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occamstfs · 2 months

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Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready.

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu”

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it.

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R.

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur.

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit.

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?”

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind.

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt.

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!”

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

#racial change #male tf #muscle tf #mental change #race change #masculinization

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ellecdc · 3 months

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Get in the Car!

Modern AU, James Potter x gn reader (no pronouns used)

Fluff, fluff, fluff. Absolutely did not think this story up while I brushed my own car off this morning......absolutely not..... 🙃

Your fingers were quickly becoming simultaneously numb and increasingly painful as you begrudgingly brushed snow off your car after your closing shift. You were about to acquiesce and put your mittens on that you were sure you could do without when a car quickly pulled up behind yours.

You were tense until you realized you recognized the vehicle, and more importantly, it's driver.

"Baby!" James squealed as rushed out of his car to greet you. "Get inside!"

You couldn't help to laugh at him shouting at you as if you were a small child about to touch a hot burner on the stove. "What? What are you doing here?"

"Get in the car! It's freezing out." He answers instead, vying for the snow brush in your hand.

"I know it's freezing out! That's why I'm bundled up in my jacket. Did you just leave the gym?" You asked, taking note of his still slightly sweaty skin and his hoodie and joggers combo.

"Yes, I stopped on my way home, thought I could get here before you came off work." He said a bit quieter now, kissing the side of your head.

"You came here just to brush my car off?" You asked in awe, arms going slack with your grip still on the brush.

"'Course I did! You're too pretty to be brushing snow off your car in this cold!" He says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

You barked a laugh. "Oh please! You're pretty too!"

James batted his eyelashes at you from behind his frames. "Well thank you baby." He said, voice sticky sweet. "But next to you I am one ugly bastard. Get in the car."

"Jamie..." you started but relinquished your grasp on the brush.

"In, in, in!" He chanted, punctuating each word with a gentle pat on your bum as you moved to climb in and start your car. The defroster was working over time as you rubbed your numb hands together in hopes to regain some circulation.

You couldn't help but marvel at James as he made quick work of your car; his messy curls bouncing with each pass of the brush, and the flex of his muscles under his sweater as he extended his arms.

You wanted to cry, thinking about how he had also worked today and gone to the gym and had to brush his own car off and then raced to your work hoping to brush your car off before you got off just so you wouldn't have to.

You absolutely would have started crying, but thankfully James was already knocking at your trunk, asking for you to pop it so he could put the brush away.

You rolled down your window as he came up to your door. "Did you plan all this?"

"Nope." He said with a pop at the P. "It was just a very happy accident."

You smiled and kissed him. "I don't believe you."

He smiled so wide that both dimples made an appearance on his beautifully tanned face. "I love you."

"I love you too Jamie." You said, mirroring his smile. "Drive safe, 'kay?" You offered as he backed away from your door.

"Pfft, I always do! Gotta make sure I get home to my angel." He sang with a wink as he back towards his car.

You watched him pull his car out of the parking lot as your cheeks began to feel sore from smiling so hard. You hit the absolute jackpot with James Potter.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #reader insert #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #I'm too pretty for this #you're too pretty for this #boyfriend james potter #short ficlet #marauders era #ellecdc fics

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princessbrunette · 4 months

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brat tamer rafe when he's arguing with his girlfriend and she starts talking over him

🐾ᯤ

sitting in wards old office which now belongs to rafe, arguing with him over something so silly and he’s just not listening! you’re sat on the leather couch and he’s pacing back and forth— if you weren’t so mad at him you’d be fawning over how good he looks in his shirt and blazer and slacks — like a real grown man, which usually made you salivate. instead, you’re sulking, hands on your knees with a pout on your face. this argument has been going in circles for like 20 minutes now, because you were certain you did nothing wrong.

“theres rules… to this relationship baby you know that. okay? you’re — you’re not stupid so i don’t understand why the hell you thought it was a good idea to come down the stairs when im in the middle of a deal— making money for you to—”

you can’t help but cut him off, whiny and petulant to make your point. “but rafe how am i supposed to know when you—”

“hey, hey — i’m talking now!” he yells, his loud voice echoing as he points to himself. you instantly shut up, mouth closing as tears spring to your eyes. “what’s not clicking with you being in trouble and not fucking listening to me when im explaining? huh?” he lowers his voice only slightly as he looms over you threateningly. as soon as you start to sniffle, placing your face into your hands and letting out little sobs his resolve crumbles a little, letting out a sigh and beginning to pace again, running a hand over his face.

“okay, okay alright.” he squats infront of you. “alright.” he adds slower and you look up at him, mascara a mess beneath your eyes. “maybe… maybe i shouldn’t have yelled, okay? you just —” he sighs in frustration shaking his head. “you drive me crazy sometimes, you know? when you don’t listen it’s like — you don’t wanna understand… and i can’t have that. you want this to work, i need you to listen to me. can you do that? can you listen?” he speaks softer one of his hands taking yours.

you nod, and he mirrors it, staring at you as he thought. you were just about to meekly ask what he was thinking about before he stood up to his full height. “you need to learn your lesson, ‘kay?” it sounds sympathetic, but you knew it had to be the opposite.

within no time, he’s got you bent over his lap — 15 hard, loud spanks in. you’re crying and writhing around over his thighs, somewhere between ashamed and deeply horny. your skirt was bunched at your lower back and your panties pulled to your knees, so you knew he must be able to see or hear how soaked you were. your thoughts were answered when he gave in to your writhing and whimpers and started to spread your wetness around with his fingers before pushing in.

he sets a punishing pace, and as if the position wasn’t humiliating enough — he’s lecturing you the entire time. knuckles deep in your cunt, occasionally feeling his big rings graze your fat lips. he sighs, shaking his head.

“you know, i don’t think you appreciate all i do for you. why i do these things, sweetheart. it’s for your own safety okay? i make deals with all different sorts of people and — and id hate for you to be wrapped up in something you can’t handle. yeah? s’why i get mad. is that fair? am i the bad guy for wanting to protect you?”

“no daddy, you treat me so well.” you mewl, arching your back, practically drooling as he finger fucks you within an inch of your life. he sighs out his nose, thumbing at your spine.

“yeah. yeah i do”

🐾ᯤ

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

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dexlexia · 7 months

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in the car - gojo x reader

pairing: satoru gojo x reader rating: 18+ summary: ”We'll take it slow.“ ”You're lying.“ tags: virgin!reader, pervert!gojo, he's obsessed with you too, masturbation in car

”We'll take it slow.“

”You're lying.“

Gojo smirked as he leaned in for another kiss. The date had gone smoothly, you questioned if it really happened or was just a dream. Gojo really did wine and dine you. He took you to a nice place in Shibuya, he ordered the nicest white wine available and watched you with a glint in those blue eyes as you enjoyed the food.

You knew what Gojo wanted, after almost ten dates you had yet to have sex. Gojo knew you were a virgin and he wanted to take pride in being your first time. But you wanted to make sure he was worthy to do so.

In all honesty, you weren't a prude or anything. You were just so busy that you never took the time to lose your virginity. But now as an adult, men like Gojo want the prize of being your first time. And if he was going to, he'd have to work for it.

He had just driven you home and was walking with you to the door. His hand just above your ass, as you walked he leaned down to press his nose against your neck. He could feel the tightness in his pants. He couldn't help it! His thoughts had been polluted by you, he was obsessed with you.

He wanted to be the only person you ever had sex with. Call him a possessive bastard but he wanted nothing more than to live that dream. He'd do anything to make it happen, even play along with your little cat and mouse. He'd get his way eventually.

”I'm not lying.“ He said as he kissed your hand before he pressed it to his face, ”I would be a great lover, c'mon. I want to know what my beauty feels like.“

You looked away and at your door for a moment, “you're such a fuck boy, Gojo.” You remarked, you had never really been showered this much by affection and love. But you weren't going to let yourself be fooled easily.

You heard stories about Gojo, the white haired sex devil. Some were rumors, others were true and you couldn't tell them apart. He was a horny bastard who wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

“No I'm not, I'm a true romantic.” He responded as he leaned in to kiss you. Both hands on your shoulder as he passionately made out with you. You moaned into the kiss.

You soon pulled away and looked up at him, ”Not tonight, Satoru. You have a good night now.“ Then pecked him on the cheek before you went inside leaving him outside alone.

When the door closed in his face, he let out a pained groan. He adored you, was obsessed with you, but he wasn't too sure how much longer he could take without getting a sweet taste of your cunt. It was driving him mad!

He was painfully erect in his slacks as he hobbled back to his car to drive home. Every few steps he had to adjust his hard-on in his pants to make walking easier. But thoughts of you swirled in his mind.

You looked divine in that outfit, he wished he could've torn it off of you and fucked you in the foyer of your home. Or maybe you'd be able to make it to the couch. There was a lot that Gojo had in mind with you.

He wondered what noises you'd make as he entered his car. His cock painfully hard as he tried to get comfortable enough to drive home. He'd have to be semi-careful; he didn't want to bruise you during your first time.

But if you made the noises that he was envisioning then he'd really have to control himself. He knew that eventually you'd come into your own as a freak in the bedroom. Gojo would be more than happy to teach you all about how to give good head and how to orgasm every time he stuck his cock in you.

He knew you'd be a good girl for him, while you were assertive outside of the bedroom, he bet that you were a perfect little lamb between the sheets. You'd let him make you feel good, every orgasm was a reward for being a good girl.

But Gojo wasn't getting comfortable enough to drive him. He ended up undoing his belt and taking his cock out of his pants. He spit in his hand and started to stroke his length quickly.

He had to be fast.

”Fuck.“ The blue-eyed man huffed under his breath, he had to get some kind of friction on his cock or else he'd explode. He was thankful you lived in a quiet neighborhood.

He looked to your house and saw a light on upstairs, he started to imagine what you looked like without all those clothes on. Your beautiful body, he knew you'd be beautiful. With a gorgeous cunt to match.

He thought about diving in for the first time, the euphoria that would come with it as he watched your face contort as you lost your virginity. The thoughts made his heart race, oh how he wanted to be your first. And possibly your only partner, you'd only have eyes for his cock.

No one else.

He was possessive like that, he wanted to know that only he'd ever have sex with you. No other man would stick his filthy cock inside of you. You'd be Gojo's perfect girl, he wouldn't want any other woman either. He'd just want your sweet, sweet pussy over, and over again.

He grabbed his cock tighter as he thrusted up into his hand, he wanted you so badly. It was driving his crazy, he didn't know how much longer he could live like this..

He was a man without water, he was driven mad by the allure of your pussy. He wanted to get drunk off of it, he wanted it seated on his cock, on his face, every single way he could get a hold of it!

He groaned, his face felt warm as he feverishly stroked his length. He was driven to madness by this, so much so he was masturbating in his car like a pervert. His cock twitched in his palm as he continued to stroke it.

He bit back a moan as he leaned back a little in his driver's seat. He continued to pleasure himself as he felt the orgasm approach. He really was down bad for you, he wanted you so badly. He wanted nothing more than to feel your bare body against him.

He knew he'd make you feel so good. He'd make you orgasm so many times, he had done it to so many women. He wanted to ruin your virginity and make you obsessed with him as he was you.

He grit his teeth as he continued to thrust up into his hand, even spitting more into his palm to get an easier thrust. He stomach clenched at the feeling that he'd be orgasming soon.

A groan slipped out from his lips as he felt the rush of pleasure through his body. He panted wildly in his warm car as he felt himself on the edge of pleasure. It was a great feeling, but not as great as being able to plow his cock into you.

”Fuck, fuck!“ He groaned to himself as his movements were fast. He bit back a louder groan as his entire body went stiff as he came around his hand. Cum gushed out everywhere including his hand, slacks and even the steering wheel.

He panted, ”Holy shit.” He relaxed against the seat as he grabbed napkins from the cup holder to wipe down everything. He knew he'd have a sticky hand the entire drive home.

His head still felt in a rush as he tried to clean himself up. Eventually he got as clean as he could and put his cock back into his pants. It was tender as he tucked it back in.

”Soon.“ He promised himself. Then his phone rang. He grabbed it and he looked at the text, it was from you.

'You know, Gojo.' It read, 'If you're going to be so desperate, then just come in and I can make you feel better than whatever you're doing out there' and it was signed off with a heart.

Gojo's blue eyes went wide as he looked at the text message. His cheeks grew warmer but he didn't want to miss the opportunity so he got out of the car and raced to your home. His heart was hammering in his chest.

He was finally getting what he wanted. He ws going to fuck your sweet pussy, and all it took was to be a pathetic pervert jerking off in his car. And if that was all it took to go down on you then he'd be more than happy to take it.

#dexlexia writes #jjk x reader #reader insert #anime x reader #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru gojō x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo my beloved #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou x reader

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just-jordie-things · 9 months

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Choso headcanons :)

okokok here's some random stuff i came up with.

choso would try very hard to learn how to do your hair for you. he usually has his hair up in buns, right? so he'll happily do that for you. but also will take the time to learn how to braid, or use tools like a curler/straightener to style it the way you like. even on days you don't necessarily style it, he also loves to just brush it for you. i think he'd find the action sweet and intimate.

always lets you try to food he makes (when eating in) or orders (when eating out) and would never get annoyed if you eat more of his food than your own. in fact i think he'd find it adorable <3

100,000,000% will get a matching tattoo with you. big or small, meaningful or silly/cute. if you suggest it he's booking an appt with his regular artist right away.

also he has a favorite tattoo artist that has done most of his sleeves and some others on his back and legs. choso loves tattoos. what he likes most about his are that you like to mindlessly trace them from time to time when you're lounging around together.

doting partner. never slacks off on the chores. never makes you feel like you're doing most of the work. often surprises you with a perfectly clean house and dinner cooking on the stove when he's home before you and has time to spare.

and speaking of doting. he's there for anything you need company for. a nail appt? he's chatting with your technician and playing pokemon go. grocery shopping? without fail, what a great excuse for walking around and holding your hand. gotta run to the pharmacy? he's happy to drive you and wait with you. no matter what you're doing, he's grateful to spend time with you.

he's more perceptive than most people give him credit for. but he can read your expression in a second. even if you're quick to go blank, he'll catch that frown or wince or shock before you've even realized you'd made that face out loud. if it's stress, he's holding your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist. if you're reacting to something that just happened but are trying to be subtle about it, he'll smirk and follow your line of sight to see what had caught your attention. wordlessly, the two of you will practically gossip between yourselves.

ok last one on my mind. choso is a reptile person. he would definitely have a beardie or maybe a leopard gecko or a ball python or something. and he'd love that little thing. coos and baby talks it when it eats well or is just sittin in it's enclosure basking. if you're not a reptile person he'd be understanding and keep the enclosure somewhere that you won't see often and get creeped out. but if you are a reptile person he would be ecstatic to see you spend some enrichment time with the little creature. (i'm totally not projecting myself here hehehe)

#jordie says stuff #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso headcanons #kamo choso x reader #choso brainrot #kamo choso headcanons #choso kamo headcanons #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader headcanons

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goofygecko · 9 months

Text

Through The Window

Part 2

Masterlist

Stalker!William x AFAB!reader

Summary:

William sees you touching yourself through your window and enjoys himself, I mean, how can he deny such a splendid view?

Warnings

Stalking (duh), slight public masturbation?, voyeurism?, masturbation, mention of past panty thieving, breeding kink? (If you squint), thoughts of publicly groping, boss/employee trope, older man/younger woman

Your boss might have liked you a little bit too much– hell, he was practically obsessed with you! –not that it bothered you that much though, seeing as your feelings for him were also apparent as well.

So you didn't have a problem with his behavior towards you when he'd see you in public or at the pizzeria.

But it got weird.

Really weird.

Crossing paths him became daily. It was no longer limited to just at work or at the store, no, it was on your weekend jogs and on your walk home. He'd be everywhere you went.

Not that it deterred you. You might have gotten even friendlier with him really.

I mean, why would you be? You thought he was perfect; from his his salt and pepper always slicked back professionally in a way that framed his sharp facial features, his nose hooked to give it a smooth look, to his long, slender hands that you swear would just feel so good around your throat.

You needed him.

He wanted you. Badly.

He would sneak into your house and steal your panties and stash them in his office, once even getting brave enough and snapping a picture of you in the shower (you almost caught him that time, turns out slipping a camera behind a shower curtain isn't the quietest thing in the world to do.) saving the photos in his desk and night stand, touching himself to the pictures of your nude frame, imagining you were on top of him, riding him like your life depended on it.

Everytime he saw you he could barely contain himself, he wanted to bend you over every surface in that pizzeria and fuck you until you were a babbling, incoherent, dumbed-out mess. He wanted you to scream for him as you came around him for the umpteenth-million time as he slapped your ass so hard it was a bright red.

He'd wonder what you sounded like when you begged him to fuck you. To breed you.

And boy, would he find out.

You had the closing shift at the pizzeria, meaning you'd have to walk home at around 12 when the sun had fully set.

But, William hadn't left the building yet. Of course you knew this, but you didn't bother to tell him you were leaving, not wanting to disturb his 'important business.' Not knowing he was watching you from the hallway as you left.

Shortly after you left the building he made his way out aswell, following you from behind the line of trees you always walked by. Sure he had a car and he could easily just drive to your home, but, what was the fun in that? There was no thrill in just driving his way there. He needed to be so close to you as you walked your path that he could practically could smell you.

And God did he love how you smelled.

It took around 20 minutes for you to get to your home and he watched as you struggled with your keys, waiting to find his position at your window.

After fumbling with your keys for a while you finally managed to unlock your front door. Finally shifting to outside you bedroom window, William saw as you walked in slowly pulling your pants and shirt off as you walked to your bed and lying down onto it left in only your bra and panties. As his eyes locked on you he could feel himself getting harder against his slacks, mouth watering hungrily for you.

"Fuck..." mumbling quietly, you slid a hand into your thin white panties, rubbing at yourself slowly. Window open just enough so that he could hear.

Eyes opening widely as you moaned and touched yourself slowly, William began to palm at his erection to the same rhythm of your hand.

"D-Damn it, Mr.Afton..."

His cock twitched in his pants as he froze.

Did he really just hear that?

Did you really moan his name?

Fuck, you were one gift box waiting to be unwrapped.

He could see as you slowly started inserting a finger into your own core, pumping it in and out as you closed you legs around your hand. Fuck, he just wanted so badly to grab and kneed your soft tits whenever he saw you to show everyone who you belong to. He wanted to grab the fat of your ass whenever you wore your skirts to the pizzeria, he wanted to hear you gasp as he pawed and clawed at your ass out in the open.

Fuck, he could feel his cock straining against his pants uncomfortably just thinking about it.

"Fuck it." Groaning under his breath, William pulled his cock out of the confinements of his pants pumping it hastily in time with your fingers that fucked into your cunt.

You were so God damn horny that you couldn't hear the sound of his belt jingling and zipper being pulled down through your own moaning and whimpering.

"M-Mr.Afton! Fuck mee!" Pleading as you quickened your pace making him pump himself faster into his hand.

He wished he was there on top of you filling you with his seed til' you were fully bred and ozing with his cum. Too bad he was stuck with watching you. ( :( )

Your voice got so high pitched as you came closer to your climax that he almost thought he had the wrong house and he was just creeping on some random girl that slightly resembled you.

He knew that wasn't the case though, with how sweetly you moaned his name. (<3 )

"Oh fuck, Mr.Afton! 'm gonna cum!" You cried out loudly, quickly pulling your fingers out of your cunt and rubbing your clit urgently, back arching as you rolled your head back slightly.

William exploded as soon as you said that, his cum coating his hand as he watched you reach your high, grass under him crumpling quietly as his cum hit it.

You quickly fell asleep from your intense orgasm giving him his cue to leave.

God, he'd definitely have you bent over his desk next time he saw you.

A/N: Oh my god this took insanely long to finish writing I am so sorry! 😭💔

#william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf william afton #fnaf fandom #fnaf smut #william afton #fnaf x reader #william afton x you

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

I saw your post about marauders request so could you do a Professor Remus x Professor reader where Remus is grading papers and the reader is needy. So he tells her get off on his thigh? also cockwarming? (it doesn't have to be professors, whatever you are comfortable with lol)

thankyou🖤

thank you for requesting!🖤

“Remus, please.”

The whines leaving your lips were pathetic and needy and obscene as they echoed through the empty classroom. Almost as obscene as the mess you had left on his thigh.

You had sauntered into the room over thirty minutes ago, flashing puppy dog eyes and leaning over his desk as you innocently flashed him the new set he could see peeking through the buttons of your shirt. You had been driving him insane all day, sending notes to him during his classes and winking at him in the corridors.

You were pushing his buttons and you thought he’d snap the second you were alone and he could get his hands on you.

Instead, he had promptly ignored you after muttering “hi, love” before returning to the papers he was grading.

Your hands were all over him and your lips were on his neck and it was distracting when he had work to do. But you were a brat and you were in one of your moods and he didn't have time to deal with you properly yet.

Which was exactly how you found yourself straddling his thigh, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips bucked and rolled against the material of his slacks. You were soaked, dripping down your thighs and onto his leg. It should’ve been embarrassing but it just made your stomach twist in delight.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted breathlessly, staring helplessly at the side of his face as he marked something on the essay he was currently reading.

“Did I say you could come?” he asked bluntly.

You swallowed. “No, but—”

You felt a sharp slap to the side of your thigh and your body jerked at the movement.

“Then keep going and stop crying about it,” he gritted through clenched teeth, not even sparing you a glance.

It should’ve pissed you off but it only made the pulsing between your legs grow. He was giving you a taste of your own medicine in his own way and it delighted you.

But then you were nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips every time your clit brushed against his thick thigh and you needed a release.

And you thought you’d got it when Remus dropped his quill. You thought he was going to bend you over his desk, push your legs apart and give you what you had been begging for all day.

Instead he pushed his chair back and turned to look at you, eyes narrowed as he gripped your hips to stop your movements, keeping you still and hovering over his thigh.

“On your knees.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“On. Your. Knees.”

You didn’t give him a chance to repeat himself a third time as you scrambled to the space between his legs on the floor, on your knees as you looked up at him expectantly.

“Such a needy little whore,” he grumbled as his fingers worked his belt buckle before he unzipped his slacks, pulling his hard cock out and giving himself a few strokes. “Been crying for my dick all day, haven’t you, baby?”

“Please,” you rasped, biting on your lower lip as you watched a bead of precum settle on his tip.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Remus’ voice was rough and low, and it made you squeeze your thighs together. “You’re gonna sit there like a good girl with my cock in your mouth cause that’s what little sluts like you want, hm? And you’re gonna sit there, nice and quiet until I’m done.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Remus—”

He flashed you a look.

“Sir,” you corrected yourself, your cheeks flushing at the name. “Please—”

“Do you wanna be a good girl?”

You nodded your head.

“Then do what I said.”

Remus guided his cock past your plush lips, delving in the way you moaned as his length laid heavy on your tongue. He wound his fingers in the back of your head, tugging you closer until your nose brushed against the tuffs of hair at the base of his cock.

“Atta girl,” he groaned as he looked down at you under his desk, your cheek pressed against his thigh as you hopelessly stared up at him. “Better stay quiet now, love, cause Slughorn is gonna be walking through that door to have a meeting with me. Wouldn’t want him to see how much of a whore his former star pupil is, huh?”

He could only smirk at the way your eyes fell shut, your hands gripping the slacks of his trousers to stop yourself from settling them between your thighs.

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borbygorlinbbqworld · 5 days

Text

Thanks, Boss

---

The idea of returning to work had been a looming dark cloud at the back of Kate's mind for the last month. Her maternity leave was over, which meant leaving her babies behind.

She had never expected quadruplets--who did, after all? But they had all been born healthy, and all with voracious appetites. Since the price of formula had sky-rocketed, she had had no choice but to nurse them and pump.

"Pump?" her mother had asked when she told her. "You mean there's still some left in there after feeding four kids?!"

It had been so hard to explain that her pregnancy had made her mammaries go absolutely haywire. In addition to expanding to exorbant proportions, they always seemed to be in hyper production mode when it came to milk.

It meant her massive breasts always felt incredibly full and heavy. During the day, it had been fine because she was able to nurse frequently, but the moment her babies went to sleep for the night, her breasts basically had to be pumped constantly or else she would leak all through the night.

She was no idea how she was going to make it through her first day back at work.

Sitting in her car in the lot, she listened to the hum of the pumps getting out as much milk as possible before she had to go into the office. She hadn't planned to pump before work, but as it was, the biggest bra she owned had started to overflow with her expanding cleavage on the drive in. So rather than let them leak through her shirt, Kate popped the pumps on, changing them to the highest setting.

She reached into the box where she'd stored the empty bottles to be used at the lunch time pumping session, only to find the box was empty. She whipped around, accidentally slamming one her her breast against the car horn.

How on earth was it only 8:50 AM, and she had managed to fill all fifteen bottles?

With a worry, she watched as the last of the bottles still attached to the pump filled up. She turned it off and capped the bottles, placing them with the others in the electric cooler sitting in her passenger side seat.

Though the pumping session--15 bottles worth!--had given her some relief, she knew it wouldn't last long; she certainly wasn't anywhere close to empty.

Kate got out of the car, doing her best to shove her uncooperative, swollen breasts back into a bra that still felt too small. She buttoned up her white shirt, ignoring the huge gaps between buttons her swollen chest caused.

She was just working on the last stubborn button when she heard a familiar voice.

"Jesus, Kate..."

She looked up to see her coworker Todd standing a foot from her, slack-jawed. Unsurprisingly, his gaze was transfixed to her huge cleavage.

Her face flushed, and in her embarrassment, the button popped completely off her shirt. "H-Hi..."

It took Todd a while to respond.

"You umm... damn... those are..." He picked his lips, keeping his gaze transfixed upon her breasts.

"I know. Pregnancy really changes your whole body..." Though it was true for a lot of women, the same couldn't be said about Kate. Her body had pretty much gone exactly back to the way it was, save for now basically being a milk factory.

Finally, Todd looked away, if only to adjust himself so that his erection wasn't as obvious. "Breastfeeding twins I guess, right?"

"Quadruplets."

"Jesus Christ..." he breathed. A red hue crept across his face, and he had to adjust himself again. "I mean, you already had huge tits. Now, you're like..." He snuck a look down at them again. "What, a J cup?"

If only.

"An M..."

He smirked and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing. "M for Mega Mommy Milkers I guess... come on, let's go. We'll be late."

---

Kate stood before everyone in the lunch room, her face ablaze. Her coworkers were all men, and every single one of their gazes was trained on her engorged breasts.

The only person who didn't make her feel uncomfortable was her boss, Nolan. Tall and quiet, it would have been easy to mistake him for shy or weak willed. But he ran the company like a tight ship.

"Please make Kate feel welcome back after her maternity leave." He smiled out at his workers. "And if anyone should need a refresher on our sexual harassment policy, I would be glad to assist."

Kate heaved a sigh of relief. He had always been a good boss, looking our for people, and now--

A button from her blouse shot from her shirt, shooting across the room. Another followed, and another as her breasts tried to burst from her top.

She scrunched her eyes shut, partially in pain from engorgement and partially because she didn't want to look at the drooling men in front of her anymore.

'I'm so fucking full of milk... I really need to pump...' she anguished in her head. Though she could feel her nipples ache for release, her break was so far away. Even if it wasn't, she had already used up all her empty bottles; where would she put all of it?

"Kate, why don't you come to my office for some privacy so you can pump?"

Nolan's deep timber was polite as always; he was such a sweet angel. Grabbing her bag with the pumps in it, she made her way from the lunch room to her boss's office. Her breasts swayed and sloshed this way and that with every step she took, milk dampening her teats.

"I'm so sorry," she confessed, sitting down on the couch in his office.

Without the buttons on her shirt, she knew he could see the blue veins on her massive mammaries that indicated how full she was. Even more so, she realized her bra barely fit anymore; more than half her areolas poked out from behind the bra's desperate attempt at coverage.

"It's fine. You're a new mother, it happens."

She beamed back at him. How lucky she was to have such an understanding boss. "Thank you..."

"I noticed you didn't bring any bottles in though." He ducked into the small closet deside the water cooler.

"Y-Yeah, I sort of... used them all up already..."

He emerged from the closet with two empty 5 gallon jugs normally used for water coolers. "Will these do? Ordinarily I would say they'd be overkill, but you do nurse quadruplets... You must produce an incredible amount of milk."

Kate was too grateful and relieved to pay much mind to the embarrassment. She took the giant jugs from him and placed them on each side of her on the couch as Nolan sat down at his desk.

But rather than stare at her expanding and near-bursting mammaries, he looked down at his laptop and worked.

He didn't even glance over when she hoisted her one breast out of the bra to hook the pump on. Soon, the room filled with the relaxing hums of the pumps working on overtime. Her milk drained into the water jugs as she leaned back on the couch and watched her broad shouldered boss work.

He was so calm, and made her feel so comfortable...

'I want him to put his babies in me.'

Her clit throbbed at the idea she never knew she could concoct. But as she continued watching him, the ache of her breasts slowly subsided.

Finally, after two hours, she felt something she'd never experienced before. She pulled the pump away, and her teat didn't even drip.

She was actually empty!

Cleaning her supplies up, she eyed the 5 gallon jugs that were both nearly filled to the brim. "I guess all that milk was really in me..."

Nolan looked up, and flashed her a smile that made her weak. "It's definitely a lot. Do you need to keep it for your babies?"

"N-No..." Despite the major pump session, she knew she would be full by the time she got home. "Do you want me to dump it, or--"

Nolan got to his feet and placed a cap on one of the jugs. Removing the old one from the water cooler, he placed the uncapped one in its place. The machine made air bubbles pop to the surface of the milk as it seaped downward. With a flick of his finger on the trigger, Nolan filled a paper cup up with milk.

He raised it to her, smiling. "Cheers."

---

🐮❤️

#breast expansion #lactation kink tw #tw lactation kink #massive breasts #smut #huge natural melons #huge cleavage #mommy milkers #writing #big tiddy committee

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hyeque · 2 years

Text

warnings: voyeurism, minor slapping, dirty talk, female!reader, noncon (reader is viewed without their consent), a special guest joins at the end…

note: repost because it would not show up in tags

thigh riding with kuroo. he doesn’t let you ride his dick, first you have to prove yourself to him! he’s not completely mean though, so he lets you get off on his thigh. the friction of his thick, muscular legs is so good against your cunt and even better when he lets you get off on the pants of his suit.

“making such a mess right now, pretty girl. got my pants soaked with your cunt. i haven’t even touched you yet.” kuroo coos, watching you grind yourself helplessly on his leg. the man had been busy working all day, barely sparing you any attention. he told you that he’d be done soon, but that was two hours ago.

you face resides in the crook on his neck, hands gripping tightly on the lapel of his suit jacket as you whine pleas into his skin. the smell of his expensive cologne only turns you on more.

he slaps your thigh with disapproval. “you know better than that baby, use your words.” he scolds, “tell me how good my thigh is making you feel.”

you huff, hands moving up to grip on his hair. he hisses, kissing his teeth at the sensitive tension.

the euphoria of his touch doesn’t stop your confession from coming out. “feel so good, tetsu. always makes me feel good. any part of you.”

“yeah?” he breathes, feeling his cock throb hard in his slacks. he tilts your head to the side before his teeth gently nip at your skin. “you’re gonna cum on my thigh? you want my cock that badly?”

you nod furiously, tears stinging your eyes and you sniffle as you feel your high approaching. everything about kuroo is driving you crazy right now. the timber of his deep voice, the sight of his wedding band, letting everyone know he’s married to you. that he is yours. even just the mere presence of the handsome man is enough to set you off.

“then cum.” he says pointedly. he watches with awe as you do so on command. pussy throbbing so hard he feels it pulsing on his thigh.

“shit…” he swears, watching your eyes roll back as you moan his name. if he isn’t so determined to get inside you, he might just cum at the sight.

when kuroo finally rewards you with his dick he hisses when he feels you sink down on him. always a tight fit each time no matter how much he fucks your.

he grins as you bounce on him, knowing full well that anyone could see the show you were putting on for him since his blinds aren’t closed. your legs are shaky after coming down from your first high and you try to continue riding him but start losing your pace and stamina from exhaustion and after shock.

“thought you deserved it but now you’re just disappointing me.” kuroo sighs, feigning disappointment. like he isn’t trying to fuck you dumb.

“n-not true! i—ahh!” the words are lost on your tongue as kuroo grabs your hips, grip tightened on them as he begins to fuck up into your cunt.

“why don’t you just sit pretty and take it baby,” he grunts, “want to hear those gorgeous noises from your mouth when you’re stuffed full of me.”

you comply easily, crying and sobbing ‘tetsu’ repeatedly. sloppy, wet noises fill the room as his fat balls meet the curvature of your ass.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum. where do you want it? inside?” he groans, feeling you practically suck him inside more with each thrust.

you nod furiously, legs tightening around him. kuroo ever the gentleman he is plays with your clit and brings you to another orgasm first. the vice like grip of you milking him triggers his own orgasm, and he’s quickly filling you up to the brim.

the two of you stay holding each other for a moment and kuroo plants kisses down the side of your neck.

“hope he enjoyed the show.” he sighs, pushing back his sweaty fringe.

curious, you turn around and your eyes widen when they meet the cat like eyes of your boyfriends best friend.

tent shamelessly displayed in his pants.

“don’t think i saw it quite well enough.” the blonde answers, his predatory eyes glancing at you. you suddenly feel small under his gaze.

“oya?” kuroo only turns to face his best friend, your cunt spread open. you feel his cock twitch back to life inside of you.

“come on baby, show him how good you look taking my cock. you can do that for me, yeah? always take it so well and look so pretty. you can take more, can’t you? that’s why you’re my good girl.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #kuroo tetsurō smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyu headcanons #haikyu drabble #kuroo drabble #kuroo tetsurou drabble

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

Hi bug, could I request some teasing modern office stevie when he definitely should be concentrating on some important reports and not the pictures you’re sending him from the bathroom 💖

ty for requesting :D — steve is grumpy at the office halloween party until you spend him naughty pictures from the bathroom (modern!au, established relationship, smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The company-wide Halloween party was a total bust.

Steve’s Top Gun leather jacket was cool and all, but now — eight hours into his shift — it feels slightly suffocating. It’s heavy and making him almost unbearably hot, but he can’t take it off, or his dad will lose his shit.

Everyone had to dress up. That was the memo. It’s to boost company morale or whatever bullshit they’re spinning these days. Even the stuffy guys on the fiftieth floor are wearing their own fancy, half-assed costumes.

Steve wasn’t much of a fan of the whole thing, especially not after he offered to match with you and you completely shut him down. “My dad already knows about us, babe!” he whined. “It’s not a big deal!”

You shot him your hardened, badass businesswoman stare that always seems to stop him in his tracks. “Your dad knowing isn’t even the half of it, Steve. I don’t want us to be the headline for office gossip for the next six months, alright?”

Going into his nine-to-five the day before Halloween, the only thing he was remotely excited about was seeing your costume. You rock a pencil skirt and blouse like you were made to do it, but fuck, he loves seeing you out of your work clothes.

And you were really fucking cute — Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction, in one of his white button-ups, black slacks, and high heels. It isn’t overtly sexy, because it is an office party after all, but he’d stare at you all day if he could.

Screw the work, he wants to lay on the couch in your office and watch you in your element with his hand shoved down his pants.

His phone buzzes sharply beside him, knocking him out of his daydream. It’s a text notification from you — one image attachment, it reads. He’s already smiling like a teenage boy now that you’re talking to him. He’s been lonely all day without you.

He taps the message with his thumb to open the text thread, even happier to find that it’s a picture of you.

You look like you’re in a bathroom stall — for privacy maybe, because you’re flashing him your lacy lingerie. Your blouse is unbuttoned at the top to reveal your black bra that’s mostly see-through. It’s a cup size or more too small for you, so the tops of your breasts spill slightly from the fabric.

Don’t do this to me, he replies.

Do what? you ask.

Another picture comes right after. It’s from a higher-up angle, a much better view of your cleavage. You’re staring up at the camera with doe eyes that drive him crazy.

Steve shifts in his swivel chair, spine-tingling distantly with the subtle stiffening of his cock. He looks over both shoulders, just to make sure no one’s around to see the filth on his phone, then texts you back.

You know what, he types. Don’t start something you can’t finish.

You send him a third picture, smiling all innocent at the camera. Captioned beneath it reads, I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry about finishing, Stevie.

Steve doesn’t bother replying this time. He clicks his phone off and readjusts his pants, rising from his desk and heading straight for the elevator.

—————

Standing at the row of pristine sinks, you wait for Steve’s response.

You knew he wasn’t having the greatest day. His dad’s been on his ass more than usual and you’re not the best at comforting him when you’re in work mode. So you step out of your comfort zone in attempts to cheer up your boyfriend, actively trying to be sexy.

But then he just leaves you on read, and now you’re spiraling in the women’s restroom.

What if he didn’t like it? your brain berates you. What if he thinks you’re trying too hard? What if he’s turned off by you?

You don’t get the chance to get embarrassed about it because Steve’s busting through the bathroom door a second later. You’re scared by the sudden intrusion, then halfway relieved, then utterly shocked.

“Steve— what are you doing in here? This is the women’s restroom!”

“Obviously,” the boy scoffs and locks the door behind him.

Your eyes are wide and wild when he turns back to face you. “What the hell are you doing?” you repeat, teeth gritted as you try your best to whisper.

His eyes sparkle with something honeyed and mischievous. He shrugs all boyish and corners you against the marble countertop. “Told you not to start something you couldn’t finish, remember?”

His palms spread wide and warm on your waist as he leans down to kiss you. You’re almost lost in him enough to let him. The logical part of your brain blares an alarm in your subconcious, and you hold him back before he can inch any further.

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this,” you announce with a shake of your head, to yourself more than anything.

Steve’s brows pinch. “Why not?”

You blink up at him for a moment, bemused by his confusion because the answer’s pretty obvious. “‘Cause we’re at work, Steven. That’s why.”

He always melts for you when you call him that.

“You’re hot when you’re mean, you know that?” he murmurs with a lopsided grin.

He ducks down again, and you think he’s gonna kiss you. You’re about to fight him until his plush lips lock on your pulse point. You cave before you mean to, turning to marshmallow fluff in his hands.

Steve maneuvers you onto the counter with a pair of strong hands. When he plants himself between your legs, his hard cock brushes your inner thigh. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

With a tongue tasting of nicotine and the chocolate-covered pretzels you made for the Halloween party, Steve kisses the air from your lungs. You’re happy without it. As long as it means he’ll keep touching you like he is now.

His fingers fuss with the buttons of your shirt. He tries to kiss you and unclasp them at the same time, but realizes it’s halfway impossible. You feel each one pop pop pop when he all but rips at your collar.

“Hey— be gentle,” you scold, slurring slightly when you part from him. “I gotta work after this, you know?”

“Yeah, if I don’t take you home first.” His words are mumbled and nearly inaudible. You barely catch the last half of them because he’s burying his face in your chest.

It’s nothing you’re not used to — he often jokes that your tits are his two favorite girls, a close second to you.

You weave your hands through his chopped cinnamon hair, keeping him pressed against you while he kisses and sucks at your breasts — over the sheer fabric of the lingerie you chose specifically for him. His tongue runs warm and wet over your clothed nipple. You fight back a shiver.

Drunk on him and his tender touches, you let him open you up with his fingers without any fuss. You let him push you to the brink of a spine-tingling orgasm and back again — only fussing a little about his teasing until he slips his cock into you.

Steve doesn’t mean to fuck you so gently in the work bathroom, but it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

Even during quickies, he’s all but making love to you. He holds your lolling head in both his calloused palms, making sure your eyes stay on his while he punches into you. You’re pretty good at keeping your moans at bay, aside from a few measly whines he swallows when he kisses you.

You compensate for your withheld noises by digging your nails into his shoulders. You’re pretty sure there’ll be crescent shapes in the leather of his jacket when he’s done with you.

The bathroom fills with the sounds of heavy pants, concealed moans, and the jingling of Steve’s belt buckle. He babbles sweet nothings into your neck, words slurred and muffled there. You’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying.

“It’s so good. You’re so fucking good— fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, chopped through thrusts and heavy breaths. “Can’t fucking wait to show you off, you know that? Wanna tell everyone you’re mine.”

“I am yours,” you tell him, breathless and with a whimper trapped in your throat. His cock pierces you mercilessly. The pressure on your clit is relentless. “Always been yours.”

And if he wasn’t about to burst already — you tell him this, and he’s a fucking goner. His hips stutter almost instantly. His whine swells in the bathroom, mostly muffled into your neck. He spits several loads of warm cum into you and sends you absolutely gushing.

And like the gentlemen he is, he fucks you stupid and cleans you up right after.

He chucks the wet paper towel in the bin and asks you, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you repeat, legs still hanging over the counter, tingling with numbness.

“When you— you know, when you said you were mine?”

You shrug with an air of absentmindedness. “Of course.”

“I just… We never made anything official, and I didn’t know if… I don’t know— if you were seeing someone else or whatever.”

“Your dad knows we’re fucking, so I think we’re pretty much official now,” you tease, giggling and sliding your panties back into place. You hop off the counter to put your slacks back on. Steve fusses with his belt.

“Guess so,” he laughs back.

“And I don’t plan on seeing anyone else for the foreseeable future,” you confess, smiling shyly and tilting your head to your shoulder. “Just so you know.”

Steve’s suddenly smiling, crooked and boyish and pink. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t either.”

“Good,” you hum with a similar grin.

“Good.”

He kisses you again — ‘cause he can do that now, considering you’re finally official and everything. It’s a too sweet peck compared to how sinfully he was fucking you just minutes ago.

He pulls back from you with furrowed brows. “Does that mean we can tell people about—”

“Absolutely not, Steve Harrington.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

Text

Somnophilia | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 - 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Kinktober masterlist.

I just noticed I did somno with Kirishima last year too LOL. I’m too predictable🥲

Summary: Kirishima promised you a night full of fun after he accepts an award at the annual hero gala. Unfortunately his friends introduce him to the free bar before you can get him back to your hotel room and things don’t quite go to plan.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, somnophilia, dubcon to be safe (Kirishima is drunk but even though consent isn’t explicitly stated its apparent), intoxication, dry humping, blowjob, creampie, again no proofread sorry!

Word Count: 2.4k.

“Eijirou,” You whined as you watched your boyfriend's eyes begin to flutter.

All evening the hulking Pro-Hero had been whispering promises into your ear about what he would do to you once you both got back to the hotel, in this very bed. The gala you’d both attended was out of town and it gave you the illusion of being on vacation with the number 8 Hero, a luxury neither of you had been able to indulge in for the last few months as work had been hectic. His PR team had him taking any and every interview or public display to try and push him up the rankings, meaning he'd been spending far less time with you at home. It didn’t matter that Kirishima was more than happy to be inside the top 10, it was a constant drive from them that had him coming home exhausted. Barely enough time to kiss you and reheat the dinner you’d cooked for him before he was collapsing into bed.

So this? This was a dream. Watching your boyfriend button his tight dress shirt through the vanity mirror as you applied your lipstick you were more than excited about how the evening would end.

His large palms gripping your waist as you bent over to slide on your heels, pressing his chub into the curve of your ass so you could feel exactly what you were doing to him as you gave him a small smile, the heels giving you a new height advantage as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Later,” You laughed, “Or we’ll miss the whole gala.”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” His fingers were already toying with the zip at the back of your dress, ruby eyes filled with lust as he kept you tight against his body, “It’s been ages.”

“Oh, my vibrator and I know.” You gave him a pointed look as you reached a hand up to wipe some of the lipstick transfer off from his lips.

“Don’t put that image in my head,” He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he throbbed beneath his slacks, “‘m gonna have to spend this entire thing hard as a rock.”

“Well, that is pretty much your quirk.” You teased back, sneaking your hand around his body to shamelessly grope his ass, “We’ll show our faces and leave once the awards have been handed out, yeah?”

Kirishima nodded eagerly as he took your hand in his, pressing a temperate kiss to the top of it as he smiled down at you.

“You ready?” He mumbled softly.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You smiled, squeezing his hand as he began to lead you from the hotel room towards the car waiting downstairs.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands off you all night, you look gorgeous.” He groaned as he watched your ass sway in the dress you were wearing.

But of course, that was hours ago.

“Eijirou, you promised.” You’d both managed to make it down to your underwear before your boyfriend had succumbed to slumber, your lipstick smeared across his face from the intense make-out session that he’d been engaged in seconds earlier. His soft snores were the only sound filling the room as you tried to stir him.

His hard cock bulged against his underwear, a large dark stain soaking the fabric to show how needy he’d been for you all evening. You splayed your hands against his chest as you rocked your hips against him, gasping softly as you gave your clit some much-needed friction.

You knew that once Kirishima received his award that he wouldn’t be coming home sober. He’d been so careful not to drink too much all evening, waving off the people handing out the champagne with a sweet smile as he sipped his glass of water. His hand squeezed your hip all evening as he whispered promises of exactly what he was going to do to you once you got back to the room. His words had a warm fire burning in your belly the entire evening, squeezing your thighs together to try and give yourself some sweet relief as you chatted animatedly to your friends.

But the moment he walked off the stage with the extravagant trophy and Cellophane and Chargebolt offered him a glass of champagne you knew that this wouldn’t bode well. After all the awards were given out you found your boyfriend propped against the free bar, empty shot glasses surrounding him and his friends as you tried to coax him back to the hotel. Giving him your best fluttering lashes as he shamelessly grabbed your ass, exclaiming to his friends that he had to leave now.

“I’m going to have sex with my beautiful girlfriend!” He held his trophy with one hand and slumped some of his weight against you as he slung his other arm over your shoulders. The admission was met with whoops and hollers from his friends as you led him from the building, trying not to buckle beneath him as you staggered in your heels.

“Ugh, fuck Kaminari and Sero.” You groaned, your nipples pebbling under the cool air conditioning in the plush hotel room as you watched your boyfriend's chest gently rise and fall. It was difficult not to admit he looked peaceful and serene, his lips parted gently as his lashes tickled his cheeks. But you were uncaring if he woke up, in fact, you wished he would. Hitting his chest to try and rouse him to no avail, the hulking man near comatose as you continued to shamelessly roll your hips above him. You were horny and desperate for him, and it was all his fault. You'd been anticipating this moment all evening so your panties were soaked through and stuck to your skin, leaving another dark stain against Kirishima’s underwear to mix with the one he’d left.

“Eij-” You cooed, grinding yourself against his crotch as you focused on your clit. Sending jolts of pleasure throughout your abdomen as you let out a soft whine, “Baby, please.”

You slapped one of his pecs to try and rouse him, knowing it was futile. Your boyfriend slept like a rock sober, so there was no way that you’d be able to wake him drunk. You’d spent so much time trapped beneath his heavy frame when he’d fallen asleep on top of you, pouty and desperate to pee whenever he’d wake up with a bashful grin on his face.

You moved to slip your fingers beneath the hem of his boxers, brushing through the messy black trail of hair that disappeared beneath the fabric. You watched the way his chest concaved as though he was fully awake and present, feeling every slight touch as you moved lower. Pulling the material down to free his thick cock, the heavy weight of it lay flat against the meat of his thigh as you licked your lips at the sight. A thick bead of pre dribbled from the tip and trickled down onto his leg, leaving silvery lines against his skin as the angry bulging veins made him appear even bigger than usual. It was clear he was just as pent up as you were, his balls heavy with his seed as you wrapped your fingers around his girth. Your clit throbbed at the sight as you shimmied down his thighs, legs spread wide on either side of them as you leaned down to swipe your tongue against his leaking slit.

A soft groan left Kirishima’s lips and you had to look up to see whether he was still asleep because his entire body shifted. Smirking as you repeated the motion, tasting him on the flat of your tongue as you took his tip inside your mouth.

You set a languid pace as your tongue stroked along one of the prominent veins forking along the underside of his cock, bobbing your head as the tip hit the back of your throat. Your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t fit inside your mouth, drool spilling out of your throat as it dribbled down his length. You were tempted to grab your cell phone to record what you were doing so Kirishima could see exactly what he missed out on when he woke up, but you were so pent up you didn’t want to move. Desperate to get yourself off with your boyfriend's cock for once instead of using your fingers and the toys he’d purchased for you.

You pulled back from his cock with a ‘pop’ as you slid your fingers between your thighs, pulling your panties to the side to glide your fingers through your messy folds. Kirishima would always spend a great deal of time prepping you for his cock, whispering to you sweetly that he didn’t want to hurt you and that he could split you in two. But this time you wanted to feel the ache of him sliding inside your wet heat, it had been far too long and you knew you were wet enough. Shimmying your hips up you held the girth of his cock steady as you felt the tip of him nudge your clit. Letting out a shameless moan as you repeated the motion, before leaning forward. The engorged head now pressed against your tight entrance, coated in your essence as you began to sink down onto him. Feeling the familiar burn of the stretch as you took more of him inside your wet heat.

“Fuck, Eij-” You whined, throwing your head back in pleasure as your walls throbbed around him, bouncing softly on top of him to try and stretch yourself out to take more of him inside you. Your lips parted in a constant moan as you felt him brushing against every inch of you perfectly, “Feels so good.”

There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of your boyfriend buried deep inside you, no toys or your hands could ever match the feeling of him balls deep. Your hands splayed against his chest to steady yourself as your walls throbbed around his cock, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his size before you set a steady pace.

The alcohol in your system made it difficult to lift yourself up off his length as you rolled your hips against him, grinding down on his lap as the messy hairs at the base of his cock gave your clit some delicious friction. Biting down on your bottom lip as you used Kirishima for your own pleasure, your tits bouncing with each roll of your hips as you looked down at your sleeping boyfriend's face. Wishing that he was awake and staring up at you with absolute adoration as he lifted you up and down on his lap like he usually would. A sheer display of his strength as you leaned forward. Pressing your chest against his as you buried your face in his neck, breathing in his scent as you continued your messy pace.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled, shamelessly focusing your movements against your puffy clit as your walls throbbed around his thick cock. Biting down on Kirishima’s pulse point as you salved your tongue against it, feeling yourself dancing on the cusp of your climax.

“Eijirou,” You gasped, feeling yourself succumb to pleasure as you came undone. Your walls clamped down around his length as you began to shake above him, your breath fanning against his skin as you continued to messily rut your hips against him, riding out your orgasm.

Kirishima was still painfully hard inside you as you came down from your high, feeling lethargic as you were beginning to let the call of slumber take over. Settling yourself on Kirishima’s chest as the steady rise and fall of his breathing coaxed you to sleep.

But you felt his large palms reach up to grip your ass, squeezing softly as he groaned softly beneath you, catching you by surprise.

“What’s all this?” He mumbled, squeezing softly, “You little minx.”

“You fell asleep,” You whispered, already feeling the call of sleep taking over, “Not my fault.”

“Mmm,” He grumbled, one of his hands moving lower to feel the bottom of his cock slick with your release as it disappeared inside your tight cunt, fingers pressing against where your bodies were connected as you exhaled softly, “‘m sorry I fell asleep, baby.”

You gasped as he shifted his hips beneath you, still painfully hard buried inside your warmth. His hands were set on your ass as his fingertips dug into the plush skin, moving you on top of him with ease as he gave a few cants of his hips. Feeling your walls clamping down around him in the aftershocks of your climax as he buried himself deep inside your wet, warm cunt.

“I missed this,” He grumbled, his grip tightening as he bounced you on his cock, “I don’t think I can last-”

“It’s been too long,” You whined, unbothered you’d left a mess of lipstick against the column of his neck as he continued his pace.

“I know, baby. I know,” He cooed gently, “Gonna make it up to you, I promise.”

You could already feel another climax approaching, your toes curling as you felt the pleasure brewing in your abdomen. The coil inside you was desperately close to snapping as Kirishima did all the work, lifting you up and down on his cock as he felt you begin to clamp down around his cock.

“Come on, princess. Cum for me, please?” He asked so sweetly it had your body quivering as you let yourself go, squeezing his cock as you came undone with a cry of his name. Your thighs shook from the intensity of your climax as Kirishima gave a few more messy ruts of his hips, cumming inside you with a grunt as he painted your walls white with his seed.

“Holy shit,” He groaned, wrapping his arms tight around your waist to stop you from sliding off him as he kept his softening cock buried deep inside you, leaving you plugged with his release.

You could both already feel the call of slumber lulling you both back to sleep as his breathing began to shallow.

“Eijirou, I gotta take my makeup off and clean up.” You whined, knowing that the moment you’d shift positions in your sleep that the mixture of your combined release would end up all over the sheets. Your lipstick and foundation were already a mess against his pillowcase, as you tried to shift out of his grip.

“Later, baby. Later.” He mumbled incoherently, “Sleep first-”

And you knew there was no way you could get out of your tired boyfriend's grip as you settled against his chest, allowing the soft rumble of his snoring to lull you to sleep.

#Kirishima x reader #Kirishima smut #Kirishima Eijirou x reader #Kirishima Eijirou smut #Bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #Bnha smut #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #flashing lights

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atinylittlepain · 7 months

Text

I Wanna Marry You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!OC

Hungry Hearts masterlist

he has a black velvet box waiting in his sock drawer. what will her answer be?

wordcount | 5K

warnings | this bad boy has it all. a little smut, a little angst, a whole lot of fluff

a/n | the jerry proposal and wedding event of the century. i had a lot of fun with this and would love to hear what y'all think <3

................................

Here’s the thing, Joel Miller is not slick. At all. And Cherry is pretty sure she knows what he’s up to.

For starters, she keeps finding him in their bedroom, his arm stuck way back into his sock drawer, though he never fails to whip around and slam it shut when she catches him, face flushed down and palming the back of his neck, a pantomime of casual guilt. He has also started making frequent trips out onto the back porch in the evening, leaving her on the couch while he takes a call.

No, Joel Miller is not slick at all. She bets it’s Tommy’s fault, never far from a carton himself, though he knows better now than to smoke in her house, one too many swats upside the head. But he’s usually got a cigarette between his teeth when he and Joel drive together to work, so she doesn’t have to look far to figure out where Joel has picked it up again.

It isn’t exactly that she minds him smoking. Hell, everyone did it in the eighties, and she even picked it up for a while back in the mid-nineties in the whole artsy-fartsy writing scene. What’s bothering her is that he’s making such a big deal of hiding it from her. Sure, keep it away from the girls, but why all the bullshit with her?

But she’s been waiting for him to bring it to her, something about healthy relationships and building trust and all that good stuff that she heard on some radio show, listened to while she was supposed to be doing edits for her newest project. She hasn’t snooped, she hasn’t pried, even as whatever this is continues to grate on her nerves. Supposed calls being taken, and Joel spending a bit too much time with his hand in his sock drawer.

Here’s the thing, Cherry isn’t very good at waiting. A moment of weakness, what she should be doing is going over the new round of edits she was just sent. What she finds herself doing instead is wandering upstairs into their bedroom. Everyone else out of the house, the girls at school and Joel at work for another half hour, so it’s perfectly quiet when she opens up his sock drawer and starts rifling through it.

She would have preferred to find a carton of cigarettes. Definitely not a necklace, nor a bracelet, and she’s pretty sure it’s not earrings either. No, the black velvet box is the wrong shape for any of those pieces of jewelry. She doesn’t open the box though, doesn’t really have time to when she suddenly hears the garage door opening, followed by what could only be the sound of Joel’s boots shuffling around in the kitchen.

“Cher?” She moves before she can think, something nervous swirling up in her stomach, that damn velvet box still clutched in her hand as she makes her way downstairs. Joel stops himself mid sentence, something about needing to go to the grocery that gets cut off when he catches her pinched expression.

“What happened? What’s the matter?” Anger feels good at least, so she scoffs, setting the ring box down on the kitchen counter between them. Joel’s face goes perfectly slack.

“You tell me. What the hell is this?”

“That’s– you– what’re you doing snooping like that? Jesus christ.” Good, she thinks, let him get angry too. It’ll give her something to bite back at, glaring at each other from across the counter, Joel running a frustrated palm down his face.

“Snooping? Oh please, it was kinda hard not to notice your newfound obsession with the back of your fucking sock drawer. I’m telling you right now, Joel Miller, if this is what I think it is, you’ll return it if you know what’s good for you.”

“Oh come on, Cher, just–”

“No.”

“Let’s just–”

“No, Joel. We’ve talked about this. You know that isn’t something I want.” She sees the sharp wince in his expression, but it’s not enough for her to back down, not when it comes to this. They have talked about this. A few times now. And normally, Joel is on her side, neither of them caring much about a ceremony or the titles that would come with it. Hell would have to freeze over before she took someone else’s name, not when she has built so much out of and on her own.

“I just– it’s paperwork. That’s all it is, and a ring. You and I don’t need that, baby. It’s, we’re past that.” She knows what she’s doing with that soft baby she slips into her words, and for a beat, it seems to melt Joel just the way she wants it to, his eyes rounding a little, grimace softening around the edges. But then he huffs, a harsh drag of his fingers through his hair as he shakes his head at her.

“What about what I want, huh? Is it such a goddamn crime for me to want this? To want something a little more– a little more official? Fuck, Cherry, this isn’t– this is not how I wanted this to go.” Damn him, damn him for the way his words crack, tired and utterly disappointed at the end, a long sigh that slumps his shoulders. Damn him, she can never stay mad at him. Damn him, because she would like to give him whatever he wants, but this is not that easy. Silence falls between them, Joel resting both his palms on the counter, his head hanging down between his shoulders. Careful and quiet, she rounds the counter, one palm to his shoulder, and one covering his hand.

“You deserve to have what you want, you do. But marriage is not– it’s not something– what we have is good, and I don’t want this– this thing to change it.” The truth of it. To her, marriage is cage. Marriage is silent houses, scraping forks at dinner. Marriage is violence. And she thinks that Joel understands that, his palm shuffling to rest over hers, thumb stroking along the side of her hand.

“I don’t want it to be like that, Cher. Like you said, s’just paperwork. We can make it whatever we want it to be. Hell, we can just chalk it up to the tax breaks if we want.” It’s enough to coax a laugh up from her chest, her smile slipping to the side as she rests her cheek against his bicep, anger long forgotten for whatever this is. Something sweet, at least.

“Can I ask why it’s so important to you? Because if it’s just Deedee breathing down your neck I can handle–” He cuts her off with a laugh of his own, a small shuffle for him to lean back against the counter, her stepping between his legs and letting her hands settle along his waist, dipping her head down when his chin drops in something a bit bashful.

“No, it’s not her, though she probably wouldn’t be upset at the prospect. But it is something I want, and– it’s stupid really.” She coaxes him with a quiet no, tell me, baby, squeezing at the soft part of his waist, making him huff again, and maybe flush a little. She loves getting him like this, a little mushy gushy where he’s usually such a hardass. God forbid Joel Miller have feelings, and God forbid he get embarrassed by having said feelings.

“Certainty, you know? That’s what marriage means to me. My folks– they’ve been married for fifty-something years now. And it’s a very real thing to them, that commitment. I just– I’d like that– with you.” And damn him again, for looking at her like that, brow all pinched up, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he finishes talking. She gets it now. Where she sees capture, captive, Joel sees comfort, reassurance that yes, this is real. Yes, staying. Got the ring and the paperwork to prove it. Maybe it could be that for her too. Maybe he could show her how.

Her answer doesn’t come in words, not at first, easy to lean forward and press her lips to his, once, twice, feeling the small curl of his smile the second time, hers matching his, fitting with his.

“So, you said something about tax breaks?” Enough to smooth out the scrunch of uncertainty in his expression, that smile threatening at the corners of his mouth while her palms smooth and shift to splay over his chest.

“That a yes?”

“Show me the ring, Miller.” He doesn’t turn around, just fumbles blindly behind himself until he snatches up the box. Of course, it’s perfect. A little unconventional, simple silver band with an opal set in it. Yes feels a little easier just looking at it.

“I’m not wearing white, for the record.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Cher.” Before he can lean in for another kiss, she remembers that initial curl of anger, pressing against his chest to hold him at bay.

“Wait, so you’re not smoking again?”

“What? Why the hell would you think that?”

“I mean, that’s what I assumed was going on with the sock drawer and all the evening calls you were taking on the porch.” While she’s dead serious, Joel just seems entirely amused by the whole thing, letting out a laugh and squeezing at her hips even as she huffs at him.

“That’s not– those were phone calls, with Tommy. I was– well, I was planning something for you.” Damn him, Joel Miller was planning a proposal, and now she looks like a total jackass for ruining it.

“Oh, oh. What were you planning?”

“If you weren’t so goddamned nosy maybe you would’ve gotten to find out, Cherry baby.”

“Hey, watch it. The ring isn’t on my finger yet.” Of course Joel takes that as a challenge, one she doesn’t really care to fight against, letting him pull her closer into his chest while he fumbles with her left hand, a small, petulant grumble when it takes him a few tries to slide the ring onto her finger. When he does succeed, she indulges him with a waggle of her fingers, watching the gem glint, all light and color.

“What do you think?”

“You did good, Miller.”

“The girls helped pick it out.”

“You’re telling me Sarah and Ellie both knew about this? And that Ellie voluntarily looked at jewelry?” Clearly pleased with himself, he hums a yes, so smug she would smack him if it wasn’t a sweet thought. Her girl helping him pick something out for her mom.

“Just to clarify, this does count as a yes, right?”

“I suppose so.” She says it with a sigh, playing at resignation that he jostles out of her, another kiss that’s more answer than anything else.

…

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, putting on my suit jacket.”

“If you think you’re wearing jeans to the goddamn ceremony you’re sorely mistaken.”

“It’s Texas, Joel. You can wear jeans to a wedding.”

“Not to mine you can’t. Does Maria know about your little outfit? Because I reckon she’s not gonna be too pleased with it either.” Tommy’s face falls at that, hands pausing in his adjustment of his cufflinks.

“Shit, you think I got time to run back to my place?”

“You’ll have to meet us there, but I ain’t letting you in the chapel like that either.” Tommy is already shuffling down the hall, though Joel chooses to ignore what he thinks is a grumbled fucking diva that comes from his brother’s mouth. More important things to be thinking about anyways, like the faint sound of Cherry and the girls getting ready down the hall.

Sarah and Ellie had been adamant about this separation, starting last night when they stepped in front of the couch where he and Cherry were sitting. Their girls, with all the solemnity of CIA agents, informing them that the next time Joel would see his woman would be at the altar, no time for him to protest when they were already all but dragging her away from him. Sure, she was just down the hall in the guestroom, but he wasn’t about to rail against their girls’ orders, unsure whose wrath he was more afraid of, Sarah’s or Ellie’s, or the combined, nuclear explosion of the two.

His eyes flick over to the clock on the nightstand, a muttered curse when he realizes they should have left five minutes ago. The plan, him and Sarah, his best maid of honor as she had named herself, in the truck, and Cherry and Ellie, her best maid of honor as dubbed by Sarah, in the minivan. No seeing each other until the altar, right.

“Sarah, you ready to go? We’re already–” He doesn’t get the rest out, stumbling back in the hall when someone clamps their palms over his eyes.

“Don’t look, old man, Jesus. We were just leaving.” He huffs at Ellie’s snappy command, a light tug to her wrists, though her hands don’t budge, clammy over the tops of his cheeks where they’re covering his eyes.

“Kid, my eyes are closed. Lay off, huh?” Albeit reluctantly, Ellie takes her hands away, a seemingly satisfied hum when she sees that his eyes are in fact closed.

“I’ll give you the all clear when we’re down the stairs, alright? But until then, keep ‘em shut.” Lord help him.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, boss.” Not sure what else to do, he rests his hands on his hips, eyes still scrunched shut as he hears what he thinks is the sound of Ellie and Sarah both bounding down the steps, but his whole spine shivers when he feels a hand slip along his jaw, nails lightly scratching at his scruff.

“Look at you, baby. Always clean up so nice.” He could open his eyes, but now it feels like a game with the way her words graze right over his mouth, and he’s not about to lose.

“How come you get to look?” A bright peel of laughter, her other palm slipping up along his chest. He can picture that grin of hers in his mind.

“Because I’m the bride, Joel. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He has to laugh, his hands reaching blindly, slipping against silk that makes a hum settle in his chest. His eyes threaten to open on impulse to see, though he manages to keep them scrunched shut.

“You still wanna do this, right? It’s– this is still good?” He knows it’s a stupid question, a small part of him still worried that somehow, there will be a catch to all of this. But Cherry doesn’t even indulge his ask with words, a pfft in the back of her throat before she leans in a little closer, guiding his lips to hers in a sweet, simple kiss.

“I’ll see you at the altar, handsome.”

…

“Dad, don’t cry. We haven’t even gotten to the church yet.” He sniffs hard, knuckles swiping under his nose as his other hand holds the passenger side door open for Sarah.

“I’m not– not crying. You look very beautiful, honey.” An eye roll and a scoff, but he’ll take it, because she really does look lovely in the light purple dress Cherry helped her pick out, a sweet sight, with baby’s breath threaded through her hair.

His heart starts to kick up when they get to the church. It’s a small thing, simple, white clapboard and a single steeple. He knew that Deedee would have thrown a fit if they didn’t get married in a place of worship, not that he or Cherry had stepped foot in a church anytime in their recent adult lives. Still, they were happy to make that compromise, even though the priest had a small aneurysm when they told him that Cherry wouldn’t be taking Joel’s last name, no need for the Mr. and Mrs. Miller congratulations. Doing things their own way, just like they always have.

Only the first two rows are filled across each aisle. His parents, Tommy and Maria, a handful of other friends and family. Will is here too, with his girlfriend who Cherry seems sure will soon be more than his girlfriend. Joel’s family has become hers in many ways, filling in the gaps, something he’s been happy to be able to offer to her, and to Will whenever he visits.

He stands at the altar, waiting, Sarah right next to him, his hand on her shoulder, something to steady whatever this jittery feeling is.

And there’s no fanfare to it, just a sudden wave of silence when she and Ellie appear at the end of the aisle, heads turning over shoulders to see. Ellie looks sharp in her suit, pleased with herself, clear in the set back of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin as she walks her mom down the aisle. And Cherry, well.

He can already hear her snark. We’re way past white, Miller. Like sage, he thinks, soft green silk, a simple slip, her shoulders bare to reveal the dark curl of her tattoo. Her bouquet, made mostly of chrysanthemums, a broken laugh rattling in his chest at the sight. And she’s looking at him, the smallest curl of a smile, maybe a little nervous when her eyes dart to their modest audience, but then right back on him, still certain.

“I like the suit, kid.”

“Thanks, old man.” He’s only a little surprised when Ellie offers him a quick hug, already ducking over to the side so it’s just him and Cherry, and the priest, of course.

And the rest is blissfully easy.

…

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“Don’t slouch.” Her mother’s hand is a quick curl of ice at the back of her neck, just enough pressure to send her spine back into straightness from her slow slump in the pew. Honestly, she’s not sure why her family insisted on going to this wedding, it’s not like they’re that close with Lisa-Anne’s family, especially not her older sister who is the one getting married. Appearances, she reasons, always appearances with her mother and father. See and be seen.

Right now, after a nearly two-hour long ceremony, she has no interest in what her mother and father want, a little more focused on how her tights are cutting into her waist, sweat starting to drip down her spine beneath the stiff fabric of her dress. Mercifully though, this whole wedding thing seems to be wrapping itself up, man and wife walking down the aisle to a polite chorus of clapping. Meanwhile, she’s trying to figure out how she can escape early from the party afterward, trailing a bit glumly behind Will and their parents as everyone files out of the church.

“Hey, Cherry.” Just above a whisper, it still stops her in her tracks, stepping out of the throng of people to look around for where that sound came from. She scoffs when she sees who it is.

“What do you want, Joel?” He looks like a cartoon character running from the law, peeking out from behind the side of the church, wild grin and a jerk of his chin that she knows means come over here. She glances back to her family, making their way along with everyone else to the tent set up for the reception, and suddenly, whatever Joel’s offer may be is seeming much more appealing, already slinking off to the side and toward him. When she gets within arm’s length, he surprises her with a reach and tug to her forearm, pulling her along and behind the church, finding Tommy already partaking in what she supposes Joel wanted to rope her into.

“Hey, dipshit, I didn’t tell you to light up yet, did I? Have some manners, goddamn.” Tommy smiles sheepish, a thin seep of smoke coming out around the edges of his smile as Joel plucks the blunt from his fingers. He must be exceptionally bored, she thinks, to have wrangled her into this, considering that they haven’t spoken to each other much for the majority of sophomore year.

“I would say ladies’ first, but seeing as someone started without us, I’ll just give you the next hit, Cher.” She knows he’s serious, holding the smoldering blunt out to her pinched between thumb and forefinger, but she still scoffs.

“I can’t do that, Joel. If my mom smelled that on me she’d– well, I can’t do that.” He squints, shrugs. And she hates how beautiful he looks when he takes a languid hit, the top buttons of his rumpled dress shirt undone to display how the long line of his neck trembles with the inhale, the puff of his chest, and then that smooth slump when he lets the smoke out.

“Suit yourself. Tom, Maureen said she’d dance with you–” Tommy’s eyes light up, an exclamation already hanging from his parted lips, though Joel cuts him off with a prim finger pointed in the air.

“If you catch her early. So, you know, best get on with it.” Tommy nods hard, gulps a thank you to Joel, and is off like lightning around the side of the church and toward the reception. She raises her brow at Joel. Another shrug, smug.

“He asked me to talk to Maureen for him.”

“You didn’t talk to Maureen, did you?”

“Nope, he’ll figure that out for himself though. You sure you don’t want some of this?” He takes another hit, hissing out smoke as if to punctuate his question.

“No, and if that’s all you called me over here for then I think I’d rather be over at the–”

“Oh, c’mon, Cher. We can just talk, huh? It’s better than all that bullshit anyways. Look–” With that, he flicks the half-smoked blunt into the grass, stamping it out with the sole of his shoe.

“See? All gone, now we can be civil and proper just like your mama wants us to be.” His smile spreads, and she can’t help her own, finally sighing and leaning back against the side of the church, turning her head on her shoulder to look at him.

“What’d you think of the service?” He snorts, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass, his gelled hair – Deedee’s work, no doubt – flopping and falling into his eyes.

“Thought it was long. And I thought the groom looked about ready to hoof it.” It feels good to laugh after sitting still for so long, a quick flutter of it in her chest.

“He was sweating so much. And the way he messed up his vows?” Ever the entertainer Joel immediately goes into character, his grin dissolving, brow pinching down and mouth pulling into an over the top frown as he wrings his hands in front of him, the perfect pantomime of fret.

“In, uh, in health– no, in sickness and in health until, uh– what was it again? Oh, death– until death do us part. A–fucking–men.” He concludes with a slap to his thigh and a big bark of laughter, his head tilting to the side as he grins at her own guffaw.

“You make fun now, but just wait until you’re up there at the altar one day. I’d pay money to see that trainwreck.”

“Not very nice, Cherry. And also, bold of you to assume I’m even gonna get married.”

“Oh please, Joel. At the very least, I’m sure Deedee will eventually stick you with some nice girl from the Kiwanis Club.” His whole face scrunches up at that, an indignant sound crawling up the back of his throat as he shakes his head at her.

“Nah, nope, no, ma’am. Reckon I’m not really the marrying type.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.”

“Uh, yes I do. I got it last week.” He’s already fumbling in his back pocket, movements a little fuzzed around the edges from his couple of hits as he procures his wallet and waves his fresh license in her face.

“Nice mugshot.” He tuts, tucking his wallet away.

“Always so mean. I bet you’ll be a sight at the altar one day, Cher. Gotta be careful not to shred your pretty white dress up with all that bite.” The word bite comes out with a flashy flare of his canines, a dramatic snap of his jaw that makes her snort.

“I won’t have to worry about that, thank you very much.”

“Oh no?”

“No, I’m never getting married.” She regrets it the instant she says it, even though she means it, already bracing for Joel’s mimicry.

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.” High and nasally, though he cuts himself off with an oof when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“I got mine two months ago, so there.” He sighs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he mirrors her stance, leaning back against the church with his shoulder brushing against hers.

“You really ain’t gonna get married, Cher?”

“Not if I can help it, you?” It must be the weed, she thinks, making his face fall and his eyes droop.

“Nah, it’d, uh, have to be someone real special to change my mind.”

…

“You think they’d notice if we sneaked off for a while?” She tries to keep her grin schooled, a hard task with Joel’s hands wandering down her hips, laying a squeeze to the swell of her thighs before skating back up, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back flush with his chest.

“Hmm, the cake’s been cut, et cetera, et cetera. I think we could get away with it.” Joel hums, swaying her a little where they’re standing on their back porch, surveying their small but mighty reception. Ellie is dancing a clumsy waltz with Deedee, a few other family members around on the makeshift dance floor, everyone else talking in a haze of booze and sugar, slumped in their folding seats, napkins and plates stacked on the tables in front of them. And her and Joel are already slinking inside and up the steps. Giggling, entirely absurd, they don’t even make it to the bedroom, tangling and traipsing over each other into the bathroom, Joel kicking the door shut behind them as he crowds her up against the sink.

“Looked so beautiful today, I already tell you that?” Words humid and hotly murmured into her sternum, her laugh turns into a gasp when he noses up the column of her throat, teeth grazing that spot he so likes to grin into.

“You may have mentioned it. Not as pretty as you though, baby. All proper for me– oh, right there– waiting for me in your suit and tie.” Said suit and tie has long been shucked down to just his button-up and slacks, now untucked and rumpled, going lopsided with the way she fumbles down the first few buttons of his shirt. She can practically feel the heat flushing up his neck from her words, though Joel hides any bashfulness with a petulant smack to the side of her ass, quick to smooth when she jolts in his hold.

“Don’t tease, Cher, gotta be quick, huh? You gonna turn around for me and show me this pretty dress from the back?” The realization of just what that means settles in her mind, slanting her grin to the side as she shoves him back with a palm in the middle of his chest, for once, doing exactly as he asks and turning around to rest her palms on the counter. For posterity’s sake, she makes a show of it, arching her spine and spreading her stance a little wider, a little sway in her hips. She can’t help her snicker when Joel finally slides the satiny skirt of her dress up over her hips, his movements stuttering still as a quiet curse slips from his mouth.

“How— how long have you been like this?” She turns her gaze over her shoulder, maybe enjoying this too much in the slow bat of her lashes. Joel looks stricken, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“All day, baby, why do you ask?”

“You’re telling me you walked down the aisle– in a house of God– like this?” She shrugs, leaning back into Joel’s palm that’s been idly palming her ass, her very bare ass.

“Don’t tell Deedee.” His laugh comes out on a splutter, clearly unsure if he even should laugh in the first place, though she can’t help her own snort of amusement, soon the both of them dissolving into it, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling up.

“You are trying to give me a fucking heart attack, goddamn.”

“Think of the lines, Joel, it would have ruined my outfit.” He just shakes his head, leaning over her to find a slanted kiss. And then the realization that yes, they still need to be quick about this, wedding guests downstairs and all that. A little bit of fumbling, and a preening sigh in the back of her throat when he drags the hot weight of his cock through the seam of her cunt.

“Who’s the freak now, huh, Cher?” She tries to laugh, but it’s more of a whine when his hips finally settle against the plush of her ass, so deep that she can’t help but lift up onto her toes, Joel holding her steady with a palm clutching at her breast.

“You’re the one that married the freak.”

“Damn right I did.”

Not romantic at all. Quick, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin with the way she bounces back to meet his thrusts. And no, not so young anymore, so it isn’t long before they’re both biting back moans, a small hit to hold them over before the guests leave. They slump down against each other in the aftermath, hazy smiles and breaths that try at laughs, Joel pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder, the side of her neck, her temple.

“Love you, freak.”

“You were the freak first, Miller.”

“I believe the correct response is love you too, actually.” Still framing her against the counter, his hand comes to rest over top of hers, fiddling a bit with the ring on her finger.

“Yeah, that too.” He scoffs rubbing his scruff against her cheek with the way he shakes his head at her. It’s annoying how quickly she folds for him, turning around in his hold, a shaky two-step to finally look at him.

“You know I do, baby. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.” She punctuates her words with a kiss, small and simple, feeling his hum beneath her palm on his chest.

“Me too, Cherry. Only ever imagined it with you.”

...........................................

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