#aka head petting

[hanashiz]

Digital SKETCHEZ gallery PART 1

#Hana sketchez #Hana ocz #Sasaki Shiorika #Kuuya Naoki #Yukizue Tomoya #Amiyari Shiina #Akihara Sachiko #Tomatsu Haruki #Kirihitou Atari #Half of the sketchez will be called 'Affection Gesture' lol #aka head petting #black and white #artwork #digital art #digital drawing #digital sketch #oc drawing #ocs #original characters #original art #Some are already been coloured #check my page for the coloured (if they exist) lol jk #Arts #sketches #messy sketch

[screams-in-writing]

Still editing ch 3 and going on to outline ch 4 based off how that ch ends. Tentatively going for an early Thursday/late friday post for ch 3, and if Mr. Puzzles behaves, a possible late sun/early Monday post for ch 4.

For now, have a little preview of a later chapter’s scene where the reader finds out that not only are those tv antenna on Mr. Puzzles’ head actually sensitive, but he’s also very much touch-starved.

Note: This is planned to take place ch 7 or ch 9, if all goes according to the outline. It may change, however, and may even change/be split between pov depending on where it falls when editing.

~ Curiously, you reached out to touch the crooked left antenna. 

Mr. puzzles stuttered, but continued to sing, a furrow appearing on the screen of his face as he turned his head toward the camera, as if trying to see what was on the other side. Likely he was unable to, with how many tvs were in the immediate area of the unused area of the strip mall (and powered on, despite the lack of people).

You touch the right antenna next, pinching the metal between thumb and forefinger. 

This time, Mr. Puzzles actually stopped singing altogether as he promptly spoke in a strained voice.

“Dear viewers, please stand by for a quick maintenance break!”

The screen switched over to a ‘please stand by’ screen with Mr puzzles’ tv head logo on it. But within moments, there was a sudden switch to static before Mr. Puzzles’ technicolor smile and digital eyes appeared on the screen before you, wearing a harried expression. 

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”  Mr. Puzzles asked. Then, with a flash of a sly smile. “Or were you trying to let me know that you’re enjoying the show?”

“Let my coworkers come back. They didn’t mean anything by their teasing.” You jabbed a finger at the screen. “You can’t just kidnap people to use like puppets in your little shows.”

“Little?” Mr. Puzzles sounded offended and incredulous. “I’ll have you know I always strive for a 5 star rating in everything I do. Little.” A scoff, as mr puzzles voice and expression switched again to become smug. Amused with what he was about to say, even if his voice was anything but. It was cooler and deeper. More indifferent yet also Curious. “What would you do if I don’t let them leave?”

“This.” You deadpanned, repressing a shiver over the tone shift as you reached over to sharply pinch both of Mr. Puzzles’ antenna. 

“Ah!”

Before Mr. Puzzles could say more, you squeezed the metal tight before giving it a sharp yank. You expected a yelp of pain or even a digital stutter, but it was quite the opposite. 

Was that…had that been a moan? 

“What in the-? Are you…are these actually sensitive?!” You let go of the antenna like they’d burned you as you took a step back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-I thought it was more like the equivalent of being poked or something for you.” You jumped a little when one of Mr. Puzzles’ hand, the arm attached to it, came out from beneath the TV to seize your hand. You thought he was going to bring you into his ‘show’, but that wasn’t what happened. 

Mr. Puzzles merely placed your hand back onto one of his antenna. 

“Absolutely not.” You attempted to pull your hand away, despite Mr. Puzzles’ continued hold of your wrist. “I’m not touching your antenna if they’re that sensitive.”

“Please.” Mr. Puzzles sounded like he was winded, even as he took on a pleading tone. “I liked it.”

“…I think we need to have a conversation about what exactly it is you want with my home town and why you keep popping up everywhere I show up after my roommates threatened you with a garbage disposal for following me around without me knowing it.” You said, eying Mr. Puzzles arm and then his screen of a face. Then, shaking your head, added. “I didn’t even realize that you could experience anything like a human. I thought you were a robot?”

“Mmm…more like a cyborg?” Mr. Puzzles mumbled. “I still have some of a human body. It’s just different than before.” The hand loosened its tight grip on your wrist but didn’t let go. “Please?”

no acknowledgment of how odd it was for someone you knew less than a month was so interested in following you about after work, where he had been ‘filling in’ for the hours you couldn’t work.

oh.

speaking of coworkers.

“Bring my coworkers back.” You countered as you moved your hand out of mr puzzles slackened grip.

Mr. Puzzles studied you for a moment, but must have seen something in your expression that made him sigh theatrically that you were serious. Then, he reluctantly retracted his arm back within the tv (somehow). 

Much faster than you expected, Mr. Puzzles let your coworkers go; you could hear them end up in the empty store next door with yells of surprise followed by confusion, and then at least one of the two burst into loud sobs of terror. 

Swifter than even letting your coworkers go, Mr. Puzzles sprang up off the table, and before you knew it, he’d crowded in on you against the wall. Eagerly, he bent down and shoved his screen into your shoulder, before subtly tilting his head to present his antenna to you. No concept of personal space whatsoever, even if Mr puzzles kept his hands to himself by brace it then on his legs. wait.

Oh no.

You’d inadvertently introduced Mr. Puzzles to another way to get attention from someone. 

Possibly attention from you in particular.

This being assumed, because Mr puzzles soon impatiently straightened up when you did nothing, and, gentler than before, grasped your hand and led you over to a chair. 

You sat down, confused, and ready to point out you ought to go check on your still brokenly sobbing coworker when Mr. Puzzles promptly removed his television head to place on your lap. 

So that was a thing.

Mr. Puzzles flashed an expression up at you in what he likely thought was a hopeful look, but it only came off as desperate and deranged. Aaaand his body had just sat down on another chair as it kind of just went…inert, with the hands resting on the top of the knees. 

Weird.  You distantly wonder why the body horror right before you didn’t draw a big reaction from you. Maybe you were in shock? Maybe you’d seen enough of Mr puzzles antics that day in your home and at the cafe that it didn’t seem any different than those times?

“If you’re going to interrupt my show, then perhaps you could show me why you thought it necessary to tug on my poor antenna?” A huff of breath, then a strained. “But don’t actually tug in them so harshly.” A pause. “Please?”

nope. not when you didn’t know if it was a tactile, platonic thing to mr puzzles to have his antenna touched (unlikely based off what you just saw and heard), or if it somehow brought a sensation of pleasure (more likely, and definitely not something a casual acquaintance asked of another).

yikes.

You don’t think that Mr. Puzzles anticipated that you would do something other than what he wanted. So he was in a shock of his own when you stand up, and totter along while carrying his television head out of the abandoned store with you.

This left mr puzzles to fumble around in the dark as he protested, muffled against where you carried him to your chest, the entire way to another store where you set his television head down, and poked the screen to get his attention.

A gasp of comical offense.

 Mr puzzles’ body could be heard running into something with a ‘thud’.

“You can’t do that to my coworkers.” You point to the screen and then to the general area where crying could be heard. “Especially not when you’re already covering for my work while my arm finishes healing up.” You lean in close to make sure mr puzzles was looking at you. “And you shouldn’t kidnap people in general where no one but you knows where they went. My coworkers friends and family were so worried when they were gone for nearly two days.”

sirens sound in the distance.

one of your coworkers called the cops? Or something unrelated?

Mr puzzles might have said something, to try and steer the conversation elsewhere or make up some flimsy excuse, but you were distracted by both the sirens and realization of the heat emanating from his screen. Since the body wasn’t there to grasp your wrist again, you reached out to rest your fingers on Mr. Puzzles’ screen again, ignoring the stutters and glitching that rose in his voice. 

Huh. 

He really did feel like one of those old tube televisions you’d had when you were younger, complete with the warm screen and fuzzy static sensation.

Mr. Puzzles’ voice eventually slipped into soft pleading. Something about not leaving fingerprints on his face, while you curiously traced along the outside of his screen. It didn’t occur to you in the moment that Mr. Puzzles had feeling in his screen of a face, though not as sensitive of a place as the antenna were.  You’d not even noticed the fact that Mr puzzles body had collapsed only feet from where you were, twitching before curling up and hugging itself to then begin to tremble. You only became aware of the body when its long gangly arms wrapped around your waist in a clingy hug that made you jump and accidentally knock mr puzzles head off the flimsy table to the floor.

The arms let go of you as mr puzzles’ body sprawled out on the floor with a groan of discomfort rising from the television set.

“would you care to try that again so I can get a good recording of that?” Mr puzzles sounded huffy, and displeased as he pat around the floor until he found his head. With a grumble, the tv man picked it up to turn on he screen toward you, mr puzzles wearing a slightly feral, unhinged expression.

you swiftly leave the empty store to go check on your coworkers. Mr puzzles did not follow, but you could hear a low laughter ring out from the room behind you along with a raised, falsely cheerful lilt of a farewell that sounded more like a threat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” A little unhinged laughter trickled out. “I look forward to having another…stimulating conversation with you, my dear.”

Later, when you weren’t looking over your shoulder for Mr. Puzzles, you wondered why he let you touch his face, when he seemed so averse to anyone but him touching his television face, especially when you’d punched him in the screen not a month ago. Not only that, you also came out of the odd interaction with the knowledge that Mr. Puzzles could be successfully diverted from his hyper focus of turning your town into the greatest television show ever (or tormenting your coworkers in one of his shows) with just a touch to his inhuman head, and the antenna that stuck out of that ridiculous hat of his. 

#smg4 mr puzzles x reader #fic snippet #more a chunk of text really #mr puzzles discovers another way to get attention aka being doted on with pets to his tv head #Again this is on my phone so errors may be there as this is a draft #tw suggestive #I think?

[youngeditor1999]

Thinking about how Jake would call Bradley "baby" as a pet name has me going absolutely feral.

Not to mention all of the different ways he can say it and the context of when he uses it.

Just imagine them waking up next to each other and Jake's usually unheard southern accent slips out when he utters, "Morning, baby," because it's still early and he hasn't had time to adjust quite yet.

Or when he gleefully shouts, "Hey, baby!!" from across the room when he sees Bradley again for the first time after either one of them has been away on an assignment.

And of course, when they are in the heat of the moment and Jake pants out, "Yeah, baby, right there, that's the spot."

Yeah. 😌😍

Bradley is Jake's baby for now and for forever. ❤️

#Baby #babe #babies even if said children are older) Jake would still call Bradley #Jake Seresin #Bradley Bradshaw #Hangman Seresin #Rooster Bradshaw #Jake Hangman Seresin #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Hangster #Sereshaw #Bradley/Jake #Rooster/Hangman #can also be alternated to and you won't hear any arguments from me about it!! #Pet Names #Ok also even if they adopt kids together (aka *actualbaby" (': #head canon #head canons #Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun: Maverick imagine #Hangster imagine #They love each other your honor <3 #Just them <3 #OTP: You look good #OTP: I am good #OTP: I am very good #(OTP: I am good Rooster)

[twoplayer-gay]

#please i cant decide #reblog this i need votes (aka attention) #also the song it’s gonna be edited to is “west end girls” by pet shop boys #sometimes you’re better off DEAD there’s a gun in your hand it’s pointed at your HEAD #wowoowowowo

[thanksfortheflaglove]

.

#have been an anxious lil piece of shit since my mother walked past/then in my room bc she smelled something- #this was yesterday btw .. first thing she said was 'u dont vape do u?' and i was like 'no' *queue john mulaney voice: like a liar* #ok well technically only on occasion like if i dont have w**d #anyway she steps into my room and starts fuckin sniffing around and goes 'it smells like .. weed 😐' and just looked at me and guys .. #i am the WORST but my mothers brother aka my gay uncle got kicked out when they were younger bc he smoked too and my mother has grown to #not be fond of it since . so BASICALLY i lightly gaslit her and was like 'mom. seriously ? 🙄' #bc we joke about it on occasion like she went to denver and came back with a fuckin pot that says 'a little pot from colorado' meant for #weed and in my head im like 😭 bro i could actually use this 😭 #so thats how we joke but obviously for me its genuinely funny bc of the irony but anyway . #my anxiety was so high after that bc i literally had my pen on me and i just left the situation and started petting my dog and filled up my #waterbottle trying to think of what the fuck i was going to do next but that was literally the end of that #(at least for now but i dont even want to jinx it) #to be proactive tho bc newsflash i do smoke! i got smart as shit and wrapped my smell proof combo bag to make it look like a gift for my #my friends when i go back to school so she wont think anything of it #and then put my pen old battery and vape in a box hidden away so i can still access them if i need but god DAMN #i was def just being stupid tho bc i forget when im at home i cant be so lax and rip the shit out of my pen with my door closed and no fan #anymore like 😐 u dumb fuck i was smarter at 16 with this shit #anyway. its definitely on me and im just mad at myself for it and hope it doesnt come up again/that she isnt overly paranoid with me like i #am with myself rn #also just for some more background my mom and i have never been super close but im really close with my dad but i love with my mom ? so #after this semester not just bc of this situation but i might be like. ive never had a room at dads and id like to at least for summer #and go from there. they just moved and its so cozy and id love to make my room mine over there for once even if it means moving in for abit #but the one thing that would absolutely break my heart is that my dog lives with my mom and its not like i couldnt still see her but i feel #like id feel guilty/like im abandoning her or something :'( #idk if anyone read this far pls lmk ur thoughts #oh and i work right by my moms so its not like i couldnt still visit her but it would break my heart #kylas thoughts #drugs /

[tailpulling]

one of the best things abowlt havwing a meowrail who isnt in-tern-nested in havwing sex with mew is that mew can have some purretty nasty sex with someone who isnt into giving aftercare but still get the aftercare elsewhere. fur fr33!

best of both worlds!! B'33

#aka sollicks is furry suppawrtive of our interests t33h33 #got tore up a little bit so he had two fix us up and now were just laying in his lap in bed doing our own things while he pets our head #we love him so much!!

[yandere-daydreams]

snow leopard satoru wanting to catch you, but you keep hiding behind suguru. and finally satoru goes to suguru and asks him to share, and then the next time you're being chased by satoru and hide behind suguru you're in for a rude awakening (aka getting sandwiched between the two of them, and they 'share' )

:D

i'd like to think that suguru is, ultimately, a good pet owner (and more importantly, a die-hard satoru hater), so he does largely brush off satoru's comments about showing off his cute little mate and break up the little ""play fighting"" sessions satoru pulls you into (even if it means letting you cling to his side while satoru whines and yowls from a few feet away), but when he comes home to satoru fucking you properly, his cock splitting open your smaller, softer body, your pitchy mewls and cockdrunk moans filling his apartment - his restraint doesn't completely snap, but it's hard to keep thinking of you as his innocent kitten after he's heard you begging for his long-term companion's cum. your little fangs and poor self-control make it too dangerous to try and fuck your throat, so he just crouches near your head, raking his fingers through your hair and scratching at the base of your ears while satoru ruts into you, his teeth sunken into the tender flesh of your shoulder and his purring almost obnoxiously loud. he might not join in right away, but he will let you bury your face in his lap while you sob and sniffle and cum on satoru's cock for the nth time.

after satoru's had his fill, he'll even pull you into his arms and drag you into a warm bath; taking stock of all the bitemarks and bruises painted across your chest, your neck, your thighs while you nuzzle into him and ramble half-consciously about how much you hate it when satoru 'bullies' you. even when you inevitably fall asleep curled against his chest, he's not going to be able to stop thinking about how small you looked underneath satoru, how wide he stretched you open.

he's not going to be stop wondering just how tiny you'd look, pressed against him.

#personal #anon ask #hybrid au #yandere gojo #yandere geto #jujutsu kaisen

[pteryx-pets]

Huh, I wonder where my cat is

(the bed is lumpy bc I put the blanket over a couple pillows to make a daybed for her)(usually she is on TOP of the blanket though)

#zxjktkhthsh the fluffy; striped monstrosity; devourer of catnip; aka zix aka monster #my cat #pteryx pets #now she’s sticking her head out the other side so she can look out the window in maximum *conmf*

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Riddle Rosehearts #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #Riddle x Reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Leona x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #Jamil Viper #Jamil Viper x Reader #Jamil x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Idia x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader

[giamee]

𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄!

... aka fictional boyfriends as things my pet cat does lmfao

༊*·˚ featuring ➻ my genshin, hsr & jjk faves

༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ switching up the layout bc i can teehee... also this one is kinda slop cos its just every character on my masterlist oop. N E WAYS i found out that im allergic to my cat but love is pain and i am a masochist so here we are

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DOESN'T RESPOND UNLESS YOU CALL HIM BY HIS NICKNAME.

he's leaning against your kitchen counter, fingers tapping against it as he's poised so deliberately to give off the impression that everything he's doing is so absent-minded. the way he's scrolling through his feed so aimlessly, just tuned out from the world, including you and your futile attempts at getting his attention.

you call his name, tug at his sleeve, and you don't miss the mischievous smirk on his lips as he glances up at you.

"i don't know who that is, sorry, i hope you find him though."

it's infuriating, sometimes, when he lets his more playful side out. but you know him well, and you play along, not being able to help the smile that fights to stay on your lips.

"well then, my beloved, could you help me look for him?"

and there's an instant change from him, back straightening as he stops leaning against your counter, arms open wide to receive you, a beam on his face.

"gladly, my love."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ kaveh, welt, dan heng, luocha, GETO

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GETS EXTRA AFFECTIONATE AND CUDDLY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

no matter as to whether you had gone to bed with him or before, you're woken up prematurely in the middle of the night at the sensation of your body being moved, ever so gently, across the sheets, closer towards a warm body that nestles itself solidly behind you.

you're barely awake, but you smile to yourself at the newfound comfort, having drifted away as you slept, and now happily reunited.

"i missed you," he breathes against your ear, turning his head to dip down and press kisses to your cheek. you smile, nose scrunching at the ends of his hair that tickle your skin, but welcome it nonetheless.

his arm slips around you, keeping you safely anchored to him, and he lets out a contented hum that almost sounds like he's purring, chest solid against your back.

"you're acting like you've come back from war," you murmur, and he can hear the way you tease even in your half asleep state.

"every second away from you is agony, my love."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ DILUC, alhaitham, JING YUAN, choso, NANAMI

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 RANDOMLY BITES AND HEADBUTTS YOU.

sure, there's doing something unexpected to grab your attention, but it catches you off guard every. single. time.

he has seemingly no regard for whatever it is that you're doing- you're cooking something? he sneaks up behind you, teeth sinking into your shoulder before he slinks away like it never happened.

trying to get work done? he comes up to you, using his head to poke you and offering no explanation as he walks away.

it's ... endearing, to say the least. it comes from a place of love, that's for sure. make no mistake that you like to bite him too, but he still manages to one-up you each time.

while it started off as surprising in the early days of your relationship, over time you've adapted to it, now even offering a body part for him to headbutt as a greeting.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ cyno, WRIOTHESLEY, neuvillette, BLADE, toji, HIGURUMA

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 FOLLOWS YOU AROUND AND WHINES IF YOU DON'T GIVE HIM ENOUGH ATTENTION.

"babyyyy, i'm bored."

you don't have to turn around to know that he's pouting, some grown ass man acting like a toddler in hopes that you'd pay attention to him. you can't help but roll your eyes, what with him pushing the limit between cute and aggravating for the past half an hour or so.

ever since you had invited him over and he practically let himself in, he had basically followed you from room to room, huffing and puffing as you focused on your work instead of entertaining him.

and as you finally settled in your room, at your desk, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he flopped down onto your bed, his head dangling off the edge as he scrolled through his phone half-heartedly.

and you had to admit, he looked cute like that. you bite back your smile as you see him glance up at you to see if you're looking at him before flopping back down on the bed with a huff.

you'll be done soon, then you'll give him all the attention he wants.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ CHILDE, thoma, sampo, gepard, GOJO

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence!

an introduction to your new roommate dan heng, and the guitar that he loves to play so much

#kaveh x reader #hsr welt x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #luocha x reader #geto suguru x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #choso x reader #nanami kento x reader #cyno x reader #wriothesley x reader #hsr sampo x reader #hsr blade x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #higuruma x reader #childe x reader #thoma x reader #neuvillette x reader #hsr gepard x reader #gojo satoru x reader #genshin x reader #hsr x reader #jjk x reader

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark but Just a Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: your dad’s associate and friend, joel miller, finally tires of your constant teasing

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption & drunkenness; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (intoxication, power imbalance); age gap.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka that’s bestfren

word count: 3.7k

no use of y/n in this fic.

Click to read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Click to read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman

ahhhh this is my first time writing for joel so any and all feedback is super appreciated. i was slightly inspired by the amazing dbf!joel drabbles that @anchoeritic writes (seriously, if you enjoy this fic, go read them). as always, my requests are open !!

—

THEN,

It started out so innocently.

Your dad often helped Tess and Joel smuggle contraband in and out of the QZ, sometimes by keeping the right people quiet, other times by offering the pair a place to lay low at. You got accustomed to the sight of them passed out on the floor, the glow of the sunrise illuminating only their sleeping faces, or else a murmuring trio of hushed voices in the middle of the night.

Soon, however, you began to notice the way Joel’s eyes seemed to trail on you, often catching his hardened gaze in yours. Still, he rarely spoke to you and when he did, he mostly just grunted a “hullo” or asked if your father was around.

But you suspected that he noticed you.

Especially when your old clothes got too tight, hugging your skin and leaving little to the imagination. You observed his breath hitching the very first time he saw you in a skirt.

So, naturally, you played into it. You started sneaking downstairs in the morning wearing only a t-shirt and your underwear, feigning innocence at the way (you imagined) he tried, hard, not to look at your ass as you sauntered back up to your room.

Sometimes, you bumped into him on the streets of the QZ. You’d loop your arm around his broad bicep, wide-eyed, gazing up at him through your eyelashes and asking why he hadn’t dropped by to say hello recently. Causing him to tense beneath your hands always felt electrifying; the restraint in his grumbled “soon” always felt like a victory.

When it was dark out and he, Tess, and your dad shared a drink together on the dusty-old-living-room-couch, you made sure to lock eyes with him, taking in the danger lurking in them. He’d look away, leaning back casually and adjusting his jeans.

But—it was always innocent.

It was a game you played with yourself; one you weren’t even sure he was in on. Life in the QZ got dull, and there were only so many good-looking men your age that your dad’s work allowed you to see.

Sometimes, when business was good, your old man got his hands on an extra shipment of liquor, inviting all of his favourite bandits in the Zone and throwing a “party” in one of the run-down, less monitored buildings. You did yourself up as best as you knew how to, shared a flask with your friends and flirted with young smugglers.

It was seedy, but it was fun.

Joel was always there, usually asking around for parts or looking to cut deals. Usually, he drank and stayed out of your way.

Once, however, after being extremely irresponsible with your consumption, you found yourself alone with Andy, a young FEDRA guard (working for your side, of course), slurring your words and stumbling on your feet. He was good-looking in a boyish way and handsy to high heavens. You vaguely remembered his insistence on taking you back to his place and the feel of his wet lips against yours. You clearly remembered hearing a gruff, “Get off,”—Joel’s baritone echo taking you both by surprise. Andy’s head swung to find Miller’s looming form in the doorway; he immediately tore his hands from your body and scampered off. You were alone with Joel, his expression a mask of rage and contempt tinged with—could it have been—jealousy?

After that, it was all bits and pieces of blurred images and sounds. Big hands pulled you into strong arms; your feet were lifted from the ground. You retained flashes of drunken faces smiling and jeering at you as you were carried away from the festivities—then it was dilapidated hallways, the jangling of keys fumbling with a lock, and finally, the ceiling above your bed as Joel gently set you down. Even now, you could clearly picture the way his eyes traveled along your exposed skin as he stood, arms crossed, at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, fixing your drunken, playful eyes to look deeply into his, you slurred, “Got a bit jealous?”

He said nothing. He only held your gaze and crossed his arms, the muscles beneath flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the motion.

“C’mon Joel,” you teased him, “so serious, all the time. I was fine.”

Now that had an effect.

He growled, “one more minute with that asshole…” and shook his head, his words trailing off as he fought the urge to take your bait. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He turned, heading towards the door. Perhaps the excess liquor made you reckless or Andy’s kisses left you wanting—either way, you needed to push the limits with Joel. You needed him to stay, to turn around and play your game.

“I could thank you now, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to the side. Your blood burned in your veins, both from the alcohol and from the tension pulsing between you and him in that darkened room. He paused for a moment and it felt like a lifetime—laid on the bed, watching his shoulders move with every breath he took. He flexed a hand, something he often did when he was around you.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

And with that, he shut off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

So, you decided it was probably all in your head. Maybe the looks and the tension and the teasing were just part of a one-sided game you played with yourself. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the strain in his voice when he ordered you to bed or the anger that went beyond disdain and contempt at the sight of Andy’s hands exploring your body. You regularly reminisced about the events of that night, most often without meaning to. Most often alone, between the hours of one and three AM, sneaking a guilty hand down between your thighs.

That was the last time Joel had interacted with you.

At least before tonight.

—

NOW,

Joel stands between Tess and a seedy looking short guy you’ve never seen before, clearly not paying attention to whatever the two of them are hashing out. Tensions are low, which makes Joel look comically out of place. He lifts a silver flask to his lips.

The chatter of people talking and laughing fills the narrow, dusty space—from somewhere down the hall, you hear your father’s booming laugh. You’re finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on whatever your peers are gushing on about. The warmth in your stomach and the buzz under your skin from whatever liquor finds its way into your cup brings you back to the last time you’d seen Joel at one of these get-togethers.

“Can’t believe Miller comes to these things,” one such peer—a bandit in training, your good friend Emma—remarks. “Weird seeing him… well, not relaxed but… not stressed.”

You laugh. “I know, right. When he’s passed out, I don’t even recognize him. Looks completely different without his signature scowl.”

She turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on you. “Right,” she says, “I forgot him and your dad…” She trails off, her expression changing as her interests do, as well.

Emma suddenly smirks at you. “Does he sleep naked?” she asks, mischievous. This piques the interest of the others paying attention to your conversation, who subsequently tune in to hear your answer.

You smile, shaking your head. “No,” you respond, keeping your voice low. “Fully clothed—with his gun in hand.”

Emma’s eyes settle back on Joel as her smile fades. The other delinquents go back to their respective conversations. “Such a shame,” she says, wistfully. “I’d bet a month’s rations that his dick is huge.”

You giggle at that and she passes you the flask. You take a big swig, heat blooming across your tongue as the whiskey burns down your throat.

He catches you staring—his eyes darken when he notices the drink in your hand. Smiling innocuously at him, you wave your fingers in an extremely girlish greeting gesture. He raises his thick eyebrows, unimpressed.

A familiar figure interrupts your silent conversation.

“Hey,” Andy says, his voice unsure and subdued.

“Hey.”

He looks rumpled and flushed, as though recent weeks had not been kind to him. Andy’s not-brown-not-blonde hair hangs limp around his crown, mirroring the defeated air his stature gives off. Despite the near foot he has on you, he seems ironically small.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look,” he tries, awkwardly stuffing his fingers in his pockets, “I’m sorry about last time. I was really drunk and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t cool.”

You scoff. “I don’t really think it was so much what you said, Andy,” you respond playfully. After all, you know he meant no harm. Drunk people get horny, and you had both been very drunk. “Don’t worry about it. No hard feelings,” you add.

That’s when, from over Andy’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s expression. Pure disapproval. Cold, ruthless contempt burns in his eyes.

“At least not from me.”

Andy turns around slowly, following your eye-line. By the time he clues in to who you’re referring to, Joel’s already looked away, turning his attention to the still-ongoing conversation between Tess and the stranger.

“Right,” Andy says, wincing. “He’s been giving me a hard time on the streets.”

“Don’t sweat over Miller,” Emma interjects casually. “He gives everyone a hard time.”

Once again, you find yourself distracted from the conversation, focussing on a different man in the room. Why should he get to decide when you get to be wild? What business does he have protecting you from other guys? After all, Joel Miller is not your father.

It frustrates you that he keeps pretending not to notice your stare. It frustrates you that he keeps his head ducked, feigning interest in the deal being made beside him. Taking in his size, the salt-and-pepper of his hair, and the fierce angle of his jaw, you steal another swig from the flask, wiping the excess off your lips.

It emboldens you.

Leaning up on your tippy-toes, you muster up your most sensual tone, whispering softly in Andy’s ear: “Let me make it up to you.”

You pull back to catch his look of disbelief, his pouty pink lips parting slightly as he struggles to locate his words. Grabbing his hand in yours, you nod your head to the right, wordlessly encouraging him to take you down the hall. He obeys without a sound.

You quickly shove the flask back into Emma’s hand.

“Save some for after,” you plead, and she shakes her head, tossing you an exaggerated eye-roll.

You lock eyes with Joel momentarily before you’re pulled down the hall, satisfaction leaking from your gaze—you’re not quite sure why. You break away, ignoring the non-verbal warning in his stare.

Who cares what he thinks, anyways?

You wind up in a run-down, dim-lit room, empty save for an old desk. Andy pins you against the wall as soon as the door creaks to a close behind you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy, tipsy kiss. His hands travel south to grab your ass and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Things heat up—his clumsy fingers brush the fabric over your breasts and you dig your hip into the bulge beneath his denim.

It’s not that you want Andy. Frankly? It could be anyone. None of the boys you hang out with really interest you beyond being potential partners for youthful experimentation—which is exactly what Andy is to you. In all likelihood, that’s not what you are to him.

Oh well. Those are morning thoughts.

Andy’s hands snake under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips creeping up to your breasts.

The door slams open.

Andy basically leaps off of you, a horrified expression settling on his features as he registers the identity of the intruder—as history repeats itself.

“Out,” Joel orders through gritted teeth, holding the door open for the boy to walk through. Andy practically sprints free—without risking a goodbye, without uttering a “sir, yes sir.”

You sigh once you and Joel are alone, adjusting your clothing and casually leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, Joel,” you say, exasperation coating your words. “What’s this all about.”

Wordlessly, he closes the door and locks the handle. His movements are slow, precise, and calculated—butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He approaches you, leaning one hand against the wall behind your head and using a pair of thick, callused fingers to tilt your head up. He smells like sandalwood and hard liquor; he smells like a man. Electricity crackles throughout your entire being.

The touch of his hand on your face drains every last drop of your boldness.

“I think,” he grumbles out, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous, “You know exactly what this is about.”

You swallow, focussing all your energy on holding his severe gaze. Between your thighs, your nerves begin to pulse, responding to his proximity with enthusiasm.

“No, I really don’t,” you respond, mustering up some confidence from god-knows-where to render your tone convincing.

He scowls. “S’lil’ game you’re playin’,” he mutters softly, coolly. “Comin’ downstairs half-naked, clingin’ onto me in public when you know I can’t do anything…”

He shakes his head, his grip on your jaw tensing slightly.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is hoarse. “What are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

A smile creeps onto your face at the anguish in his voice.

So you hadn’t imagined it. Joel had been in on it from the start.

You look up at him with big, sultry eyes, taunting him. There’s no point in avoiding the truth anymore—you want joel. And you’ve never really been the type to not go for what you want.

In this moment, you’re willing to risk anything to have Joel do something, anything to you.

Wicked innocence drips off your every word as you purr, “Whatever you’ve been dying to give me, Joel.”

You watch your answer take effect. A vein in his jaw twitches—lust floods his eyes.

In a flash, you’re facing the wall with both hands pinned above your head by one much larger, much stronger hand. Joel’s weight presses against you, pinning you in place.

“That right, angel?” Joel challenges under his breath as his other hand explores your chest, grabbing roughly at your breasts. “Want me to show you what I’ve had in mind?”

His hand travels towards your underwear, sliding down your front in a tantalizing motion; you moan before his fingers even brush your most sensitive spot.

“I do, Joel,” you moan, desperate for his touch. The feel of his chest against your spine is intoxicating, your mind goes blank at the sensation of his cock pressed against your ass.

Joel’s index and middle fingers find your clit, rubbing torturous circles around the throbbing bud. His thumb presses into your skin, anchoring his hand in place.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans. “Wonder what your dad’d say if he knew his lil’ girl was soakin’ wet for this cock.”

He slips a finger inside you, curling it up, making your mouth gape open in a silent ah and your eyebrows crease together. “You think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” Gasping and struggling against his hold, you nod enthusiastically, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, wanting more, more, more.

“Manners,” he growls, tightening his grasp on your wrists. “Please, Joel,” he corrects, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, his palm flattened and working against your swollen clit.

“Please-please, Joel,” you gasp out, throwing your head back against the crook of his shoulder. He leans forward, laying a soft kiss in the delicate nook of your neck. Then, he’s releasing you, pulling his fingers out and taking a step back.

He gestures to the desk.

“Facedown, sweetheart.”

You obey, stumbling over to it and laying your chest against the cold wood. It stings and you shiver.

Joel fumbles with his belt and then he’s behind you, unzipping his fly and pulling his length out. With your cheek laid against the desk, you get a perfect view of him towering over you, a dark God, holding his cock in his hand.

Emma had been right.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns, before flipping up your skirt. He groans at the sight of your ass, roughly grabbing one cheek and squeezing it—hard.

“I will be,” you whine, desperate to take him in.

He chuckles, pulling down your dripping panties, letting them fall to your ankles. His tip runs between your folds, teasing your clit in tormenting strokes. You whine and moan, “Joel-s’good,” responding to every brush of his tip.

“You’re needy,” he says, gruffly.

He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, settling every inch of himself inside you.

“I like needy.”

You gasp at the sting and the pleasure and the fullness, unable to control yourself. Joel is huge—your walls wrap tightly around him as he pulls out near-completely before snapping his hips against your ass, filling you up to the brim again. You cry out as he holds your arms in place, setting a rhythm, grabbing you just as roughly as he fucks you.

“Joel,” you moan loudly before a large hand slaps over your lips.

“Shut up,” he growls.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you give yourself to him entirely, cravenly grinding against his hips.

“Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my cock,” he taunts. “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room, dirty and filthy and hot.

Joel’s fingers muffle your moans of abandonment, every “fuck,” “yes,” and “thank you,” coming out simply as “mmm.”

“This what you fuckin’ wanted?” he asks gruffly, leaning a hand next to your head and bending forward to loom over you. “Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age?”

The angle allows him to push even more of his length inside you, causing you to squirm pathetically against his hips. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he adds, “That right, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes growing heavy, filling with abandon.

He looses a hollow laugh. “Needy lil’ thing,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in your hair. “With a needy lil’ pussy.”

Freeing your mouth, he throws his head back, straightening out and bringing both hands to your circle your waist. Now, he fucks you fast and brutally, his breath coming heavy and hard. With every stroke, Joel’s tip grazes your inner most sensitive spot, causing sheer ecstasy to radiate throughout your core.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg. “Come in me—please.”

Joel groans sinfully. “Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

Fluttering waves ripple from your cunt down your legs, threatening to take you over the edge.

“Joel,” you half-sob, “I’m gonna-”

He slows down, thrusting into you in great, harsh strokes, well-versed in the art of bringing a woman to climax. You cry out as your orgasm tears through you, unable to form words or thoughts or anything beyond “Joel,” “Ohmygod,” and “yes-yes-yes.”

“S’it baby,” he coaxes. “Come aaalll over my cock.”

Your walls clench around him, your pussy just as desperate as you are to keep him tucked inside you.

He exhales shakily, grabbing fistfuls of your ass in his hands.

“Fuck it,” he groans, thrusting faster inside you. “M’gonna fill you up.” Your eyes are still rolled to the back of your head, your hands desperately searching for something to grasp onto. His cock swells inside you, tensing up between your walls as his seed spills out between them—he comes with an “oh fuck” and a final, brutal stroke.

You lie still for a moment, listening to the sound of your ragged breathing harmonizing with Joel’s. He runs a massive hand along your arm, his touch suddenly delicate, revering.

“You’d better fuckin’ pray I can find the pill for you tomorrow,” he says finally, his husky voice both amazed and amused.

Lifting your chest off the table, you slowly flip around, perching on the edge to face him as he reorganizes his clothes, pulling his boxers up and tugging at his fly. He looks so handsome between your knees, with his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt all rumpled.

“Get extra,” you coo, your breath still uneven, your thoughts still bungled. You run a slight hand devotedly down his plaid shirt, marvelling at the pleasure the proximity brings you.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “S’was a one-time deal, angel,” he says with a smile. He finishes doing up his belt and leans both his hands on the table, his nose just centimeters away from your own. “Can’t be caught fuckin’ my associates’ daughters—bad for business,” he adds, pulling your underwear back up your thighs. You adjust yourself and pout at him, playfully.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, pretend-innocence soaking your tone.

He smiles softly. “I liked it too much,” he responds. “S’why it can’t happen again.”

You raise your eyebrows defiantly. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy on you, Miller.”

He slowly straightens up, offering you a hand as you scoot off the desk. Your legs feel shaky, but his hold anchors you in place.

“M’countin’ on that.”

With that said, he gestures for you to leave the room, following closely behind you. He opens the door and you peer into the hallway, making note of its emptiness before stepping out. Joel exits soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. You catch him looking back at you, a dazed, hungry look still lingering on his expression.

It makes you smile.

Later that night, you find Emma and Joel finds Tess. You’re back to your side of the divide and he’s back to his.

It’s as though nothing ever happened.

“Hey, check it out,” Emma remarks. “Miller actually looks, like, chilled-out,” she slurs loudly.

You smile knowingly, nodding in agreement.

“‘Guess he found a way to blow off steam.”

She gives you a quick, faded nod before becoming absorbed in something else. It doesn’t bother you. You’re also absorbed in something else: lost in thought, consumed by the lingering echoes and traces of Joel’s skin on yours.

When you catch his eye from across the room, you can tell that his thoughts are haunted by the very same thing.

This was no longer an innocent game.

It was a dirty secret.

—

Read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman (Let Me Hold You Like a Baby)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #Joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller x you #dbf!joel #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #tlou show #dark but just a game series

[primehyuck]

dress

this is the hair, the face, etc

aka Mark thinks you look really pretty tonight (very “only bought this dress so you could take it off” / “can we hear it for the dress” esque )

word count: 3.5k

contents : pretty much pure smut, pussy worship, soft dom mark, oral (f receiving) , body worship - mark thinks you’re REALLY REALLY pretty, mirror sex (kind of), lots of pet names, established relationship, mark seduced me as i was writing this

“Don’t you look pretty?” Mark smirks at you from where he leans against the door frame and you smile softly at him in the mirror, taking off the jewelry you’d worn to dinner with your friends that evening. You place the items gently inside the white vanity he’d had made for you when you moved in together the year before.

“Thanks, baby.” you take him in, fresh out of the shower in sweats and a big t-shirt. He looks too hot for his own good, his hair the longest it had been since you’d met, freshly bleached strands curling over his eyes.

“Did you have fun?” He slinks up behind you, warm fingers toying with the thin strap holding your dress in place, his left hand shutting the top of the vanity before pressing heavy to the front of your hip.

You nod “It was nice to have some girl time, as much as I love spending evenings with the boys.” you scrunch your nose earnestly, thinking of Mark’s best friends who had treated you like family since day one.

“I’m glad, though you should have seen the look on Jisung’s face when he learned you’d be at dinner with your old roommate and he was stuck cooking for the rest of us” he murmurs and you can feel the smile on his face as he rests his cheek on your shoulder. The combination of his warm breath on your neck and thick lashes blinking over your skin makes you shiver “I was sad that I missed you before you left.”

“We ended up going for a cocktail before dinner,” you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair and he lets go of the dress strap to trace up the inside of your arm. Mark turns his head to press his lips to your shoulder, pretty brown eyes blinking at you in the mirror once before skimming down the reflection of your body.

His gentle fingers drifting over your arm make your skin tingle and you can hardly breathe when he grips your bicep firmly, supporting your arm as he kisses over the shape of your shoulder, all the way to your elbow and back up again.

“Is this new?” He mumbles, the hand on your hip moving to tug at the hem of your dress. You nod, and he smiles before guiding your raised arm down to rest at your side, fingers lacing through yours. You watch in the mirror as he drags his nose into the crook of your neck, tilting your head to the side to make space for him there.

“Pretty,” his eyes catch yours in the mirror again.

“You already said that.” you tease weakly, failing to keep your breathing under control.

“My bad,” Mark chuckles quietly, left hand stretching to rub your thigh, no effort needed to hike the short dress up enough to expose your panties “I mean, you look gorgeous. Good enough to eat.”

You're surprised your knees don't buckle when he shifts his hand between your thighs to cup your clothed core.

“You think?” You mumble, turning to face him rather than his reflection. He blinks slowly at you, nodding once before his lips are on yours.

His kiss fills your lungs and you both moan. The fingers that were warming your core finds your shoulder to spin you toward him without loosening his grip on your hand. He presses you against the vanity, free hand finding a home on the back of your neck while he brings your joined fingers down, rubbing over where his cock strains against his pants. Your dress rides up to your hips when he pushes your ass firmly onto the surface of the custom table, lanky fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to let me take you somewhere in this, love showing you off” he mumbles against your lips before trailing his own over your chin and down your throat “somewhere I can fuck you while you're wearing it.” You feel his cock jump at his own words, arching your chest into him when he licks gently over the swell of your breast on display beneath the low cut neck of the dress.

“Anytime,” you gasp, the hand not pressed between your bodies pulling gently at his hair in an effort to bring his mouth to yours again. He complies easily, pushing your intertwined knuckles into your clothed pussy and you feel him rut against your forearm at the damp spot growing there.

“Shit, the thought of me fucking your perfect pussy in public turns you on that much?” He stops kissing you for a second to tease meanly before taking both of his hands away from your body and you have to plant yours on the vanity to stop your head from banging into the mirror behind you.

“I want you to fuck me now” you pout, reaching pathetically for the fabric of his baggy clothes, but he’s just out of reach. You huff at him, quickly going for your own dress.

“Be patient baby, please. You’ve been able to see yourself all night.” he tuts, having to step between your legs to hold your wrists still “let me spend some time with the dress, too.”

You whimper when he drags your hips to the edge of the sleek wood to grind you against him, “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

You take advantage of his hands being on your hips to wrap your fingers through his damp hair, dragging his mouth to yours. Mark’s hands are everywhere; pulling your dress up to your waist, leaving hot prints in the wake of his fingers, gliding over the skin of your thighs before hooking beneath your knees to keep your legs open. When you try to wrap your arms around his neck he easily pulls out of your desperate grasp, but you can see the wanton look in his heavily lidded eyes.

“Gonna make you feel as good as you look,” he rasps and you nod eagerly. His fingers drag over the straps of the dress before deciding against it, leaving your upper body covered “If that's even possible.”

He pulls you off of the vanity and guides you to the bed, keeping your body flush to his until he lays you back onto the mattress. The mirror hanging on the wall above the desk tilts down so you can see your reflection from the edge of mattress, the way Mark had specifically designed it.

“That’s better, want you to watch.” he smiles, glancing behind him to make sure the only part of yourself you can't see is what he's blocking with his own body as he drops to his knees between your legs. He rubs the heel of his palm into your clothed center, fingers digging into your pubic bone while he peppers kisses up your legs. His hand keeps your hips from bucking up when he licks heavily into the crease of your thigh before he moves his palm to press a wet, open mouthed kiss to your underwear. He sucks the fabric between his lips before his strong fingers pull your underwear up tight against your pussy to perfectly outline your already engorged clit and Mark’s cheek rests heavily where his mouth had just been on your thigh.

“Shit, baby.” he groans, stretching the fabric of your underwear in his fist, shifting it side to side and watching your lips move with it “I did this to you?” he asks gruffly, face sliding further up your leg until you can feel his breath on your soaked core.

You choke out a weak affirmation as he releases your panties, moaning when the stretched out fabric sticks to you. Your whole body shudders when he leans forward, nosing over your clit and inhaling deeply, dark lashes fluttering prettily against his cheeks.

“Mark, please-“ you gasp when he opens his mouth fully over you, dragging your panties away from your skin with his teeth and sucking at the ruined fabric.

Sometimes Mark feels a little pathetic between your legs, completely intoxicated, essentially trying to drink the taste of your pussy off of your underwear. The fact that he's so desperate for you, and yet he still has complete control never fails to inflate his ego, and as always it has his dick straining painfully against his sweats.

He moves the limp fabric to the side and uses two eager fingers to pull you apart, exposing your clit and Mark swears he sees it pulse, the idea making pre-cum leak from his dick like a broken faucet.

“Could stare at this pretty pussy all day,” he murmurs, not even looking up at you “but then I wouldn’t be able to taste it.”

You both let out sighs of relief when his tongue finally makes contact, laving over your wet folds. He moves urgently, wanting to touch you everywhere but settling with one hand palming gently over your inner thigh, the other keeping your hole open for his tongue to fuck into. When you open your eyes to look down you see his own closed gently, blissed out as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Your eyes flicker toward the mirror, gaze following the firm circles Mark is tracing into the skin of your thigh, the callouses from hours of guitar make goosebumps rise on your skin. You wish he’d take his shirt off, the black material stretches over his strong shoulders as he moves his mouth over your pussy. You lace your fingers through his blonde waves, his moan vibrating through you when you tug at his scalp. He moves his mouth over you with intention, wetting his chin and nose as he buries into you, never spending too much time in one spot in an effort to spend as long between your legs as possible.

“Fuck, baby, I’m already so close.” you gasp, the few minutes of teasing wound you up like a clock, the gentle flick of his tongue over your clit enough to make your entire body shake. He looks up at you, blonde curls getting caught in his lashes. The deep brown of his hungry eyes is almost enough to make you cum until he suddenly pulls away.

“No, no, no,” you wiggle yourself toward his mouth and he has to close his eyes for a moment to restrain himself, wanting almost nothing more than to make you cum on his tongue over and over and over.

“Needy girl,” he leans away from you and you whine again until you realize it’s to tug his shirt off and toss it to the side. Both hands press back into your legs as soon possible, rubbing over your shins and thumbing into the pit of your knee before gliding up your inner thigh.

“You’re teasing me.” you pant, your own hand threatening to sneak down to rub over your spit soaked clit but he stops you, glaring.

“I don’t think so, baby.” he deadpans “you can make this easy or you can make this hard.”

“I make you hard.” You smirk, attitude overpowering your need to orgasm and Mark tilts his head in surprise.

“You know eating your pretty pussy does more than just make me hard.” He raises an eyebrow, reminding you gently of all the times he’s cum from grinding into the mattress while going down on you “makes me fucking crazy.”

Your breathy laugh turns to a moan when he puts his mouth back on you, nose buried in your skin. He drapes your thighs over his bare shoulders and it takes what feels like less than a minute of his tongue rolling over your clit to get you right back to where you were. You groan angrily when he pulls away again.

“Why?” you can barely get the word out, feeling your legs move up as your boyfriend shrugs beneath them.

“I told you to watch” his arms reach from around the outside of your legs so one hand can push your chin, directing your eyes to the mirror while the other drifts over the soft silk of the dress that might as well be suffocating you. You watch the muscles in his back flex, your toes pointing to dig into his shoulder blades.

He follows your gaze, guiding your leg down onto the mattress and shifting his tosro out of the way so you can see yourself, swollen and wet from the torment of his mouth.

“Tell me what you see.” He commands softly, the hand supporting your leg moves quickly to rub over your soaked center and you blush when you realize you can hear his fingers gliding over you. You both watch the reflection of his middle and ring finger slowly pushing into you. You’re so wrapped up trying to keep your eyes from fluttering shut that you barely notice the way his breathing quickens, mouth dropping open slightly, cock twitching as your pussy sucks his fingers in.

“I see you-“ you begin to choke out but he shakes his head, crooking his fingers up into your g-spot and cutting you off.

“No baby, tell me what you look like.” He turns his head to kiss the thigh still draped over his shoulder, fingers hooking up and dragging over your g-spot at a painfully slow pace.

“I look, fucked,” you moan when he nibbles at the soft skin his lips just passed over “desperate.”

“Hmm, what else?” He dips his head in to press his swollen, pink lips to your clit, smiling when you squeak weakly “tell me what I want to hear, angel.”

“I look,” you whine again, back arching off the mattress when he takes his fingers out of your fluttering walls in favor of rubbing them over your clit, so gently you’re not even sure you’d be able to feel it if you weren’t so worked up “pretty.”

You watch the back of his head nod in agreement, stroking his fingers over your clit in a lazy circle before dipping down into you once and traveling back up.

“That’s right,” He coos, free hand groping at your tits, thumb brushing over your perked nipple as best as he can through the layers covering your upper body “what makes you so fucking pretty?”

“My mouth,” you whimper, relief washing through your body when he keeps his fingers inside of you “my tits,” your hand reaches to cover his and he smiles up at you, expectant eyes waiting for one more answer “my pussy. You make me feel so pretty, Mark.”

His chin and nose are covered in your slick, moaning at the taste when he licks over his lips, forehead falling weakly onto your pubic bone, rubbing his nose against your throbbing clit as he nods in agreement.

“My gorgeous girl, every part of you is too fucking pretty for me” He moves back to face your body again, taking his fingers from your pussy and replacing your knee over his shoulder, reaching up to meet his other hand on your chest. He palms at your breasts through the dress, shoulders breathing heavily beneath your legs while he curses himself for not at least taking your bra off, dying to tug at your nipples beneath the silky fabric. Sometimes his attempts to edge you become self-torturous, but the way your whole body shivers when he rubs his nose into your clit harder makes it worth it.

You test his patience by pushing at his head, trying to get his mouth back where you want it and he concedes, but let’s go of your breasts to traps both wrists in a single hand. His pink tinged cheeks make your heart skip a beat as you watch him rub his face in your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth eagerly before licking back down into your hole.

“Please, please, please,” you beg and he looks up at you with those pretty brown eyes when he hears your teeth chatter, pulling away with a moan that makes your back arch toward his mouth. He drops your wrists, unable to stop himself from palming over his pants, pre-cum forming a wet spot on the crotch almost as soon as he dropped to his knees for you.

“I got you, baby.” His voice is barely audible over the ringing in your ears. He uses the hand that isn’t on his dick to spread you as far apart as his fingers can manage “fuck, look at that pretty clit.” he’s sure of it now, your clit is literally pulsing, body begging for an orgasm that he can’t wait to taste. He glances up at your shivering figure, straps of your dress fallen off either shoulder, chest rising and falling dangerously quick.

A cool blow of air through his pursed lips surprises your system, entire body spasming as your orgasm hits. You think you hear your boyfriend’s “no fucking way” before his tongue starts fucking eagerly into your dripping pussy, pressure from his nose on your clit making sure the orgasm lasts so long you have to push him away.

“That was fucking incredible, I didn’t even touch you” Mark stands, stripping off his pants and forcing himself into you before you have the chance to take a breath.

“Oh my god,” you gasp at the same time he chokes out “so fucking tight”, making quick work in stripping you to rub his hand over your chest. His head falls back, mouth falling open when the aftershocks of your orgasm make you squeeze around him.

“Kiss, please.” you have pins and needles in your fingers when you lift them to his shoulders, pulling him toward you eagerly to catch his mouth. A sturdy hand cups your cheek, kissing you deeply as he begins to move his hips. His tongue is hot and heavy on yours as he fucks into you, catching every short inhale in his mouth. You want to cry when he pulls away, but are quickly overwhelmed by how fucking good he looks.

His strong chin juts out when he stares down to where his cock slides in and out of you with eyes so heavy you’d think they were closed if he didn’t mumble something about “your pretty pussy was made for me, so fucking wet”. His abs are drawn in tight, your arousal shining on the skin of his lower stomach and you reach out to touch him, dragging your fingers over the dark patch of hair growing below his belt line. He slows his assaulting pace to lean into your touch, grabbing your wrist and drawing your slick soaked fingers up his chest and into his mouth, sucking lewdly and shutting his eyes. His hair is a mess thanks to your desperate hands, sweat dripping down the side of his neck.

“So fucking dirty baby, know I'm addicted to the way you taste,” he grunts, dropping your hand in favor of spreading your legs as far as he can “the way you feel.” He slows his hips almost to a stop, dragging his cock out of you intently, listening to the sopping suction sound you make together when he slides back inside just as slow.

“Hear that, pretty baby, how much your pussy needs me?” eyes focused on where the angry, pink head of his cock prods at your entrance “can’t believe you’re real, and you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” you whisper, not trusting your voice “all yours.” his lips pull up smugly, but his eyes shine with adoration as he brings his thumb up to your mouth and watches you eagerly suck on the digit before dragging it down your quivering stomach to land on your clit.

“That’s right,” he can’t help the deep groan that tears from his chest at the look on your face when he starts to rub in smooth circles, your eyes fluttering shut “shit, you’re so fucking pretty. Look at yourself, want you to see what I see.”

He forces your eyes toward the mirror, hips picking up speed again while his thumb stays working over your swollen clit.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum baby. Always make me feel so fucking good.” you moan at his words, thighs clenching around his hips “need you to cum with me, show me that you can take it all.” he practically begs, and you feel white hot pleasure shoot up your spine, the pace of his hips and thumb on your clit working easily with his hot words in your ear.

You make a noise between a moan and a scream, nails leaving indents in his shoulders, grinding your hips up toward his sloppily. His bicep shakes under his weight, fucking into you viciously, eyes focused on the blissed out look on your face that he knows is because of him.

“That’s it, take that fucking cock baby, take it.” all you can hear beneath his words is static sound when you feel him tense before he thrusts into you for a final time.

You can’t even hold your eyes open when he drops to his forearms to grab your flushed cheeks, kissing you lazily, letting you melt into him while he softens inside of you. You hum happily when his soft lips drag over your nose and cheeks, compliments falling on ringing ears and for a second Mark is nervous that he broke you.

“You okay, baby?” he rubs gently at the mascara smeared under your glazed over eyes and you smile softly up at him with a nod

“So good,” you assure him, lifting your neck to kiss him again and he happily obliges, laughing against your lips as you cage him in with your legs when he tries to pull out, murmuring a genuine “don’t go.” that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Not going anywhere, don’t worry.” he promises.

———

masterlist

#mark smut #mark lee smut #mark fanfiction #mark lee fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct 127 fanfiction

[syrinq]

when you were super heavily into x or y as a kid/dumbass teen, forget about it or like it 'normally' for years on end, and then you heavily get into it again as an adult like you just announced X Or Y Interest... 2!!!!!!!!!!

#aka i've been extremely into flight rising & littlest pet shop again for the past. month and december. here we go LOL #sy.txt #god fuckin knows i go fucking feral for sparkledragons and ancient plastic bobble heads or whatever #time to do throwback thursday and go into my tumblypoo history and look at my past self like i'm researching a creature #THE LIVE LAUGH LOVE AESTHETIC. IT HURTS!!!!!! IT HURTS!!!!!

[uyuuma]

“ YOU DON'T HAVE TO PRETEND ”

jjk!men x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. jjk men's reaction to you faking your orgasm. because real men make sure that you finish first (among numerous times) .

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, cunnilingus, fingering, toy use, use of pet names, biting, orgasm denial, choking, mentions of overstim, etc.

❥ a/n. writing some shorter form stories for the ADHD girlies (aka me) also writing this for the girlies who struggle to finish from someone else's hands (aka me again)

❥ wc. 3.4k

──★ 𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚄 𝙶𝙾𝙹𝙾

Gojo looked at you with a puzzled expression as you panted heavily. His confused expression turned into a slight grin as he pulled his sopping wet fingers out of your cunt.

"Princess, you don't have to lie to me." He cooed, moving his other hand to cup your cheek softly.

He climbed on top of you, caging you against the bed. His silky white hair falling over his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous body.

"I'll always make sure you cum first." Gojo soothed, wiping some of the sweat off of your forehead. "There's no need to rush, I want you to enjoy every second of this."

"H-how'd you know that I-"

"I can always tell." Gojo blurted before you could finish your sentence. "I'm not sure how many men had let you down before me, but you can stop putting up an act with me." Gojo assured with a slight chuckle.

Your face heats up, seeing his bright blue eyes peer into your soul as he waits quietly.

"Okay?" He asked, his eyes unwavering from yours.

"Okay." You murmured, pussy still aching from his touch.

"Good girl." He smiled, kissing you on the forehead. He then sent his hand to glide against your soft stomach, down to your twitching pelvis.

"Let's try this again, this time no pretending." Gojo said teasingly, fingers already parting your slick folds.

You gave a slight nod at his words but quickly gasped after feeling his slender fingers enter you once more. He buries his middle and ring finger to the knuckle and curls them ever so slightly, making sure to massage you tight walls.

Your eager hips buck against his wrist, wanting that ever-elusive orgasm that men had failed to get you to reach before. You realized that Gojo was very different from your past partners, he actually took his time to find every spot that made you twitch and spasm uncontrollably. The places inside you that made you whimper and cry out his name. He truly understood your body and its needs and was willing to give himself an arm workout if it meant you cumming all over his fingers.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head from him moving his free hand to rub circles around your sensitive clit. His fingers pumped in and out of your soaking pussy rapidly, helping you build up that wonderful pressure in your core. His thumb swirled atop your bud causing you to instinctively rock your hips to the rhythm. This, combined with the dizzying pace of his fingers stroking your sweet spot, made you reach your limit.

You arched your spine suddenly, violently shaking as you threw your head back. It felt as if the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders as waves of your orgasm came crashing down.

"C-cumming!" You sobbed out, this time really meaning it. Your knees buckled and your hands latched onto the sheets, your knuckles turning white from the sheer power of your grip.

Gojo watched as you became completely undone by his hands and grinned in satisfaction. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, letting you ride out your high as long as possible.

"Good girl." He preened. "See, I knew you were a vocal one." He said in a sly tone.

"Now, how about my turn?" Gojo asked as he slid his underwear down, revealing a fluffy patch of white from below his belt.

──★ 𝚂𝚄𝙶𝚄𝚁𝚄 𝙶𝙴𝚃𝙾

Geto raised his brow in suspicion as you twitched and whined against his tongue. Your rapid breathing and shaky voice tried to make it seem like you came, but it was not fooling Geto.

"Are we acting all of the sudden?" Geto scoffed as you softly let go of his hair. He looked up at you from between your legs. His eyes narrowed when your gaze met his.

"W-what are you talking about?" You muttered, propping yourself up against the pillow.

"Well with how over-the-top your acting was it felt like I was in a porno." Geto jokes, his hands still holding onto the plush of your thighs.

Ooh, busted.

"Sorry Sugu, I just didn't want to make you wait forever." You confessed shamefully, your eyes looking away from him.

"I'd wait however long it took for you to cum all over my tongue, sweetheart." Geto comforted you, his hand reaching to brush against your flushed cheeks.

"Your pleasure is just as important as mine, never forget that baby." Geto's voice sounded like honey as he gave you a reassuring smile.

"Are you sure? It takes me a while to cum..." You asked with a slight pout. You weren't sure if he could actually eat you out for that long without getting sick of waiting.

"Well, if you focused more on your orgasm instead of worrying about me, you'd probably feel a lot better." Geto scolded you with a somewhat annoyed expression on his face.

"Okay, okay. I'll focus on myself this time." You surrendered, feeling the cold air blow against your exposed cunt. The saliva that he had previously left on you made you shiver.

"Good, now lay down and relax." Geto instructed, parting your legs so that he could continue where he left off.

Geto took a second to admire your cute little pussy before he sunk his slick tongue back into your warmth. The way you tasted made his body tingle, he couldn't help but get messy when it came to eating you out.

He used both of his thumbs to spread your cunt, giving him access to your hole, stuffing his tongue as deep as it could go. His tongue expertly thrusted into you, making you arch your back from the sensation. You could feel his hot breath against your clit as he tongue-fucked you for all you were worth.

You had no idea someone could be this skilled with just their tongue, but here you were. You could no longer control your bottom half as you writhed in absolute bliss. Your thighs definitely would've clenched around his head if his grip on you wasn't so strong.

Your eyes fluttered as you bit your lip, the sensation of your orgasm starting to build up. Your thoughts were no longer filled with worries, all you could think about now was how sweet that release was going to feel.

"Mmh, fuck..." You slurred out, your legs quivering from the immense pleasure. You swore you could pass out from how amazing he was making you feel.

He started to thumb your clit carefully, being tactful to find the perfect rhythm for you. When he heard your pants and whines become louder, he knew to continue with his unrelenting pace.

He groaned against your cunt, absolutely obsessed with the way you tasted and sounded. He wanted more of it, he needed more of it.

His tongue plunged sloppily into your hole, his drool running down your thighs and cunt, collecting onto the sheets.

He felt no shame devouring you, in fact it turned him on more that you were making a complete mess of his face. He almost forgot that the whole point was to make you cum, he was just having fun at this moment.

However, your abrupt squeal and the iron grip you had on his hair brought him back to reality. He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes and saw your face contorting in ecstasy. The way your mouth hung open as a silent scream was caught in your throat, it made him smile. This was a real orgasm, you didn't need to say anything to convince him that.

Your body tensed as you came down from your high and then went limp in an instant. Your dazed expression made Geto grin, he was so proud of you for finishing.

Geto wiped the slick from his mouth and got up to crawl over you. "Good job, baby." He praised while hovering over you.

"Since you're already nice and prepped, let's take care of this." Geto said, referring to his painfully hard erection. You looked down to see that he was ready for round two, precum already dripping onto your thigh.

──★ 𝙲𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙾 𝙺𝙰𝙼𝙾

Something didn't seem right about how you shuddered under his touch. He could sense a bit of apprehension in your body movements. Your mouth may have told him you came, but your body betrayed that sentiment.

"I want to make you actually cum." Choso remarked disappointingly. His fingers were skilled and he did make you feel wonderful, but you were really tense and he needed to figure out how to get you to relax more.

"What do you mean, Cho?" You asked sheepishly, your eyes giving away the truth to him.

"Babe, I know you didn't really cum. Your body is as stiff as a board." Choso observed how you looked away in guilt as he said that.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little nervous. But, I wanted you to know that I'm still enjoying it either way." You admitted finally. You picked at your nails unknowingly, trying to find a way to break the tension.

"It's okay baby, we can take this at your own pace." Choso responded sweetly, he reached up to pet your head. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and comforted you a little more.

His caresses and soft lips help you control your breathing a little more. You took a deep breath to release the nervousness within your body.

"Tell me, how do you normally get yourself to cum?" Choso questioned politely. His eyes lovingly scanned your expression to see if your demeanor has changed.

"Normally, I use my vibrator." You responded meekly, you could feel your face heat up from the confession of using a toy.

"Can you show me?" Choso insisted, his tired eyes gazed into yours.

"Okay." You agreed, turning over to dig through your nightstand. You found your bullet vibrator and held the button down to power it on. It buzzed quietly on the lowest setting, Choso's eyes following it as you moved.

You moved it so that it could pulse against your clit. The way you jolted from the sudden stimulation made Choso watch intensely. He was enamored with the way your body reacted to such a small toy.

Choso then slid his fingers against yours while you held the vibrator steady against your clit. He wrapped his fingers around it, indicating he wanted to hold it for you.

You let go and instinctively cover your mouth with that same hand. Seeing his eyes hungrily watch your trembling body made you feel so vulnerable. But it felt so good this time, not as nerve wracking as before. Perhaps it was because the vibrator made you loosen up.

Choso turned up the toy to the next level, the buzzing becoming slightly louder. You whimpered in response to this and it made him smile in success.

You could feel heat build in your core, a familiar and very welcomed sensation that made your thoughts fade to nothing. All that was on your mind now was the handsome man between your legs.

Your eyes closed as you focused on the intoxicating high you were on. This was short lived however, since the lewd feeling of his tongue dragging against your thigh made your eyes widen. You gasped, looking down at Choso.

Choso lovingly kissed and licked your right thigh, his arm wrapped around it as your calf dangled behind his shoulder. His right hand steadily pushed the toy against your throbbing clit, applying a pressure so heavenly you swore you started to see clouds.

Your whines and desperate moans were like music to his ears, it made Choso turn up the toy once more.

You shuddered, feeling the vibrations start to reverberate in your spine. It was enough to make your jaw go slack, your breathing much more audible.

Choso nipped at your flesh, making you squeak from the sudden shock. You looked down to see a little hickey left on your inner thigh. It was so fucking hot that you babbled out to Choso, begging him to continue.

He heard you loud and clear, this time sinking his teeth fully into your skin. This bite felt less sharp, but it covered much more space than the first nip. It made you mewl so beautifully, he was becoming drunk off of your moans.

He continued to bite and suck at your supple flesh, leaving bruises and bitemarks along your inner thighs. The twinge of pain mixed with the pleasure from the vibrator made your babbling much more incoherent.

You could feel your orgasm reach the edge, you bit down onto your fist to stop yourself from screaming out Choso's name for the entire neighborhood to hear.

"Gonna cum!" You choked out while biting onto your fingers. Your body convulsed under the immense stimulation, your final squirms made Choso bite down hard. Your head tilted back as you rode your high, you could feel each bite and bruise throb while you cried out his name.

Choso planted a few soft kisses against the teeth marks he left on your plush thigh. He clicked the vibrator off and placed it back on your nightstand.

He admired the work that he had done and how your pussy glistened from all of the slick that you produced. You felt him rest his cock against your sore thigh.

Clearly, he wasn't done yet.

──★ 𝚃𝙾𝙹𝙸 𝙵𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙶𝚄𝚁𝙾

Toji looked at you with an unamused expression as you tried to convince him of your 'very real' orgasm. His eyes looked at you scathingly, like he was done with your shit.

"I was kind enough to getcha all prepped n' shit just for you to go and fake your orgasm?" Toji seethed while giving you a searing glare.

"Ungrateful slut." He smirked, grabbing your jaw with a vice grip. His fingers dug into your cheeks, making your face become sore.

"Mmmshorryy Toji..." You cried out in a panic. You knew better than to try and fool Toji, you were really in for it now.

"So ya think I'm stupid or somethin'? Huh, is that it?" He sneered, your eyes fixated on the scar across his lips. You could see in how the corners of his mouth moved to show his teeth, that he wasn't playing any games with you right now.

"Ffforgib me Toji." You begged out, your cheeks still smushed tight while in his grip.

"I'll think about it. After I punish you for being so greedy." Toji said maliciously, his gritted teeth turning into a wide grin. That grin never meant anything good, for you anyway.

"Since you don't wanna cum so bad... get on top of me." Toji ordered, flipping your positions so that he was laying on his back, sitting up on the pillows, you awkwardly hovering over him.

He hooked his large finger into the waistband of his sweats and in one swift motion slid his pants and underwear down far enough to let his cock free.

His cock was heavy, but still bounced a bit from being constrained. He gave it a few pumps with his own fist and then let it rest against his stomach.

He moved his arms behind his head, letting his elbows point outwards as he rested his arms against the headboard.

"Grind against it." He commanded, watching you hover over his cock with a dumbfounded expression.

You swallowed the saliva stuck in your throat and lowered your cunt so that it rested on Toji's cock. You could feel his cock throb against your clit and it made you whine pathetically.

"Fuck, I can feel you pulse against me. Dirty bitch." Toji groaned as he felt your pussy coat him in your slutty juices. He moved his arm from behind his head to grip onto your waist. His motions were languid and slow, showing how little work he was going to put into this.

"Thought I told you to move." He commented in an irritated tone. He bucked his hips up to get you to wake the fuck up.

You propped yourself up onto your hands and knees on top of him, your hands holding you up against his chiseled abs. You dragged your hips up and down, his thick cock sliding against your slit. Your clit was stimulated from the grinding and it made you shudder in pleasure.

He grunted, watching how your little pussy struggled to just grind against his girth. He could feel himself grow impatient, he wanted to just stuff you full with his cock right now. But that would be letting you win, so he dealt with the urge.

You began to roll your hips, eyes fluttering as you became lost in that tight feeling growing in your stomach. God... it was so close, you could practically feel your release as if it was on the tip of your tongue. Your breathing became rigid as you sunk against Toji.

You gripped onto his shoulders now, eyes darting into the back of your head, your lewd mouth agape as you came close to euphoria. He loved watching you become desperate, rutting against him like a damn puppy in heat.

"God...Toji m'gonna-"

"Nope. You don't get to cum anymore." Toji denied, his face had a sinister expression. He gripped onto your waist, forcefully slowing down your hips.

You let out such a pitiful whine, it almost made him laugh.

"Whine all you want baby, but we're gonna do this till you learned your lesson." Toji assured you.

"Now, beg for me to let you cum." He snickered.

──★ 𝚁𝚈𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚄𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙰

"The fuck was that?" Sukuna barked, not buying into your theatrics for one second.

"Suku, is something the matter?" You stuttered, your heart dropping to your stomach from the shift in his voice alone.

"Do you take me for a fucking fool?" He chided, his hand gripped onto your oversized t-shirt, pulling you up so that your faces could get up and personal.

"Suku... No I-"

"Shut up woman, spare me your pathetic excuses." Sukuna released his grip on your shirt, causing you to fall back onto the bed.

You could feel your breath become caught in your throat, knowing he wasn't letting this transgression slide.

"Did you really think of me as one of your miserable, inadequate partners from before?" Sukuna sneered, obviously offended by the very insinuation.

"I could get you to cum 100 times before anyone could even manage once." He boasted, his brows furrowed into a scowl. How dare you underestimate the King of Curses like that.

You knew better than to interrupt him when he was irritated. So you kept your lips sealed, only nodding or shaking your head in response to his bellowing.

"In fact, that's a great idea isn't it?" Sukuna asked in a husky tone. His scowl turned into an evil smirk as a plan hatched in his head.

"Why don't we make you cum so many times that you pass out? Maybe then you'd understand how easily your body crumbles under my touch." Sukuna spoke aloud. Though it seemed as if he was speaking to you, it was more like him vocalizing his inner thoughts. You knew you had no real say in the matter.

It wasn't long until he was stuffing your pussy full of his giant fingers. Just two was enough to stretch you out, your walls being massaged in short and quick bursts. He pumped his fingers at an almost inhuman pace, you lost count of how many times you came by now.

Your legs couldn't keep up with his thrusts, they just dangled uselessly off of the sides of the bed. You lost count of time, you weren't sure if it had been ten minutes or three hours at this point.

All you knew was that the grip Sukuna kept on your throat as he fucked you stupid made you become lightheaded.

He squeezed your throat just enough to make you choke on your sobs and pleas for him to slow down, but not hard enough to make you pass out. No, that was too good for you, you deserved to keep cumming until you physically couldn't anymore.

Your voice became hoarse, raspy whines being let out each time you inevitably orgasmed again and again.

"Aren't I so generous? My little whore disobeyed me and yet I still rewarded her precious body with my touch." Sukuna gloated, watching your hazy eyes and shallow breathing in satisfaction.

"So...generous." You sputtered, words barely coherent at all.

Although his methods may be relentless, Sukuna was very generous. He gave you more than anyone else had ever before.

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #female reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader

[whimsyprinx]

as the only person in this house who isn’t sick and isn’t 5 I’ve taken it upon myself to be even more helpful

#whimsy whispers #aka just doing basic tasks #I did most the dishes and am waiting for those to dry so I can put them away and do the rest #changed the cat litter and finished making tea and fed the cats that hadn’t been fed yet #I need to do my own laundry later when the washer is free and doesn’t apparently smell of kerosene #I’m very much debating going back to sleep #Kane came over to get some stuff and leave since they can’t stay over because they don’t wanna be sick #and me and one other person thought we imagined it #had it not been for the little gift from arsyn that kane brought me I would have thought it was a dream #fluffy has consistently stayed glued to me for days it’s v sweet #I don’t think she’s doing it because she knows I’m a sad mentally ill bitch I think she just wants love and pets but it’s nice having a cat #next to your face every time you wake up #actually this time she slept behind my head on my stack of pillows

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

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