to do this.
"look up, bonnie." he quietly says as he holds you close, grinning widely.
your brows furrow before your gaze follows his. then you see it. red and green. the mistletoe hanging over you, taunting you almost.
you laugh into his chest. "you just want an excuse to kiss me."
"aye." he gently lifts your chin up to peck your lips. "i'll take every chance i get."
"why?" you ask through another chaste kiss, smiling against his mouth.
"why wouldn't i?" he kisses you again. when you don't answer, he pulls away. "ye really don't know?"
you shake your head. though you have some idea. he's always been a little obsessed with you. always pawing at you and cackling when he gets his way like the gremlin that he is.
but the expression in his eyes tells you there's something else you don't know. or do know. something you've always suspected.
something you've hoped for.
"well..." he breathes out a shaky breath and it makes you nervous. "i'll tell you a little secret."
he leans in and you stay perfectly still, waiting. heart leaping into you your throat when you hear the little words, the quiet confession nestling deep in your chest. blood roaring in your ears as you listen, as you feel the warmth in his chest, the tremble in his hands.
your eyes are wide when he pulls away, catching the worry in his gaze. it suddenly dawns on you that he was never truly kidding all those months ago when you told him off.
you have me.
you're not my boyfriend.
oh, but i could be.
he could be. he wants to be. he wants to be.
he's always wanted it. always pawing at you, kissing you when he got the chance, whispering his dreams of how you'd be the perfect wife, how he'll never let you go while he was making a mess of you. he's never lied about it either and he's gone past the boundaries of whatever this relationship is to prove it. to prove that he's... that he's...
"you're..." you blinked. "you're in love with me?"
you can see the effort he puts in trying not to falter, to flinch when you repeat the words back to him. the hairline cracks in his glee, splintering, giving way for something hiding underneath.
he tries to keep smiling, to keep pretending like what he just told you is nothing. "thought it was obvious by now, bonnie."
it... was obvious. painfully so.
you just didn't want to believe it in case you were wrong.
why can't ye understand?
jus' happy to see my favourite woman in the world.
missed ya so much, bonnie.
but he's been blatantly telling you this very truth since the beginning. never shying away from showing you how he felt, even at the risk of losing you. his honestly has never waned or wavered in the face of your indifference.
he balks when you don't immediately respond, as you're still in shock, processing. "if ye don't feel the same, tha's fine—"
"no, no! that's not—" you break into a giggle, hands digging into his arms to pull him back. "that's not what i was thinking."
"oh?" his expression relaxes into something akin to relief. "so..."
"so..." you mirror him, your smile stretching even more. "why don't you kiss the woman you love?"
he looks at you for a moment, leaning closer until your noses touch. "only if she tells me tha' she won't run away from me."
"why would she when she loves you back?" you counter, half jokingly.
"oh, bonnie..." he presses his mouth against yours once again and you melt against him.
nothing was ever the same since then. there was not a barrier keeping you from giving your heart to him and vice versa.
he was happy to finally see the necklace he gave you glinting under the light as it rests against your skin. his initials and yours engraved into it, forever sealing your hearts together.
Johnny was such a fool to fall for you but it's fine.
you can both be fools in love as long as you're together.
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it's finally complete😭🙌 i needed an excuse to end this series and your challenge was the perfect one @glitterypirateduck
Happy Holidays, my loves💋 thanks for sticking around for this series!!! it was such a blast to write for fwb!soap✨
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fwb!soap masterlist
offer a coin to the picklejar
tagging: @brujademente @sofasoap @gogh-with-the-flow @alwaysshallow @ethereal-night-fairy @ghosts-cyphera @obiwankenobis-lap @tiredmetalenthusiast @devcica @roosterr @theghostqueensfics @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen in case y'all wanted to finally see the ending😭
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Note
can you please make a fic of ethan with a squirting gf please 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Hi! I'm sorry it's taken me a while to get to this. I hope you like it!💕
Blackout - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
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This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: Trying to help a stressed out Ethan unwind leads to you doing something you'd never done before.
Contains: Per the obvious in the ask box, squirting lmao. Oral - m and f receiving.
A/N: this isn't super long. The one I post later will be for all of you that prefer those haha.
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Ethan had some pent-up aggression from school, and you knew the perfect way to help him let it out. When he got home from the library, you could tell that he was stressed when he flopped down on the couch.
“You okay, baby?” you said, walking up behind him. You leaned over, your hands going to his chest as he relaxed into the couch at the simple touches. Your head nuzzled into his neck, his curls tickling your face.
“I just think I’m in over my head right now. I’m tutoring someone that doesn’t seem to care if he passes or fails. Like why the fuck am I wasting my time helping him when he doesn’t even care?” he sighed, “I have so much homework to worry about, and I’ve barely seen you for almost two weeks.”
“I’m sorry you’re so stressed, baby,” you said, your hands moving to his shoulders to massage them. “I’m here now, though.”
“I know, but I have three assignments due Sunday that I haven’t even started, so I still don’t really get to spend time with you like I want to,” he let out a light groan when your hands started to work on his neck. “Your hands are like magic.”
You smiled at his words as your hands kept moving. You loved to do whatever you could to help him relax, so you started to get an idea.
You pulled your hands away and walked around to the front of the couch. His eyes were barely opened as he looked at you.
“I think I know the perfect way to help you,” your tone was sweet, but your actions contradicted that when you sat beside him and started to unbutton his jeans. His eyes shot open as they connected with yours. “Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?” He nodded, his anticipation building as you slid his zipper down.
He was already half hard when you pulled it out of his boxers, your mouth salivating at the sight. His eyes shut again when you started to stroke him, his cock getting harder by the second.
You leaned down to lick the precum that started to drip out, humming “Mmm” as you tasted it. You started to lick him from base to tip, his breath hitching in his throat as your skilled tongue moved against him. When you took him in your mouth, his hands went to your hair.
“Fuck,” he groaned, as you took your time, working him inch by inch past your lips.
When you started to gag a little, the grip he had on your hair tightened. As you bobbed your head up and down, your spit was dripping down the rest of him that wouldn’t fit in your mouth. He knew you were able to take all of it though, like you had many times before. His hips started to thrust, the gagging making your throat tighten around him.
“Shit, just like that, baby,” he said, looking down to watch you. “You always do such a good job.”
You were already wet, but his praise made you crave attention to your clit. You tried to push past your own needs, just wanting to make him feel good.
“You gonna swallow all my cum?” he asked, making you whimper with him in your mouth. “You better let me eat your pussy after you’re done.”
You moaned, the vibrations coming from your throat making him groan.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, thrusting into your mouth a little faster. Within seconds, he started to release it. He stopped thrusting and let you continue to milk every last drop from him. “I don’t know what I like more…your mouth or your hands.”
You pulled him out of your mouth and started to laugh a little at his words, taking the blissed out expression on his face.
“Thank you, baby. I needed that,” he said, pulling you close to his chest as his breathing started to return to normal. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t get over the throbbing feeling coming from your touch-starved pussy, squirming a little to get some friction. “Don’t think I forgot about you, baby,” he said, noticing your actions, “Let’s go to my room.”
You both quickly got up, him hot on your heels as you made it to his room. He pulled his shirt over his head before taking his pants off, as you started to strip, too. You didn’t want to waste time, knowing he had other things to worry about.
His focus was only on you, though, taking in your naked body as you stood in front of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, nudging you back onto the bed.
You sat up on your elbows in anticipation for what his first move was going to be. He started to crawl on top of you and push you back the rest of the way before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. He started to suck on it, the pressure making you whimper. He moved to the other side, doing the same as your hand went to his hair.
He began to place open mouth kisses as he kissed down your body, his tongue swirling against your flesh as he got closer to where you needed him. When he settled in between your legs, his eyes connected to yours. He smirked at you before leaning his head down and placing gentle licks to your clit.
You were whimpering at how perfectly his tongue moved against your bundle of nerves, finally feeling a little relief. When he slid a finger in, and soon added another, the whimpers turned to moans. He angled them just right, rubbing against that spongey spot inside of you. He started to suck on your clit, a low moan slipping past your lips at the feeling.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” you mewled, your breathing getting faster as you started to feel your orgasm building.
He moved his fingers a little harder, as you started to make new sounds he’d never heard before, but he was determined to get you to keep making them. Your hips started to involuntarily move against him, your body desperate for your own release. When your whines got to a higher pitch, he started to slow his fingers, thinking he might’ve been hurting you.
“Are you o-“ he got out before you cut him off.
“No don’t fucking stop!” you yelled, “Ohhh fuuuck.”
Your vision was getting spotty as you felt your orgasm start to hit, your legs tingling at the intensity of it. He started to notice how wet you were, but it was way more that normal as you started to drip out around his fingers. When he slid his fingers out, you started to gush before he could put them back in.
“Holy fuck,” he said, taking in the wetness on your thighs, his hand, and the spot on his bed.
You couldn’t process your thoughts, your brain feeling like mush as you kept letting out shaky whimpers. Ethan watched you in awe as he waited for your breathing to return to normal. One you fully came back down, he started to run his hand along your bare thigh.
“Have you ever done that before?” he questioned, as you looked at him, confused.
“You mean, cum that hard? No,” you laughed, as he shook his head.
“No, baby, have you ever squirted before?” your eyes grew wide at his words, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.
“I didn’t know I could do that, I’m sorry,” you said shyly, not knowing how to react to it.
“Don’t be sorry, that was hot. I have to change the sheets now, but that’s no big deal,” he said, trying to lighten the mood as he noticed you were unsure how to feel. “But before I do, you think I could make you do that again?”
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miguelhugger2099 · 3 months
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Snowfall
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Summary: You, the Goddess of Life, visit the God of Death in the forest during a snowstorm. Next Miguel x Fem!Reader, Proofread but I was half-asleep, Fluff, A smidge of angst, Word Count: 1,458 This song is what caused this fic to form in my brain.
A blizzard had made its way to the village, its cold and harsh winds slamming against wooden cabins and tiny snowflakes that only piled up into mountains by the hour.
However, by his lonesome, stood a man in the forest. A forest that had once been flourishing with soft green grass, and a gentle blue lake in the middle with the sun's warm rays peeking through the leaves of the giant pine trees.
His black coat and black shawl around his head was a stark contrast to the pure white snow on the ground and in the sky. But it matched perfectly with the splatter of blood that tainted said purity.
He bent down, kneeling before the creature that had spilled blood: a baby deer wounded by its ribs. It was shot for food by hunters right before the blizzard hit, leaving them to abandon the animal.
The fawn wheezed softly, its beady black eyes staring up at the man. It weakly twitched, its hind legs failing to push itself up. The baby had squirmed the closer the man approached it with a gentle hand. Despite the cold weather, the man never shivered when a particular gust of wind blew through the branches, making his shawl slip off his head.
He gently caressed its head, rubbing his thumb comfortingly under its eye. He felt an ache for the poor baby, lost and alone in the bitter cold.
The baby had bleated softly, perhaps a cry to its mother before falling limp–marking the end of its life. His frown deepened, flinching his hand back to his chest and standing up again. The soul of the animal ripped itself from the confinements of mortality, stretching its limbs. He watched it flail around in small hops, before staring at him for a moment, its nose twitching and scurrying away to the afterlife.
He then turned his head down to glare at the dead body until a kind voice interrupted him.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Miguel.” He turned around with his eyes widening slightly. He saw you stand a few feet away from him, your usual soft smile on your face. Quietly, he whispered your name.
You wore a white cloak over a warm thick white cotton dress–he assumed with many layers underneath– and a crown made of branches atop of your head. You seamlessly fit into the background of the snow with your outfit. Your hair was the same, perfect as ever, free and let down from any hairstyle. The cold had gotten to you, snowflakes on your eyelashes and you held yourself close to keep a bit of warmth.
You approached him, the crunch of the snow underneath following you. When you met with him face to face, you gingerly reached over to place his shawl back over his head to protect him from the cold even though you both knew he didn't really need it.
“You shouldn't be here.” Miguel worried, fussing over you as he held you by your forearms. “You're supposed to be resting.”
Every year for a few weeks, you would take the time to sleep after a couple of months caring for Mother Earth. Miguel, the God of Death, offered to help you by taking care of Mother Earth while you slept. So instead of flourishing crops, warm sun and bright scenery, Miguel's cold hands left trees dying, more opportunities for illness, and an even bigger chance of death–the season many humans know as winter.
“I wanted to see you.” You smiled at him which made Miguel scoff at your ridiculousness. He took off his shawl and placed it around you to keep you warmer. Miguel stopped you before you could protest.
“You and I both know that I wear these just so the mortals don't ask questions,” He grumbled, successfully wrapping the fabric in a snug manner. Since you were the Goddess of Life, you were more used to the warmth of the sun shining down on you and the blood pumping through your veins and to your beating heart. For Miguel, all he knows is the coldest feeling there is, so a storm like this could never harm him. You stared up at him with adoration before yawning. Miguel pointed it out. “I knew it. Go back to bed.”
Despite his warning you slip past him to stare at the deer that had fallen into Miguel's care. Your eyes glazed over its body, resting a moment longer on the gunshot wound that was still seeping red into the plush snow, the blizzard slowly covering its body in a white blanket.
He stands behind you as you bend down on your knees to kneel beside the deer, nervously awaiting your reaction. “You tried saving its life, didn't you?” You asked, never turning away from the animal. You began petting it gently as if it were still alive.
Miguel frowned, looking off to the side. “I was putting it out of its misery.” You huffed a small laugh through your nose and got up again on your feet. You turned to him again and reached up to cup his cheek. He melted into your hand, the only source of warmth he could ever get the chance to feel. His eyes softened down at you.
“Thank you.” You whispered. Miguel's face hardened again but he did not stray from your palm.
“For what? For killing your creations?”
You sighed. No matter how many times you've had this conversation with him, he always seemed to put himself down. “You don't kill, Miguel.” You assure him.
“My life's work is to kill. It's my duty.” He retaliated, his eyes glancing at the fawn before looking back down at you.
“You think lowly of yourself.” You slip your hand down to his chest. “Your work is beautiful.”
“There's no beauty in death, my lady.” Miguel placed his hand over yours on his chest. You don't feel a heartbeat drumming inside. “It's grotesque and heartless.”
You scrunch your nose, not believing a word he's said. “And who has told you this? The mortals?” You ask. His jaw clenches.
“They adore you and not me.” He says.
“Are you saying you're jealous, my lord?”
“I'm saying what is true,” He says firmly, not wanting to amuse your upcoming antics. “You are beauty. You are perfection. You are divine,” He cups your cheek and you shiver from the coolness of his fingers.
“Look around you. Mortals are struggling to stay warm, to find food and shelter. I've caused this. They…they curse my name,” He comes closer to you, tilting your head up to meet his ruby eyes. “I fear you shine too brightly, my lady.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him. You shake, not knowing if it's from the puff of wind passing by or your heart stuttering in your chest when he inches closer.
“What are you saying, Miguel?” You whisper.
His eyes dart to your lips, stopping the urge to kiss you. “I want to shine with you. But I'm not worthy. Not with the acts I've done. Not with the blood I've spilled alongside mortals and destroying your works of art.”
“Miguel,” Your heart speeds up, quick to calm the self destructive thoughts he's producing.
“My life has no meaning without you. What good is appreciating life if there is no death? You make living precious. You make it sacred. And when the time comes, you make it merciful,” Your other hand comes up to his hair, running your cold fingertips through his strands. “That is your true nature. Whatever humans do to abuse your power is not a part of you.”
Miguel leans his forehead against you, closing his eyes. You mirror his actions, pressing against him and simply feeling him. His hands move around you, bringing you closer by the waist. The wind passes by with a high pitched whistle. “So…warm.” He breathes out softly.
He pulls away from you, bending at the waist to pick up your hand and kiss your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up while he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You must be tired, mi reina. I'll take you home.”
Miguel reaches down to pick you up bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled closer to him despite his freezing exterior. You feel him hold you tightly to his chest protectively as he walks out of the forest to bring you home.
The fawn's dead body lies underneath a pile of snow now, hidden from the world. Its remains will seep into the ground, nurturing the future plants that will grow in its place once the winter is gone and spring returns– the cycle of life and death– an eternal harmony.
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A/N: man i fucking love anything to do with gods and goddesses. i might make this a mini series of just snippets of their relationship but ahhhh i dunno if anyone will even like this tbh. i did have fun writing it though
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atlabeth · 10 months
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you’re beautiful — anthony lockwood
summary: a meeting goes wrong, feelings come out. you’d like to be sedated again, please.
a/n: so this started as part of “leave the door open” but then i decided i wanted something different (hence the wound dressing scene) but i really liked what i wrote there so here’s an entirely different fic! wow enjoy
wc: 2.5k
warning(s): reader gets stabbed, quite a bit of blood, couple death jokes, mention of not eating, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending tho
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There was a saying in Lockwood & Company, courtesy of its namesake, that, if you had enough confidence, you could dazzle any ghost into submission. 
Nothing but facetiousness of course, but it was true in a symbolic sort of way. If you didn’t believe in yourself, in every slash of your rapier and every circle of filings and every salt bomb measured to perfection, then there was no use showing up at all. You might as well sit down and wait for the ghost-lock to set in. 
Lockwood’s words kept coming back to you every time you doubted yourself, his charming smile and eyes popping up in your mind, twinkling as he made you laugh. 
And those words were certainly echoing through your ears as you stumbled through Portland Row’s door, a hand still pressed to your abdomen when you collapsed. Your rapier, still holstered, clattered against the floor.  
George called your name from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious to your joy. “You’re finally back! How did the meeting go?” 
When you could only groan in response, he emerged into the hallway and his eyes instantly widened. “Oh my god— Lockwood!” 
He rushed over and helped you up, propping you against the wall as his eyes darted all over. He took one hand away to push up his glasses, and you noticed he already had some blood on your fingers. “What in the world happened?” 
“The meeting didn’t go well,” you grit out, sucking in a breath as a sharp column of pain shot through you. 
“I could gather that,” George said wryly, and when you heard footsteps, you both looked up to see Lockwood taking the steps three at a time. 
“What in the world happened?” he asked brazenly, a wild look in his eyes. 
“That’s what I asked—” George said, and your breathy laugh was interrupted by a grimace. 
“The meeting didn’t go well,” you repeated. 
“I need actual details,” Lockwood called as he went off in search of the medical kit. 
“Everything was fine,” you grumbled. “But as it turns out, our lovely source Mr. Pallworth was more skilled in getting into trouble than actually being an informant. He was in debt to some even lovelier relic men.” 
“Oh, god,” George muttered. You winced as he put more pressure on your wound, having taken over for you. “I’m sorry, but this is so you don’t bleed out.” 
“Did you get into a fight or something?” Lockwood marveled, bounding back over with a white box in his hands. “Because it looks like you were stabbed.” 
“One point for Anthony,” you said groggily. “Mr. Pallworth ran off the moment he could, leaving me to deal with his mess. I was indeed stabbed. Only once, somehow. The relic men deserted when the police showed up, and I wasn’t far behind.”
Lockwood knelt down next to you, and he looked at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled your shirt up to expose your wound. He did a good job hiding his grimace as he began to gently wipe away the blood, but it was still there. “Why did you come here and not immediately to the hospital?” 
“I don’t know if you remember, Lockwood,” you breathed, “but this job that we’re doing is not exactly legal.” 
“I don’t care,” he enunciated. “This is above our paygrade, and your life will not be on the line because of our lack of medical knowledge.” 
“We either have to help her here or get her to a hospital,” George said, “because if we sit here bickering, she’ll bleed out before we make a decision.” 
“I’d rather die here than a hospital,” you said.
“You’re not going to die here,” Lockwood said harshly, and his hands opened and closed into fists. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. He eventually let out an annoyed sigh and glanced at George. 
“Phone 999,” he said. “She’s not dying because of her stubbornness.”
George nodded, grimacing at the blood on his hands—your blood, you supposed, which made it worse—and he ran off. 
“I knew I shouldn’t have sent you there alone,” Lockwood grumbled as he started taking things out of the medical kit. 
“No, you didn’t,” you said. “We had no reason to believe anything like this would happen.”
“Well— I should have known!” Lockwood’s voice rose, and his jaw clenched as he got himself back under control. He continued to clean out your wound, and you could hear George rattling off information in the distance to the authorities. 
“You’re cute when you’re determined,” you said. 
“I am determined to not let you die in our foyer,” Lockwood said.
“The foyer.” You mimicked Lockwood’s voice. “So posh.”
“If she’s being this annoying, she can’t be doing too bad,” George said dryly. 
“Loopy from the blood loss,” you said offhandedly. You frowned as it sunk in. “Maybe I should go to a hospital.”
Lockwood heaved a very dramatic sigh as he continued to keep pressure on your wound. “At least you’re coming to your senses now,” he said dryly. He was still kneeling next to you, his hands covered in your blood, that wild look in his eye. “What the hell took so long?”
“I’m not…” you blinked the black spots out of your vision, “good with hospitals.”
“Well, I’m not good with you dying,” Lockwood said.
George came back over. “I’ve called the police—an ambulance is on the way.”
You groaned, half from the pain and half from the thought of the police. “We’re going to have so much explaining to do.”
“Leave that to us,” Lockwood said. For some reason, you found yourself grabbing his hand. He didn’t hesitate, his throat bobbing as he laced your fingers together. “Just hold on for a bit longer.”
You nodded, your mouth going dry for a moment when you looked at him— really looked at him. 
There was unbridled fear in Lockwood’s eyes, the slightest glimmer of tears. If you weren’t slowly bleeding out, if the black spots weren’t taking over your vision, if your grip on his hand wasn’t loosening, you might have been embarrassed at his closeness, at his doting.  
But apparently, you weren’t. 
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured. 
And then everything went dark.
-
You were assaulted by a barrage of lights and beeping, too-bright fluorescents and the sterile scent of disinfectant alerting even your still groggy mind that you were in a hospital.
There was something in your arm—multiple somethings, actually. A tube with a lot of red in one arm, and another with clear liquid in your other arm. Blood and an IV, you guessed. 
Right. You were stabbed, and one does not just walk away from a stab wound without a few problems. 
You weren’t dead, though, and that surely counted for something. You would have to thank Lockwood later, for his stubbornness beating out your own. 
“You’re awake,” a voice breathed, and you realized it was just the boy you were thinking about. 
Lockwood sat next to you in a chair pulled up at your bedside. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and he’d draped his jacket on the back of the chair. His eyes were slightly red, but there was undeniable relief sketched into his face. 
“I am.” Your voice was raspy from disuse, and you grimaced at the soreness in your lower chest. “How long has it been?” 
“A few hours,” he answered. He cleared his throat and moved to the edge of his chair, and your eyes followed the movement. He was holding your hand— he’d been holding your hand. “You— um, you had surgery. A small one, it didn’t take too long, but—” Lockwood’s voice broke, and he laughed mirthlessly as he shook his head. “It was scary. Terrifying, actually, but…” he managed a smile. “You came out the other side. You always do.” 
Your breath caught for a moment, and your grip on his hand tightened subconsciously. “I’m so sorry.” 
“What are you sorry for?” Lockwood asked wryly. “It’s not your fault you were stabbed. You did a rather excellent job fighting them off, actually. It could’ve been much worse.” 
“I’m sorry for putting you and George through this,” you murmured. “I worry about the two of you every second of every day, and most of the time it doesn’t come to fruition. This—” you laughed, which immediately turned into a wince— “I’d say this is fruition.” 
“I’m just glad we got you here in time,” Lockwood muttered. He looked at you, his eyes boring into you with equal parts concern and desperation. You used to hate that about him, especially when you joined, how it always felt like he could look at you and know every single thing. “You said the police showed up in the fight. You were obviously injured— why didn’t you get them to call an ambulance? Why did you risk it all to come back to Portland Row?” 
“I told you. The job we took on was illegal, and I felt it was going to be a much bigger mess than we needed to deal with.” 
“I don’t care how illegal it was,” Lockwood said stiffly. “You were hurt— you were in danger. That comes before anything else, alright? You come before anything else.” 
The intensity of his voice made you pause, unable to do anything but… look at him. His hair was tousled, no doubt from running his hand through it endlessly as he was wont to do whenever he was stressed. His undone tie and discarded jacket, his eyes, red from… from crying, most likely. He cried over you. 
When your hand tightened around his this time, you did it on purpose. 
“Thank you,” you murmured. “You’re probably the reason I’m alive.” 
Lockwood managed to crack a smile. “It wouldn’t look good for the agency if my employees started dying. I don’t have very many to lose.” 
That got a genuine laugh out of you, and you tried your best to ignore the subsequent wince. “Of course. That’s why I pulled through, to make us look better.” 
“Your efforts are much appreciated,” he said, that small smile still on his lips as he rubbed mindless circles on your hand with his thumb. 
The door creaked slightly as someone pushed it open, and a smile broke out on your face when you saw it was George. 
“I was wondering where you were,” you said. 
“Tea,” he said, lifting the drink holder with one hand and a box with his other, “and donuts.” He looked at Lockwood pointedly. “You’ve got to get something in you. It’s not exactly healthy, but the sugar will help.” 
You looked at Lockwood. “You haven’t eaten?” 
“I was preoccupied,” he said dryly. 
“That’s no excuse,” you said. “Eat your donuts, and as soon as we get home, George is cooking you something.” You looked up at him. “Right?” 
“Right,” George agreed. He handed Lockwood one of the cups and set the box on the table, and he smiled as he took a seat across from you. “You look much better. You’re bossing everyone around again—I take it you’re doing better too?” 
“Much,” you nodded. “Thanks for getting me here, by the way. I’d probably have bled out if it weren’t for you.” 
“Of course.” George took a donut from the box. “I can’t let you leave me alone with him.” 
“Oh, I would never,” you said wryly. 
“I’m surprised you’re willing to be alone with him after what you said,” George said offhandedly, and both you and Lockwood stared at him. 
“George—” he started. 
“What do you mean?” you interrupted. 
He made that funny little expression where he knew he said something he probably shouldn’t have, and he busied himself with his donut. “Nothing.” 
“George,” you deadpanned, “I’m the one in the hospital bed. I have pity points. Tell me.” 
Lockwood sighed and leaned back in his chair, though you noticed he still didn’t let go of your hand. 
“I’m guessing you don’t remember what you said,” George said slowly. “Before you blacked out, I mean.” 
“No.” Your eyes darted between the two of them. “Why? Did I say something awful?” 
“Not awful,” Lockwood said, still looking away. “Pretty far from it, I’d say.” 
“Why are you two acting so weird?” you asked. “Spit it out!” 
“You called Lockwood beautiful,” George finally said, and you just about died right there. “Right before you went out, you said he was beautiful.” 
You blinked. Looked at Lockwood, who didn’t seem to be the slightest bit embarrassed—god, was he smiling?—looked at George, who was this time busying himself with his tea. 
“You’re kidding,” you said. 
“...He’s not,” Lockwood said, tilting his head to the side. “You did do that.” 
“Looked up at him, said ‘you’re beautiful’, passed out.” George shrugged as he took another sip of his tea. “Quite dramatic, I’ll give you that. It drove Lockwood absolutely insane, too.” 
“George,” Lockwood said sharply, “don’t you have a phone call to make?” 
He chuckled. “Yeah. How could I forget?”
You weren’t even able to watch him as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Lockwood. You wanted to melt into the bed. This was the absolute worst way for your feelings to come out, feelings that you were content to let sit forever and never really reveal. Apparently, you couldn’t even almost die with dignity. 
“It’s alright,” Lockwood said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 
“No, I do have to be embarrassed.” You stared up at the ceiling. “I do have to be embarrassed, because my last words could have been ‘you’re beautiful’.”
“Why?” he asked. “Do you not think I’m beautiful?” 
You groaned, and if you hadn’t been practically immobile, you would have buried your face in the pillows. “Get a nurse to sedate me again, please.” 
Lockwood flashed that irritatingly pretty grin as he took your hand again. You hadn’t even realized he’d let go. “Relax. I think you’re beautiful too.” 
You raised your eyebrows. “Even now?”
“Even now,” Lockwood said. “Always.”
“At least you’re not saying it half-conscious and dying,” you mumbled. 
“I think it’s better I’m saying it now,” he said. “You know I mean it.” 
You looked him in the eye. “You really do?” 
“What did I just say?” Lockwood chuckled. “Always. Forever.” 
You felt the heat creep to your cheeks. “I can’t believe this is what it took to get you to admit your feelings.” 
“It took this for you to admit your feelings,” he countered. “It took you admitting them for me to admit them. I never really knew you felt the same way.” 
“I guess I have a flair for dramatics,” you said wryly. 
“It seems so,” Lockwood said. “How about after all this is done, when you’re good and cleared by the doctor, I’ll take you out for tea. My treat.”  
“You pay my salary,” you said. “Everything is practically your treat.” 
Lockwood grinned. “Do you want to go on a date with me or not?” 
You smiled, and you pulled your joined hands closer. You pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 
“Excellent.” He smiled as well, a breath of relief coming out of him, and he leaned closer. “Just remember that you don’t have to get stabbed to get me to ask you out on a second date.”  
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alreadyblondenow · 1 month
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Virgin as you can be | Lee Taeyong (TEASER)
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✦ Taeyong x Female Reader
✦ Smut, filthy, fluff and Angst. Mature College AU
✦ 1/2 Taeyong Smut Series: I found you
Summary: More than friends but less than lovers. Taeyong meets you, a virgin, through an online dating app and offered you a once in a lifetime opportunity. An opportunity to have fun and enjoy your last year in college differently. Knowing that you’re a virgin, Taeyong plans on keeping it that way for as long as he wanted to. He’s taking his sweet time until he finally takes your virginity.
Warnings: This is pure fiction, this is the filthiest most smuttiest fic I’ve ever written, foreplay galore, use of sex toys like vibrator and dildo, mentions of pills, the reader will someday use pills in the story, oral sex, nipple play, oil massage, mentions of alcohol.
A/N: if you enjoyed the story, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel. Also please support ‘TAP’, Taeyong’s masterpiece 🥹 I’m super proud of him!!!
Let me know if u want to be tagged!
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He has been counting the days until he can see you again and spend time with you again. You are the only person in his mind, thinking about what you’re doing every second of the day. He misses you, but he can’t put it into words. He tries to compose a message, but ends up deleting it until he’s already busy again… and he never got the chance to send the text.
“Dude, just finish the fashion week then spend time with her again” Johnny says, as someone who’s been in a long distance relationship.
“So this is what long distance—“ Taeyong did not finish his sentence.
“you two are in a relationship?” Johnny confirms, surprised at what Taeyong said. Jaehyun was all ears too while he’s on the chair for his hair and makeup.
“No” Taeyong defends. His voice automatically surrounded the room. “Were not in a relationship— were just having fun” Taeyong explains while he fixes his Loewe outfit that’s perfect already.
The fashion week is the busiest for Taeyong, you know this because Taeyong is a famous Loewe ambassador outside school… but oh you wish he could tell you that he’s busy, that he’s not available, that he’d call you back… but he never did. What do you expect?
You’re not his, and he’s not yours.
“So are you coming tonight?” Your friend asks you with a smirk. She doesn’t know about Taeyong, no one does. “Let’s go meet some boys???” She asks again.
This is a good opportunity to help yourself. Help yourself to forget the person who made you feel good in all the right places with just a single touch. An opportunity to forget someone who’s beyond perfect.
And you can’t have him.
Reality hits you.
“Yeah. I’ll come with you guys” you answered your friend with the most uninterested tone.
The night continued to be loud and wild, a perfect setting to forget about Taeyong even just for a few hours. You just wanted to stop missing him and his touch because you’re about to get crazy about him. It’s not that you’ve fallen in love with him already, it’s the feeling that he made you experience. Every secret. Every kiss, every touch. Everything in between… you became addicted to receiving it.
Shot by shot you drink everything until you blacked out and dozed off on the bar table. Your friends are clueless with how to bring you home because they’re drunk and wasted too. But suddenly you received a call.
A call that you’ve been waiting for weeks.
A call that will rescue you in your drunken state.
“Hi! This is not Y/n… but whoever you are. Can you pick her up at 127 bar? She’s drunk and so am I byeee….”
Taeyong was speechless over the phone while listening to your friend. But even so, he hurried himself and drove straight to 127 bar. Even though he’s tired, even though all he wanted to do is sleep… he chose to pick you up. Blushing on his way, excited to finally see you.
When he arrived you were the only one left sleeping at the bar, Taeyong was quick to cover you with his jacket and carefully walked you towards his car. Holding you close to him, not giving a fuck about anyone who sees him holding you. ‘Let them talk’ he thought. Right now he just wanted to keep you safe and drive you home.
It’s not that you weren’t aware that Taeyong is the one holding you right now, in fact, your embrace tightened when you smelled his expensive perfume. You knew it was Taeyong. But you were just so drunk that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. All you could say is ‘I want to be with you’ and slept through the entire car ride.
The next day, the familiar broad shoulders of Taeyong is the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes. He was sleeping soundly, while holding your hand. You have the most space of his bed, while he was the one squeezing himself on the side. You felt sorry and pulled him gently, careful not to wake him up but you failed. He greeted you with sweet smile. The one that makes every girl in school crazy for him. But this time, you’re the only one seeing this beautiful smile first thing in the morning.
“Hi,” he started and pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead and feeling his heartbeat against his bare chest. This is the first time you see him bare like this even though you’ve done crazy things already. And you can’t help yourself to look at every tattoo he has, tracing it with your fingertips, leaving you speechless.
“Did you have a good time last night?” he added.
You feel like you needed to apologize so you told him the truth, about what you felt when he was away. About the things that keeps you awake at night, the worries you keep on thinking, “I just thought I lost you and… I will never see you again just because you didn’t like…what I did, the last time we spent together” you were talking about the blowjob that you gave him. You faintly remember how he looked so frustrated that time.
Taeyong let out a cute laugh, looking so angelic under this morning light. His hand is perfectly wrapped around you. “I can’t believe you’re stressing yourself with the things that aren’t true. I was just busy at work but during those times, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you… I miss you” he explains.
You were once again speechless because of his honesty and feelings.
“Let’s just forget the time that we weren’t together and pick up where we left off? What do you say?” He says as if he’s suggesting to do something.
Of course he is.
And you’re up for it.
“What do you have in mind?” You said, smiling.
“It involves my tongue… on your cunt,” he whispered seductively beside your ear. Feeling his lips on your neck, trailing kisses until he reaches your lips, “and your legs getting weaker by the second” he added and showed you how much he misses you through his kisses and you see Taeyong’s smile clear as the day, a sign that you didn’t lose him at all.
You feel his hands roam on your body, putting his hand inside your sweat pants, his fingers were cold but you didn’t care. You still remember the first time his hand was inside your panties for the first time and how his fingers felt so good against your wet cunt. It felt like yesterday you thought to yourself… And today, he will once again become your first time.
“Can you go in all fours?” He requests while he kisses you deeply. Of course you comply to his request, you love how every time you feel his presence behind you and in between your legs, you have no idea what’s coming next. You’re always clueless about his next move. He did mentioned that there will be oral sex again, but knowing Taeyong… he will not go right into it… he likes to take his sweet time and play.
He started with something you’re familiar with. His touch and kisses. He spreads kisses on your back, hands gently massage you from behind. Removing your sleepwear and making you moan from time to time with every teasing and touch he does. It’s relaxing but a different kind of relaxing, you feel tingles in between your legs, you feel wetter by the second and his very touch turns you on.
Slowly you feel his hands trail up from your waist, until he reaches the sides of your boobs which are damn sensitive. It makes you weak whenever he touches you on these parts, swirling his fingers on the sides of your boobs and cupping it both hands in the softest way possible to make your nipples hard and sensitive.
“Do you like it?” Taeyong asks then left a kiss on your lower back. You can only answer with a soft moan.
He did the same things again and again and again until your whole body is sensitive and your nipples are hard as fuck from his teasing. Until he proceeds to the main event without a warning. From behind, he licked your wet panties and teased your wet pussy with his tongue and fingers. Moving up and down slowly, tickling your cunt with his fingertips softly.
Even that thin barrier between Taeyong’s tongue and your cunt feels good you thought. And when Taeyong was done playing, he removed your panties in swift move, spreading your legs good for your own benefit. Without any warning he started with a few good licks that took your breath away. So this is what it feels like being licked by the cunt. It made you nervous, it gave you a tingly effect, it made you want to close your legs, at made you want more.
“Good?” He asked, you nod.
For the second time, you’re now on your back, enjoying the comfort of Taeyong’s soft bed. But now it wasn’t just Taeyong’s tongue making you feel good, his lips were involved this time. It was like he was kissing your cunt with tongue, a wet kiss that felt like your pussy juices won’t stop flowing because Taeyong is doing such a great job. Licking you up and down, licking your clit while reaching for your hard nipples and pinching it. By that, you earned your first orgasm through Taeyong’s tongue.
But he was not yet done.
Using his fingers, he spread your pussy lips and started licking aggressively. Pushing his head towards you more, feeling his nose on your pussy. This time you really couldn’t stop yourself and try to close your legs, calling Taeyong’s name as you moan how good he’s making you feel. Soon you hit another high. He was right, it will make your legs weak.
Others girls would last long, but you don’t. And that’s what Taeyong love about you.
He crawled up to you, comfortable in the position in between your legs while waiting for you to come down from your high. He loves seeing you like this. Horny and ruined all because of him. “Calm down, breathe” he giggles and started kissing your boobs. Sucking and kneading them as he waits for you.
“How can I breathe if you constantly take my breath away?” You asked with a flirty look, the man in front of you couldn’t resist himself and kissed you hard. Asking for another round in an instant. You feel his hard cock inside his sweat pants and you instantly feel bad because you can’t do something in return for him.
Of course Taeyong can see right through you, so he reached for your hand, kissed it before he puts it inside his sweat pants, your eyes went big with what he did. Clearly remembering the last time you touched him and gave him head for the first time.
“I wasn’t frustrated that time,” he moans as he enjoys every stroke you give on his clothed hard cock. “I was frustrated at myself because I couldn’t fuck you that time… but I loved everything you did last time. That pretty mouth if yours sure do know how to make me crazy for more” he says and kissed you to prove what he was saying.
Now that everything is clear and you worried for nothing, you wanted to make it up to him. With bravery, you put your hand inside his boxer briefs and tightened the grip around his hard cock, he already knew what to do of course. He closed is eyes and thrusted hard, moving his hips and fucking your hand. Pretending and imagining that its your hole. You spread kisses in Taeyong’s neck, licking his hard nipples while his imagination runs wild until he cums on your hand and making a mess. Nobody cared. You were both really horny and craving for more.
After a few rounds of fooling around, you and Taeyong spent the whole day kissing, giggling and watching movies in his room. Never leaving each other’s touch.
“When will you take me home?” You asked softly while your eyes were both closed. Enjoying his dimmed room and just basking in each other’s presence.
“I really hate watching you leave” he says, pulling you closer to him and tightening his embrace.
“Have you ever been in love?”
You suddenly asked. The words just came out of your mouth.
You knew a lot of things about him but you’ve never asked him something so personal. You feel like you’ve done something wrong again…
“I’m sorry—“ you apologize.
“Don’t be. It’s just that… I don’t know the answer. But I do know that love is complicated and I don’t like complicated things. Complications ruins things”
You nod and changed the subject.
“How about, first sex?”
“It’s boring. The third one was better” he smirked.
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