#i think i just need extra time to wrap my head around certain stuff

[blueicequeen19]

The Storm

Warnings: loss of a loved one, grieving, drinking, drug use, rough unprotected sex

It's been six hours since we lost John B and Sarah to the tropical storm. Since Shoupe and his gang of idiots told us they didn't know anything or where they were. They couldn't find their bodies or the boat. My throat threatens to close up just thinking about it. I don't think I could cry anymore even if I wanted to. Pope and Kie were forced to return home with their parents whereas JJ stayed with me at the Chateau. I knew it was because he had no place else to go. I wouldn't return home to Luke Maybank either. So we sat on the couch and drank until we vomited. Then we drank some more. I'd never seen JJ cry and I quickly decided that I never wanted to see it again. It made our loss that much more real. That much more painful. How could we go back to our lives after this? School was supposed to start Monday. I snatched up the bottle of rum before I could think any further. I didn't want to do anything without my brother.

I look over to the snoring blonde next to me. His legs were pulled up and his feet tucked under my legs for warmth as he used the arm rest as a pillow. I was fairly certain he was drooling but I had no room to judge. I had to clean puke out of my hair earlier. I get up and wander down the hall to Bree's room. The smell of him hits me hard when I push the door open and tears immediately fill my eyes. I wanted to break something. Anything. This couldn't be happening. And what he said on the radio to Ward? That meant this shit wasn't over. Ward Cameron had to pay. I grab his comforter off his bed and shut the door behind me. I stumble down the hall and wrap myself in the comforter before dropping down on my bed for a long, much needed sleep to escape this nightmare.

I don't know how much time has passed when I finally peel my eyes open. I don't feel any better. My head is still groggy and aching and my mouth is beyond dry. I manage to pull myself up and take a shower, taking extra time to wash my hair and brush my teeth. At least I could make myself look put together even though my life was ruined. I rake my hands through my hair, stepping out of the bathroom to find JJ in the middle of changing, his bare ass on full display.

"Whoa, sorry." I immediately turned around, the image of his ass forever burned into my brain. JJ stays silent. My heart ached even more. I hated when other people were hurting, even if I was in pain myself. "Do you want pancakes?" I ask.

"No." JJ grumbles. I sigh. He needed to eat. So did I. There's more rummaging through things behind me when he suddenly brushes past me and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door in my face. I turn back to face the bedroom. I slept in his room last night, thinking it was my own. That's why he was changing in here.

I decide to make pancakes anyway and although he ignores them, I feel better having them ready when he does get hungry. The day drags on and JJ only comes inside to get more alcohol. I hide his keys for when he does run out. I liked getting fucked up as much as the next person but I knew we had to deal. We had to grieve.

It's dark when he comes inside, stumbling to stay upright. I watch from the couch as he goes to the table and looks for his keys. Next he checks the cabinets in case he missed a bottle. Then the fridge.

"Where are my keys?" JJ calls. I stay silent as I pop a handful of popcorn into my mouth. He comes back into the living room and throws his hands up. "Give me my keys."

"I don't have them." I lie. They were stuffed down in the couch beneath me.

"Yea? They just got up and walked away?" JJ demands, knocking stuff off the coffee table as he searches it too.

"Stop it." I say softly but he yanks my bowl of popcorn away and lifts my legs up like I'm sitting on them. "Stop it!" I squeal, swatting his hands away.

"I don't need you to take care of me. Give me my fucking keys!" JJ shouts.

"You can't drive like this. You've been drinking all day!"

"I don't care!" We both fall silent as we glare at each other, chests heaving with every breath.

"Fine," he finally say, tossing the bowl down on the couch with a scoff. ",don't get mad at me when I start bringing girls over because I can't leave." JJ turns and stomps off, slamming his bedroom door behind him. I plop down on the couch, running my fingers through my hair as I fight to calm my racing heart.

Sex sounded amazing. I wanted to feel anything but this. Anything but the loss of my brother. I look under the coffee table and spot the adult card game that one of us had bought. It was basically "Never Have I Ever" with prompts. Whoever ended up with the most cards, won. I open the game and start to read the cards, snorting at the filthier ones. I was bored so why the hell not?

Never have I ever had an orgy.

Given oral sex.

Messed around in a public place.

Spit in someones mouth.

I started to separate the cards by things I had and had not done. I don't even look up when I hear his door open and he sits on the opposite side of the couch from me with a grunt. He smelled better so he must’ve showered to sober up.

"Why are you laughing?" JJ asks, leaning forward and reading some of the cards in my "Have Not" pile.

"I'm playing Never Have I Ever with myself." I smirk, holding up my next card.

Never have I ever had sex with other people in the room.

I drop the card in my Have pile and his eyes nearly bug out.

"What?! When? With who?" JJ gasps dramatically.

"Uh, that movie night we had awhile back when I invited Jake."

"Wait. You had sex with all of us in the same room?"

"It wasn't really sex though. He just put it inside me. So it kind of counts." JJ hangs his head as he shakes it in an attempt to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Wow. I never would've guessed." JJ grumbles, grabbing the next unplayed card.

"What? I like sex as much as the next person." JJ ignores me as he shows me the next card.

Never have I ever woken up to someone giving me head.

"Uh, I've never had that happen to me but I've done that to someone else." I laugh and JJ smirks.

"You're missing out. All girls should wake up to their pussies being eaten." A shiver races up my spine as he draws the next card.

Never have I ever taken a nude selfie.

"Oh, easy. I have a whole folder on my phone." I shrug nonchalantly and JJ's jaw hangs open.

"Show me. For research purposes." JJ gives a fake cough and I can't help but laugh.

"Absolutely not! Those are private!" I exclaim but he laughs, pulling out his phone.

"Here, I'll show you one and you show me one. You did just see my ass earlier."

"Not by choice!" JJ scrolls through his phone for a moment before pausing to look at me.

"Okay, I've got mine. Your turn." I pick up my phone and hesiate for a moment.

"Wait, so are we doing full body. Or like topless?" I could feel the burning in my cheeks but I wasn't backing down from this. I wasn't a coward.

"Mine is full body." JJ shrugs and I nod. I find the perfect picture and meet his eyes.

"Okay, on the count of three. One. Two. Three." We both turn our phones to the other and both of our eyes practically bug out. He's nude but he's cupping himself so you can't see his dick and mine is from the back so you can see my bare ass. Still nude but nothing anyone hasn't already seen when I go swimming. We both burst out laughing over the fact that we played each other and we continued the game as he lights up a joint.

“I’ve never had one.” JJ says, hanging the card back to me.

Never have I ever had a hickie.

I gawk at him.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yea! I always give them. I never receive them. Girls are usually too fucked out to return them.” He gives me a cocky grin. I stand, rising to the challenge.

“I’ll help you out then. Neck or chest?” I move around the table and JJ stares at me with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. I roll my eyes as I straddle his lap, tugging his shirt down below his collarbone. “Neck or chest, J?” I whisper and I feel him gulp, goosebumps appearing across his skin. A certain power comes over me as I plant a kiss on the base of his throat and he hums in approval. I trail my lips up his neck when I suddenly feel his hands squeeze my thighs.

“I-uh, I don’t know what I’ll do if you suck on my neck. It’s my sweet spot.” JJ’s voice is deeper, thick with need and causes butterflies to erupt in my belly.

“Here?” I place a kiss just below his ear and he nods once, hands tightening on my thighs. I suddenly feel his his erection pressing against me and it fueled me further. He wanted this too. I bite down on the flesh and he gasps as I suck a small spot into my mouth.

“Jesus, fuck!” JJ exclaims, hands moving to fist the back of my shirt, like he’s holding me to him. I tug hard on the back of his hair, forcing him to look up at the ceiling and he hisses as I keep marking his skin. His hips buck up into me and I moan.

“Y/N, stop before I do something I’ll regret.” JJ warns, yanking on the back of my hair but I don’t let up. I move my hand to the front of his throat and squeeze. I immediately feel his body relax into the couch but it doesn’t last long. JJ jumps to his feet, startling me as he holds me in his arms just to turn and drop me down on the couch. There’s fire burning in his eyes and a nice purple mark on his neck.

“You asked for this.” JJ growls, dropping to his knees and hauling my ass to the edge of the couch. He immediately latches on to my inner thigh where my shorts have rode up, his free hand squeezing the other one. Sparks race all the way down to my toes as my body buzzes with desire. I tear my shirt off and my bra, loving the way his eyes drink me in as he yanks off my shorts. I take his shirt off next and pull him up onto the couch. I feel him holding back, a questionable look on his face as I palm him through his shorts.

“Talk to me, J.” I breathe, kissing his jaw and his lips quiver.

“You’re my best friends sister. This is wrong.” JJ whispers, his fingers sliding through my slit and he groans when he feels how wet I am.

“Does it feel wrong?” I pop the button on his shorts and our lips finally meet. The last of his restraint dissolves and he shoves his shorts down, his body coming down on top of mine.

“I want you.” I moan as he starts to pull away again and a painful noice rumbles through him.

“I want you too.” JJ whispers between wet tongue filled kisses. I stroke his impressive length for a second and he hisses, bucking in my hand.

“Let’s just forget for a little while. I want to feel something else. I want to feel you inside me. Only that.” I squeeze him harder and he hisses, rubbing his fingers lazily over my clit and making me jerk.

“Condom?” JJ asks, caging me in with his arms as he hovers over me. I line him up with my entrance, keeping my legs spread wide. This was probably going to hurt with no prep but I wanted it to. I welcomed the pain.

“On the shot.” He doesn’t hesitate before he roughly pushes inside me. We both moan loudly.

His cock fills me so deeply, it steals my breath away. I must pinch my face up in discomfort because he starts to withdraw and gives slow strokes. I grasp his biceps, tilting my hips so he can drive even deeper. I start to relax and he begins to pick up the pace, jaw clenched the entire time as he looks from my face to between us where he's disappearing inside me.

"You're so tight." JJ bites out, hair in his eyes.

"Harder," I plead. "Don't stop." He abruptly sits back on his heels, pulling me with him as he angles upwards to hit my sweet spot. JJ groans, throwing his head back as he fucks me harder, keeping a brusing grip on my hips.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum but I'll keep going." JJ moans before picking up his speed, drilling into me hard and fast before releasing a loud moan of ecstasy. His pace doesn't slow and I feel myself cum, throwing my head back as I scream, my body shuddering as I turn to mush. He collapses on top of me, kissing me hard and passionately while continuing to snap his hips forward. I snag him bottom lip between my teeth as I feel another climax quickly approaching. JJ yanks away, only to flip me over and manhandle me onto my hands and knees. A firm hand on the back of my head shoves my face down into the cushion before he slams back inside me.

"Oh, shit." I cry, reaching behind me for something to hold on to. He pulls both my arms behind my back as he slams into me harder and harder, forcing my face down into the couch. I could feel the mess running down my thighs and I yelp when he slaps my ass hard.

"JJ!" I whine. I feel my eyes start to roll back just as he yanks me up against his chest, one hand around my throat and the other pushing down on my pelvis.

"Cum for me. I'm not stopping until you cream my cock. Let me fucking have it." JJ growls into my ear. I try to fight it but a choked scream flies out as I cum hard, soaking us both with a gush of fluid, my nails digging into his hips as tears fill my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

I feel him slam in hard once more then he stills with a satisfied groan before letting me drop back down on the couch to catch my breath. JJ pulls away and starts to clean up as I fight the powerful feeling of exhaustion. He appears in front of me in a pair of black boxers and scoops me into his arms with a satisfied smirk before leading us to his bedroom.

"I told you. Completely fucked out." I smile weakly with my cheek against his chest as he lays me down in his bed. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm out.

#jj maybank smut #smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #rudy pankow #wattpad #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank sex

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Happy Holidaze║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| HAPPY HOLIDAZE | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor (Roxy)

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 9.7k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, diet culture, awkward conversations and situations with your parents, fluff with dash of smut at the end, two idiots in love who are disgusting sluts for each other

| SYNOPSIS: You and Joel finally meet each other's families.

✧this is the fifth installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

nail color? You text the question along with a picture of the wall of options in front of you. getting a pedi too so pick two The text bubble pops up then disappears for a moment before reappearing again.

You want it to match holiday stuff or whatever? I’m not an expert at this stuff. Don’t know if there’s unspoken rules or something.

You roll your eyes and smile down at your phone. Joel was older, old enough to not always get the social implications of certain situations, especially in the dating world - not that the two of you were officially dating or anything - situations, like asking a man to pick out what color you should get your nails done.

don’t need an expert

A playful grin warms your features as you type out a few extra snippets and hit send.

just need to know what color you wanna see on my nails 

you know, for when you’re watching me grab your dick and stroke it later

You bite back a smile, teeth tucked into your bottom lip, as you wait for a reply. As expected, the text bubble flashes and disappears on the screen repeatedly. You can vividly picture Joel texting you back in a frenzy over your flirty message. You relished in getting him worked up sometimes, knowing you could get him absolutely feral to the point that he’d just rip his clothes off the second he got through the door and fuck the living daylights out of you.

You stifle a laugh when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. Of course he’s given up on trying to text you back and is just calling you instead.

“Yyyeesssssss?” you draw out in an innocent voice.

“Goddamn you can’t just send me shit like that when I’m at work, baby.” His husky voice is clear even as it passes through the somewhat scratchy receiver.

“What’s the matter, Joel? Those big ass Wreck It Ralph hands of yours couldn’t type the words fast enough?” you tease. Joel’s deep laugh on the other end of the line makes your belly feel like a swarm of butterflies are about to burst through your throat.

“How the fuck did I end up with a brat like you, huh?” he chuckles.

You hum a laugh in reply and wait patiently for him to answer your original question.

“Alright, brat. Lemme think.” He makes small, thoughtful noises as you tilt your head and scan the wall. When he makes a low, throaty noise, you sniff a laugh through your nose.

“Okay, if you are actually picturing what the color will look like while I’m … doing that–” you pause, glancing around the nail salon as if an eavesdropper would somehow immediately know what sort of filth you were exchanging “–you’re gonna get sent to HR when somebody sees you all bricked up at work.”

Joel laughs again. He’d laughed every time you said “bricked up” since you taught him the expression several months ago.

“Alright, alright. Red. I want ‘em to be red,” he decides.

“Okay. And my toes?”

He makes a weird noise on the other end, and you roll your eyes. You know exactly what he’s thinking about.

“No, you will NOT have to picture what color my toes would look like wrapped around your–” you cut yourself off when you catch a curious, disapproving look from an older woman in a chair nearby getting a manicure. Joel busts out in a belly laugh, understanding that you were probably talking too loud and got a look from somebody.

“Hm, I dunno, baby. Never been into that, but who knows. Might be my new thing if you’re the one doin’ it. I like everythin’ you do,” he murmurs. It sounds like he’s cupped his hands against his mouth and the microphone so he could talk without getting noticed like you had. 

“Joel,” you warn with no real weight behind it.

“And besides, even if it ain’t a footjob situation, you know I like gettin’ those things up on my shoulders when I’m fuckin’ you senseless.” His voice is quieter now, but it’s less to do with volume and more to do with the raspy, lewd bend to his words.

“I just know I’m going to regret teaching you this, but there’s actually a name for that,” you say low, cupping your own hand into the receiver now so you could speak without catching another disapproving glance.

“Oh?” He sounds excited, as he always does whenever you introduce him to these kinds of things. Slang. How to hide photos from his main camera roll. How to work the remote on the TV. Turns out dating someone younger had its benefits - not that the two of you were dating or anything.

“Mmmhmmm. It’s kinda like the one I told you before. The ‘your hands would make a nice necklace’ thing. So yeah, you’d say ‘I wanna wear your ankles for earrings’ or, like, ‘I’m gonna make your ankles my earrings.’”

“Damn, maybe your generation ain’t so bad after all,” he chuckles. “Certainly come up with some handy terms, I’ll give ya that much.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you giggle. “Like you’re that much older than me. Give me a break.”

He chuckles. You hear some yelling in the background on his end and then his muffled response to whoever it was that he’d “be right there.”

“Alright, honey. I gotta go. Lemme see. Alright. Toes. Hhhmm. How ‘bout blue? Like those one pair of panties I like’a yours,” he decides.

You smile. You know exactly the pair he’s talking about.

“Mmm’kay. Only ‘cuz I like you so much,” you hum.

“Yeah, you sure do like me ‘n these Wreck It Ralph hands. Don’t mind ‘em when they’re fingerin’ your–”

“Hanging up now,” you snip playfully.

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ when I yell ‘I’M GONNA WRECK IT’ when I’m balls deep in you tonight,” he hurries out before you can end the call.

“GOODBYE, JOEL. And you better not!” you snicker. “Talk about a turn off. I’d cut you off for a month.”

“Bullshit. You couldn’t go a month without me. Without my–” he laughs, not getting to finish before you cut him off.

“GOOD. BYE.” you huff in a giggle.

“Bye, baby. See you tonight,” he laughs easy before making some exaggerated kissy noises and hanging up.

You shake your head, trying to keep from erupting in laughter. This man was an absolute mess and full on dork, and you loved every second of it. You nab a seasonal red and a panty blue and wait to be called. You dutifully ignore the eavesdropper from before as she glances your way a few times. It wasn’t very hard to divert your attention with all the giddy, bubbly feelings surging through you. Joel made an outstanding distraction in plenty of ways, and you find yourself smiling like a love-struck puppy most of the time because of him. He really felt like the best thing that had ever happened to you.

He was wrong when he’d said “you couldn’t go a month without me” during your call. The truth was, you couldn’t go without him, period. He had become so naturally ingrained into your life that it felt strange to think of what it had been like without him. It just felt right that you existed in tandem. It was hard to separate how you felt and what you “knew.”

You knew you were in a casual “situationship” that neither one of you sought to define in any certain terms. You felt as though spending practically every night together, going on a weekend getaway together, and neither one of you pursuing anything outside of each other was decidedly more in the “serious, committed relationship” category.

You knew that it was a “textbook mistake” to jump from an almost decade-long failed relationship into a new, serious one. It wasn’t in line with what you were “supposed to do” after such a big change, which conventionally involved something along the lines of “playing the field for a while” and “just having some fun” while getting back out there. But your heart had decided that you were going to abandon all sense and become involved with the first guy you had a meaningful interaction with post-breakup.

So, here you are, just several months out of a heartbreaking split from somebody you were supposed to marry, and completely head over heels with someone new who felt too good to be true. You can’t think of a time in your life that you’ve been happier, so why did it feel so petrifying to just lean into the obvious? Why couldn’t you just yield to the undeniable, consuming magnetic connection between you and Joel?

He so often seemed to hold back for your sake, never wanting to push you past your comfort zone or ask too much of you too fast. Biting his tongue at times that you could’ve sworn he’d nearly slipped and said the “big L” to you and caught himself at the last moment. Just a miracle of a man who was patiently waiting you out, waiting for you to give in to it all and accept what was clearly happening. Admitting that, as crazy as it seemed and felt, the two of you were in love, and one of you needed to make the first move towards the next step. The definitive kind of step that makes this “casual fling” into a real relationship.

Something or someone was bound to give, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready for what that brings.

Your parents had booked the cruise long before your engagement was broken off. It was a dream of theirs to go on the two week long journey, spanning several continents and all of the major winter holidays you celebrated. Naturally you’d insisted that they don’t cancel on account of your bad bit of luck. At least somebody’s year was going like they thought it would, and it felt wrong to ask them to cancel the vacation they’d been talking about since forever.

That, and the fact that you were relieved to have a valid reason for attending Thanksgiving with your parents instead of going with Joel for a quick trip to see Sarah during her college break. Even though he’d asked in an offhand way if you’d want to go with him and meet her, you could tell he’d very much wanted you to say yes. Of course you wanted to meet her and share in Joel’s life that way, but it was a major shift into the “real, defined relationship” category – the kind where you had a title attached to your name when you were introduced to their family. 

It’s how you found yourself currently sat in your parents’ kitchen, poking around on the appetizer tray, while your mom busied herself with the normal fare in addition to “lower calorie alternatives” you were no doubt expected to choose if the quantities of each offering was anything to go by. You watch your mom slice impossibly thin pieces of cheese for the crackers and wonder if you should’ve just sucked it up and gone with Joel. Then again, you’d have to offer some sort of reason for missing out on a major holiday with your family. It was a catch 22.

“Roxy, don’t eat so many appetizers. I know it’s a holiday and all, but don’t go overboard,” your mom offers with genuine kindness that stings just as bad as if she’d meant to hurt you. You set the cheese slice and cracker combo back onto your plate. You knew you were stress eating from all the nerves about the possibility of the “how’s your love life”  conversation, but you surprised yourself by only realizing you were taking so many bites after your mom pointed it out.

You’d stopped being so vigilant with every morsel of food that passed through your mouth. You ate most of your meals with Joel, and you weren’t self-conscious about eating around him or in front of him like you always were with most people. It was a hard habit to break, to not be so focused on pacing yourself, matching your rate of intake with others so you didn’t look like a pig chowing down and wiping your plate clean before everyone else had finished.

Joel was a good cook, and he often brought you bites to test or little plates of this and that to tide you over before the whole meal was done. You weren’t even embarrassed when he’d feed you pieces of popcorn while you watched movies together, snuggled up together on the couch. He’d chomp a few pieces down himself and then pop a few kernels into your mouth, always attentive. Just like he was with everything when it came to you.

But here in your childhood home, listening to your mom’s offhand comments about your intake, it brought you right back into all those years of shame and guilt. You knew she meant well. She always had. Never wanting you to struggle the same way she did, years and years of diets and exercise regimens and restriction. She’d dropped a lot of weight since taking up Weight Watchers, and you were happy for her. She was always nicer and more relaxed when she’d hit those lower ends of the yo-yoing. All the more uptight and anxious the moment her weight crept back up again.

Your dad didn’t seem to care either way what she looked like, but it was a bit of accidental negative reinforcement that he liked interacting with her a whole lot more when she was nicer to him and everybody else. It just so happened that was only when her jeans didn’t fit so tight and the numbers weren’t too frightening on the scale. She’d no doubt come to internalize the dynamic and equate her lower weight with better interactions and a more fulfilling relationship with your dad, never even realizing it was the way she interacted with him and others that brought about those pleasant times and not what size she had to pull from the rack.

“Awfully quiet, Rox,” your dad notes.

You look over to find him studying you with those astute eyes. He was never much of a talker, but god could he communicate so much with a look or a gesture. Your mother on the other hand–

“Yeah, hon. Please don’t spend the day thinking about that awful, awful man.” You suppose your unusual quiet could most readily be explained by all the feelings that might come about spending your first major holiday out of a relationship for the first time in almost ten years. You aren’t sure which is worse: that hypothetical explaining your silence, or the truth, which was an over the moon sort of romance that you couldn’t talk about yet.

“I’m not thinking about Michael,” you mumble petulantly. You didn’t want to give him any sort of win, even if he wasn’t around to know about it.

“Y’seem distracted,” your dad says plainly.

He’s watching you with those eyes that say he already knows something is up, but he doesn’t know enough to speak on it yet. Your gut pinches. It won’t take him long to figure it out. It never does if he’s got his mind set to something. It was a trait you’d always admired and envied. You shrug off his observation, but your mom isn’t so quick to let it go.

“You’ll get to a place where you can put yourself back out there, hon. I just know it. You’re a resilient girl, and you’re not going to let that loser change that,” she sniffs with an air of indignation. It’s hard to imagine this was the same woman who this time last year had been so effusive with compliments and general praise to the same man she was now deeming a loser. Still, the sentiment that he had kneecapped your entire romantic life annoyed you more than it should’ve.

“Who says I’m not ‘back out there’ already?” you grumble to the half empty tray of appetizers.

Your mom jolts like she’d been doused in ice water. Your eyes flit to your dad who gives you a knowing grin. Even though you hadn’t even actually said anything, it felt good to talk about Joel, to acknowledge his existence at least. You feel a sudden urge to just tell your parents everything about Joel. You chug the rest of your red wine to reign yourself in and wait for the onslaught from your mother.

“You’re seeing someone?” she breathes, excitement boiling over.

“Well, I mean… I guess I’ve been, you know, like, talking with somebody,” you say as casually as you can manage.

“Oh? REALLY? Oh! That’s-That’s wonderful, Roxanne!” your mom exclaims, rising to the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together quietly. “How long have you been seeing each other? Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“Take it easy, will ya, Melissa? She didn’t say it was anything serious,” your dad mutters. 

For all his faults, your dad at least grasped the concept that the dating world had changed significantly since he and your mom got together, and it was no longer the kind of landscape where you were “going steady” with the same person after two successful dates. Your mom, on the other hand, struggled with the concept of casual anything when it came to relationships.  A romantic at heart, she was always the type to believe in the sorts of things like twin flames, finding your soulmate in every universe, and so on.

You snort to yourself, considering how you were a perfect blend of the two. The logical, practical side of you knowing that you and Joel hadn’t defined your relationship with any specific terms, but you were mutually exclusive. A noncommittal sort of committal. The bleeding heart side of you knowing good and well that you were in love with him. It was the stuff of romcoms, the type that you’d make Joel watch with you on the weekends when it was your turn to pick the movie. The kind that he pretended to be annoyed by but never truly complained about and never made you feel like a mawkish idiot when you’d cry at the sappy payoff in the overwrought finale.

“Oh, shut up, Robert,” your mom snips. “I just meant I wanted to know more about him. Don’t act like you don’t, either.” She did her best to be annoyed with your dad, but she broke almost immediately when he smirked at her and poked her sides teasingly.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t. Just wasn’t gonna push her, dearest,” he mocks half-heartedly. He swigs a sip of beer and turns back to you.

“Of course we’d love to hear about him, Rox. Wanna know who’s got my little girl’s attention, ya know?” He smiles, mood and tongue steadily loosened by the beer in his hand. Your mom makes a low sneering sound. When you and your dad both look at her curiously, she sighs and shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s just- Yes, of course we want to hear all about him, serious or not. I want to know who’s got your attention, too, but I-I just…” she trails off, suddenly seeming uncomfortable as she and your dad exchange a loaded look.

“What? What is it?” you demand.

“I think what your mom is tryna say, Rox, is that we want to know more about him for the sake of knowing about him, but also because we’re both… we both hope whoever it is treats you better than.. what you dealt with before,” he finishes clumsily.

Your dad wasn’t the talkative type, but he was always better at expressing himself when he did decide to speak. Choosing his words more carefully than your mother ever did and communicating clearly despite not offering up much conversation very often. It felt odd to hear him stumble over his words, but it went hand in hand with their shared look moments ago.

They’d obviously talked amongst themselves about your complete failure of a relationship with Michael. It had been humiliating to tell them the truth of the situation, why you couldn’t “work it out” and why you had to move back home, but they were ultimately supportive.

It felt all the more humiliating on your end because your parents had been madly in love and happily married for decades. It was the kind of relationship you didn’t hear about much anymore, the childhood sweethearts who were destined to fall in love and be together forever. You’d thought that you were going to have the same thing, just a little rougher around the edges. Instead you’d ended up with a mockery of a relationship that you’d wasted years of your life on and would never get back.

“Maybe somebody closer to your age would be better, too,” your mom’s third glass of wine said. 

Your dad didn’t say anything, but his face spoke all the agreement in the world with the sentiment. Your stomach flipped. Great. Of course they were going to write off anyone with more than 5 years of seniority on you after Michael had so dutifully upheld the classic trope of “older man divorces his wife for his younger girlfriend and then repeats the cycle when she ages out of his desired demographic.” Yet another aspect of your life that he ruined despite not having spoken to him since before you left Colorado and came home.

“Maybe you should meet him before deciding you don’t like him,” you gripe defensively. The urge to defend Joel was strong, but you regretted your words the moment they left your lips.

“What a lovely idea!” your mom practically sings. Your dad’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise at your quick to defend attitude for this “casual relationship.” Right off the bat and you’d shown your hand. You wonder if your dad will clue your mom in that you obviously had strong feelings for this mystery man. You pour another glass of wine and resign yourself to divulging the bare minimum of information about Joel to your parents.

You don’t give a specific on age – “he’s older than me” – or when you met – “he lives next door.” Your mom was biting back annoyed sighs at how you danced around questions. You’d finally had enough to drink that you promised to talk with Joel about the four of you meeting up for dinner sometime in December before your parents left on their cruise. You hope that Joel will help you concoct some sort of excuse for not scheduling such a dinner, but your instinct tells you that he would probably be even more excited about it than your mother, if that was even possible.

“Joel, I don’t think this is structurally sound,” you half-joke.

The gingerbread structure, which was really just a bunch of graham crackers stuck together with store bought icing, was definitely leaning towards the left, but there wasn’t any discernible freefall motion to it. Just a slow, sinking slant towards the dining room table surface.

“Just leave it to the professionals, huh?” he snips back playfully.

“I knew I should’ve gotten a second opinion,” you theatrically mutter under your breath.

Joel pops a marshmallow into his mouth and chews loudly just because he knows how much it annoys you. “You got the best right here, baby.” He smacks his mouth in big gnawing motions. “Can’t get any better than this.”

His goofy grin is endearing, and you focus on that instead of the voice in your head readily agreeing that, yeah, you couldn’t do better than Joel and you might not even be good enough for him in the first place. 

“You up for a lil friendly competition?” he suggests. 

You shake off your negative thoughts with a loose shrug and smirk back at him. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Whoever makes the best gingerbread house person wins,” Joel proposes in a borderline smug tone . You’re about to agree when he holds a single finger up. “But wait just a minute, let’s make it interesting. You make me, and I’ll make you.”

Your mind is already going into overdrive producing hilarious confectionary Joels, and you don’t even waste any time offering up a verbal agreement to the challenge before diving right in. It’s only a minute or two later that cereal boxes have been erected between the two of you as “anti-cheating shields.” Sprinkles and icing cover the surface of the table everywhere you look. You’d both worked in near silence as you diligently crafted holiday candied versions of each other. 

You give your creation a once over and beam at your work: rice krispy treats mashed together with extra marshmallows for a broad, strong body, brown and black sprinkles mashed into the “face” to make a patchy beard, little red licorice pieces for the mouth, a chocolate candy smeared with marshmallows for his “salt and pepper locks,” and two mismatched sprinkles for eyes.

You start to peek around the boxes, but Joel is quick to block your line of sight. “Hey, no looking until it’s done!” You put your hands up in mock surrender and giggle uncontrollably at how serious he’s taking the task. He grins big and wide before nipping at your bottom lip, cheek, and earlobe in quick succession. “Absolute brat,” he breathes out a laugh. His eyes slide to your making of him, and his smile goes even wider.

You pick it up gently and present it to him. “Ta-da!”

He wheezes in laughter as he produces his version of you, and you’re quick to join him when you see it. Two jumbo marshmallows shoved together, some sort of pink taffy crammed into it near the bottom to represent what you can only assume is your vagina, two smaller but still sizable marshmallows attached by toothpicks for breasts – pointed ends of the toothpick still visible, of course, for your nipples – and random bits of icing and sprinkles mishmashed into a face.

“Oh wait wait wait,” you giggle like a maniac. You shove three mini marshmallows onto a toothpick to give your candy Joel a penis. He arranges the two of you against the lopsided graham cracker house, marshmallow penis situated crudely into your pink taffy vagina, and you both take in the completed scene.

“Never seen a better lookin’ gingerbread family,” he chuckles.

You nod, enthusiastic with agreement at the deformed but lovable pairing. You want to shove down the urge to mention the impending dinner with your parents, but you can’t quite manage.

“Speaking of family,” you awkwardly lay out, “you sure you’re still up for meeting the folks?”

Joel only looks a touch more serious when he answers. “Wanna meet the people responsible for creating such a beautiful thing like you.”

“Can’t promise they won’t make you pay for all of Michael’s sins,” you mutter.

He just smirks back in response. “If they didn’t give the next guy shit after that colossal failure of a man you were with, I’d wonder if they actually gave a shit at all.”

As usual, Joel brings everything into focus and props the situation up on a patient, flexible perspective for everyone involved. If he was in charge of the narrative, maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that bad afterall.

The pretty green satin dress you’d finally worked up the courage to buy and wear suddenly felt three sizes too small and ten times too revealing to wear for dinner with your parents. You smooth over the already smoothed fabric, hands gliding freely over the swell of your hips and belly where the light catches, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Joel groans from the doorway.

You twist around awkwardly to find him staring at you. His eyes roam back up to your face, and he shakes his head with a small, incredulous laugh. His grin etches out little grooves of joy around his eyes. “You look incredible.”

And it’s as simple as that. Joel looking at you how he does and saying the things he does, dispelling those nagging, intrusive thoughts in a moment’s passing. You turn to face him directly and do a bit of admiring yourself. Crisp, neat gray slacks paired with a nice button up shirt, hair lightly gelled back, scruff a little less scruffy. Joel looks devastatingly handsome, and you tell him so.

It’s an easy atmosphere for most of the car ride to the restaurant. It’s the kind of familiarity and comfort that comes so easy that it ends up being difficult to explain to people. A sort of if you know, you know energy, and the closer you got to the restaurant, the more you were scared your parents weren’t going to “get it” at all. The nerves crept up and tightened like a vice squeezing around your chest. Your dress feels too snug and inappropriate again all the sudden.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice plucks you from your mini spiral. He’s glancing at you while he waits for the light to change, but you hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped at all. “It’ll be good. It’s gonna be a nice dinner, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I know. I know it’ll be alright. I’m just–I don’t know why, but I guess I’m just nervous.” You give an apologetic shrug as if you might offend Joel for feeling anything less than ecstatic for him to meet your parents.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. If you get too nervous at dinner, I can handle it. I know how to steer a conversation, baby,” he assures you.

“But it’s not fair to ask you to take charge of the conversation just because I’m being overly anxious,” you grumble. “Especially since they’re my parents. I should be the one fielding questions and directing the conversation to pleasant chitchat.”

“Well, I guess that’s just one of the many things that makes me such a catch,” he teases with a wink.

You can’t help but smile a little at his attempts to keep you level headed. “Can’t argue with that.”

You focus on the lazy circles his wide hands draw on your thigh for the rest of the drive. You keep a flow of steady breaths as you pull into the lot and tell Joel not to worry about paying for valet. He grins knowingly at you. It was always a good sign if you were focused on economics and prudent money practices. His arm wraps across your back like a stabilizing bracket. The hostess informs you that the rest of your party has already arrived and is awaiting your company. Your heart jumps into your throat when you spot your parents seated in the middle of the restaurant.

It’s a bit of a blur as Joel introduces himself, offering a firm handshake to your dad and a friendly kiss on the cheek for your mother. He’s not even batting an eye as he prompts you to take a seat in the chair he’s pulled out for you. You plop awkwardly into your seat and feel like a deer in headlights. You realize now you probably should’ve prepped more for potential conversations and what sort of cohesive statements you and Joel would make in return. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, and your mother has to ask her question again when you realize you’ve missed it.

“I said, are you feeling okay? You’re just staring off,” she repeats with an edge of worry.

You snap into “fake it until you make it” mode and laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry, mom. Just realized it’s been a while since I ate something. Guess I’m a little hungry.”

It was the first thing that came to mind for a flimsy but passable excuse, and you want to launch yourself into the sun for immediately inviting the topic of food and appetite to the table. Even your dad pauses for a split second to squint at you as if he’d misheard. Your mom doesn’t take note of it, too delighted by your choice of topic. 

“OOooohhhh, is it intermittent fasting? I’ve heard a lot about that. How long have you been doing that? I’m so proud of you!”

The unspoken “I’m so happy that you’re finally trying to lose weight again” hangs in the air and makes your cheeks start to burn. You’d rather shrivel into a ball of mush and seep through the cracks in the floor than have Joel bear witness to one of you and your mother’s back-and-forths over eating and body weight.

Joel barely finishes his sip of water before wading into the disaster of a conversation you’ve started. “Intermittent fasting? Ain’t that what you do before a doctor’s appointment?” You appreciate his willingness to throw himself into whatever awkward bullshit you’ve managed to whip up in such a short amount of time, but he’s truly not well-versed enough in your mother’s history of food and diet culture to really understand just what he’s getting into.

“Oh, I guess, but this is a real winner from what I’ve heard. One of my girlfriends just switched to it from keto, but she’s still quite plump, you know? It’s supposed to do wonders for cutting back on calories and weight loss, ” she reports with glittery, tired eyes that shift to you for a split second at the word plump.

“What? Like a diet or somethin’? You tellin’ me people just cut out whole chunks of time and won’t let themselves eat?” Joel’s misgivings with the entire concept is obvious. Your mother of course further ensnares her victim into the conversation, knowledgeable or not of the verbal intricacies and diatribe lures that await them. “It restarts your metabolism,” she explains excitedly to a further perplexed Joel.

At least she was trying to salvage the discussion and didn’t seem put off by Joel’s less than stellar reception to her passionate opinions.

“Sounds a little strange to me, but I guess to each their own,” he offers, noncommittal and not entirely convincing.

Your mom deflates a bit but takes it in stride. It was more than what she normally got in those types of conversations. You thank the high heavens when the waiter comes to start your orders. You fumble with the menu and mentally thank Joel when he casually suggests something for you, exactly what you would pick for yourself had your brain not been in panic mode. Everyone is focused on their menus for a short time, muttering here and there about which special looks good and what the house favorites are. You spend the entire time dreading the thought of your mother talking about your weight, dieting, and body in front of Joel and haven’t picked a dish by the time the waiter returns. All your brain can do is hammer thoughts of the night ending badly one way or another.

Before Joel can step in and just order for you, your mother supplies you with her ever helpful suggestions. “You know, there’s a lot of really delicious looking salads. And it’s easy to get the dressing on the side to save yourself some Points.”

“Salad? Points?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I guess intermittent fasting wouldn’t be Points,” she laughs at herself like she’d just made a funny joke. “Weight Watchers does Points. You know, tracking your calories through Points. Makes it so easy, especially during these cooler months when everybody just starts letting themselves go and eat anything they see!” She’s nodding with an enthusiasm that no one else at the table shares.

Joel glances at you with a look of why the fuck would anybody waste a nice meal out being worried about calories? but he doesn’t say that – thank god. You order a pathetic sounding salad just to move things along, and you ignore Joel’s bewildered expression over your dinner choice. Your mother makes a face – over what you can only assume is the fact that you didn’t order your dressing on the side – before she orders a smaller, even more pathetic sounding salad and a bowl of glorified bone broth. It’s steaks and seafood for the men at the table, and then you’re left with the expanse of time between ordering and the food arriving.

“So, Joel,” your mother starts up again. “You’re quite the mystery man! It was a pleasant surprise when we found out our little Roxy had made a nice friend.”

Joel’s face radiates warmth and pride at the mere allusion of being yours, being your mystery man - a “nice friend.” He gives a breezy explanation of how it’s been nice for him to have such an intelligent, funny companion that’s just a stone’s throw away from his own house. Things get a little rocky when he mentions his house being more quiet since his daughter went away to college. Your dad all but freezes on the spot and pins you with a look that you can’t place.

By some divine nature, your mom doesn’t say anything and opts to just blink repeatedly at Joel with a blank stare. Sensing he might’ve opened a can of worms with the innocent comment, Joel looks to you with uncertainty for the first time this evening. Something in his search for the right thing to do at this moment gives you the drive to speak up.

“Yeah, it’s been nice for me, too, honestly. It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in a really long time, you know? And I think I would’ve been doing a hell of a lot worse if I hadn’t met Joel,” you attest.

He gives you one of his shy, goofy grins, and part of you wonders why you would ever feel nervous when you’ve got someone like him by your side.

“Well, it certainly sounds… convenient,” your mother notes with a questionably loaded emphasis on the word convenient.

Ah, yes, there’s the other part of you screaming and hopping up and down that says THIS is precisely why you would feel nervous, even with Joel by your side.

“Maybe it was destiny. Aren’t you always going on and on about that sort of thing, mom?” you shoot back with a glare. Heat prickles on your neck at the insinuation that you and Joel enjoy each other’s company simply because it’s easy and right in front of you. Your mom huffs a little at your pointed tone, but you don’t back down. 

“I never said it was a bad thing. I just think it’s certainly an element that’s made things more… speedy. But that’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

“Oh so now it’s not just because it’s easy but it’s rushed, too?” you scoff.

“That’s not what she’s sayin–”

You cut your dad off before he can jump in to defend your mom’s rude comments. “Sounds pretty clear what she’s saying, dad.” When you catch a “just so fast” and a “the whole Mike situation” muttered under her breath towards your dad, you feel on the verge of screaming. A large, firm grip on your thigh snaps your attention to Joel who levels you with a look – no, a silent request to let him take this on for you, to make good on what he’d promised in the car: ain’t nothin’ to be worried about,  I can handle it, I know how to steer a conversation.

“Hey,” he bids to you, tender but firm. “Let them say their piece. This is all new to them, alright? They’re just wantin’ to protect you is all.”

“I’m not going to let them disrespect us– you,” you grit out.

“I can handle myself, sweet girl,” he reassures you with a lopsided grin. He motions for a waiter and orders a bottle of white for the table. The brief pause has deescalated some of the tension, but you’ve yet to look at your mom for fear that you’ll want to snap all over again. Joel turns his full attention to your parents.

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything bad from what I was saying, it’s just—” Your mom is rushing to appeal to his understanding, easygoing nature, and you think to yourself she doesn’t much deserve it right now.

Joel waves a dismissive hand - water under the bridge. “Pardon me for the interruption, but you don’t need to explain yourself to me. If somebody did to my daughter what that prick did to yours, I’d probably be behind bars,” he says plainly. You swear your dad smiles for the briefest moment at that. “So I don’t take any issue with y’all wantin’ to keep her from gettin’ hurt again.”

Your mom frowns and drops her gaze. A spark of guilt nips at your gut. Maybe you weren’t being fair. Maybe you were just so keyed up from the start that any little thing was bound to set you off. When the waiter appears with the wine, you happily gulp down the entire pour. Your mom sips at hers and avoids your eye.

“Here’s to new beginnings, yeah?” Joel offers with a lift of his glass. You clink your empty cup with the rest of the table in a muted cheers. “And to the love and happiness that we all deserve,” your dad adds with a soft look in your direction. The conversation shifts to meaningless chit chat, anything safe and tame to avoid another labile interaction.

You’re happy when dinner arrives just to have something else to focus on. Without a word, Joel takes your salad and scrapes half of it onto his plate before doling out a large portion of the steak he’d ordered. He nestles the bowl back in front of you and bites back a devilish smile.

Your dad is definitely sporting a tiny grin now, no mistaking that. Your mom of course looks puzzled but thinks better of commenting. When the table is quiet long enough for it to start being awkward, your dad steps up to the plate. “Pretty dress, hon. Don’t think I’ve seen you in it before. Don’t tell me you went and bought some new digs on account of this little dinner,” he teases.

You smile softly at the compliment and taunting. “Glad you’re sitting down already because I actually did buy this not too long ago. Realized I didn’t really have any going out clothes I actually liked.” You relax into the ambiance a little and cut through Joel’s – your – steak. 

“You got my daughter out here acting strange, Joel,” your dad jokes. “Can hardly convince this one to spend a dime on anything, let alone herself. Good man.”

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly. “She’s been a good influence on me. Taught me a thing or two about finances I’m ashamed to say I prolly shoulda known at this point in my life, but better late than never I guess.” He gives you a playful nudge, and you feel like melting into a happy puddle. This is really happening. You and Joel, out and about as a legitimate, bonafide pairing, having dinner with the parents. It might be the entire glass of wine you downed on an empty stomach, but you’re pretty sure Joel is what’s got you feeling so intoxicated and fuzzy brained.

“Can’t work a lawn mower worth a damn, though,” he taunts. You groan and hide your face under your palm. Your mother zeroes in immediately on the inside joke and manages to convince Joel to tell the story. He sugarcoats none of the language or tantrum involved, and your parents both crack up at the telling. “Wish I could’ve snapped a picture of her face when she came back out to see me pushin’ that thing around without a problem.”

You’re a good sport, knowing Joel somehow finds all those less than flattering aspects of your personality more endearing than damning. He seems happy just to be talking about you so freely with others who know you and know how you can get. Joel can’t help ribbing your dad about the time you called a screwdriver a “screw gun,” and you can only laugh and shrug innocently when he claims they’re gonna “take his man card” for having his daughter out here misnaming basic tools.

You’re struck by how comfortable and confident Joel seems, how effortlessly he commands the attention of the table with his amusing storytelling and magnetic charm. Your parents are both genuinely smiling and engaged with him, and your eyes start to prick with the realization that this might actually end up okay. You and Joel stepping into this serious, committed territory might be nothing more than a no brainer, a path set in motion and followed with ease because it was just waiting for you to take the step forward and begin traveling.

You feel floaty by the time Joel excuses himself to the restroom. He plants a small peck on your temple before walking towards the back of the restaurant. You know you should gauge your parents’ impression of him before letting yourself just sit there in an unmistakable, lovestruck haze, but you can’t quite find the will or the concern to do anything else but bask in it. Joel just makes it around the corner and out of sight when your dad turns to you with a shrewd stare.

“He makes you happy. Doesn’t he?” he posits.

You blink back tears and nod with a watery smile. Your dad clucks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and nods back. “You know, your mom earlier… I think she was trying to broach a subject that we– to keep from making the same mistake twice. Her and me both—” you gently shake your head, not following the train of thought “—We had our reservations about Mike, and we didn’t say anything at the time. We didn’t want to rain on your parade, you know? But, we should’ve– we both should’ve shared our concerns we had about him from the start. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but we regret it, hon. We really, really do. Feel like we let you down. Like we failed at being your parents.”

The blissful tears inching towards the front of your eyes were blurring into those of rueful retrospection. Of course it made sense that they hadn’t been crazy about the freshly separated, not entirely divorced, and notably older coworker you’d found your heart embedded in. He’d lived an entire life before you’d come around, and then he’d thrown all of your pivotal young adult years down the drain like you were nothing.

“Joel’s nothing like him,” you blurt out.

“And we can see that, hon, we really can,” your mom adds quickly. Her eyes are glossy and entreating, and you sniff back the impending outpour hot along your lashline. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you, too. And we just have to be honest with you this time around, okay? If we see something, we’re just gonna have to speak on it, and I’m sorry if that’s upsetting to you.”

“We aren’t looking to make Joel pay for anybody’s sins. We just– We owe it to you to do it right this time around, Rox. Can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror if you got hurt again because we didn’t say something when we should’ve.” Your mother’s hand stays cupped in his when he reaches across the table to hold onto yours.

“It’s not your fault,” you sniff. “The only person who should be feeling bad right now is that scumbag back in Colorado. I deserve better than him, and I’m not going to let him hold me back from finding that person.”

“Of course not, of course not,” your dad agrees. “We just felt it was only fair that we be upfront with you about where we’re coming from this time around. Thankfully Joel seems like a great guy, so there’s no need to get the pitchforks out just yet.”

You snort and roll your eyes at the much welcomed turn to levity in the conversation. “Yeah, well, he’s a really good guy, and I know the more you get to know him the more you’re gonna love him.”

“Like you do?” your mom presses.

“Like I do what?”

“We’ll love him, like you love him?” she probes.

“I-I… um… I need to use the bathroom,” you announce as you stand and skitter the direction Joel headed what seems like 400 years ago. Without a second glance, you round the same corner he’d taken and make a beeline for the women’s restrooms. You’re not even cognizant enough to be startled when Joel pulls you into him.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” His smile falters when he sees the barely contained tears, and then his hands are cupping your face until you tell him what happened. You give him the quickest recap possible - dutifully excluding the part where you’d run off before having to answer your mom’s question about whether or not you were in love with Joel - and promise it’s nothing major. After the fourth time of asking if you were sure you were okay, you turn the questioning onto his whereabouts during the whole thing. You’re prepared to be annoyed with his answer, but the wind goes right out of your sails when he reveals he had given his card to the waiter to handle the bill and placed a to-go order for some dessert “in case you weren’t full from the half steak half salad.”

You don’t even allow yourself to sit with the genuine kindness and thoughtfulness oozing from Joel right now. You’re about two seconds from an emotional whiplash cry session, and you want to finish the night on a good note. Joel kisses you lightly across the forehead while he brings you into his embrace, and you take the opportunity to talk low and private.

“When we get home, I want you to turn my cervix into a dick punching bag,” you rasp. You meant for it to come out more joking than it did, but your abrupt detour into sexual frustration turned that intention right on its head.

Joel groans and sneaks a handful of your ass into the hand closest to the wall and out of sight of passerby. “Fuckin’ nasty. Baby needs some stress relief and it gets her talkin’ real filthy, huh?”

You look up to him with wide doe eyes and nod urgently. He sucks in a breath and looks to the ceiling like he’s collecting himself. He adjusts the crotch of his pants and crowds you against the wall. His breath is hot against your cheek when he murmurs, “Don’t wanna hear it later when I’ve got you pinned down with nowhere to go but to just take it, you understand?”

You gulp back a moan and bob your head yes. “S’good. S’real good because I ain’t gonna let up until that pussy is all beat to hell and raw from my cock, you hear me?”

“Oh my god,” you whimper. You rub your thighs together at the mental images he’s conjuring.

“See you back at the table, baby,” he toys. He waggles his eyebrows and is gone with the turn of a heel. You practically sprint into the bathroom and slap a towel drenched in cold water around the back of your neck. When you finally calm down enough to return to the table, Joel helps you into your chair and informs you that your parents will be joining the two of you at his house for a home cooked meal after they get back from their cruise. He manages to keep the mood friendly and light for the rest of the dinner, and your dad doesn’t even get weird about the bill when he’s informed Joel has already taken care of it.

By dad code, that has to count for something, right? Not turning it into a pissing contest over who’s going to cover the tab was as good a sign as any that he definitely liked Joel. Your mom’s full on squeeze hug and cheek pat settled any lingering doubts. Your parents like Joel. You think Joel likes your parents, too. Despite a minor hiccup at the beginning, everyone had come out unscathed. Hell, you already had plans for them to spend more time with you and Joel as a couple.

You say your goodbyes to your parents and wave them off as their valet arrives. You’re awash in the swell of your successful night as Joel walks you to his truck. You’ve got that silly, happy smile plastered across your face. You can feel it pushing your cheeks against your temples with the intensity of it. You’re brought back to earth when you see that Joel has not only opened the passenger door for you but has the rear passenger door opened as far as it will go without hitting the empty car next to his truck. You’re boxed in by the doors and the cars. Joel tosses the container of dessert onto his dash and flings your purse onto the floor of the passenger seat.

“Hey! I don’t even think it’s zipp–”

The sheer heft and heat of Joel slams into you from the back and pins you against the seat. Your arms fly up and onto the seat as you try to catch your balance. Your next round of indignant complaint is halted when Joel curves himself flush against you, arms resting atop your own. He grinds slow and steady against your backside. Your breath hitches at the feel of him fully thick and hard for you.

“You see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he grunts against the side of your head. “Wearin’ this pretty thing. Bein’ so goddamn beautiful all dinner. Then seein’ me in the back and beggin’ me to fuck you so hard your pussy goes all bruised from me slamming my cock into you. Gonna fuck you so hard I gotta kiss it all better after, huh? S’that what you want?”

“Oh sh-shit,” you gasp.

Without waiting for your stunned response, Joel shoves your dress up to your hips and kneels between your legs. His mouth is on you in seconds, and you bite into your arm to stifle the surprised sound trying to claw its way out of you. He licks into you with blinding need and only stops working you with his fingers just long enough to free his dick from his pants and start jerking himself off.

“Fuck yeah, all mine,” he growls into your sloppy wet heat. He smears some of the mess from his mouth and chin onto his hand and tugs himself harder with the added lubrication. He slips two fingers into you and works them in tandem with his stroking. You bend your head as far as it will go and drink in the sight of Joel crouched on his knees in the middle of a parking lot with your slick glistening all over his face in the dull glow of the streetlight. He locks eyes with you and grins like he knows a secret.

“You’re mine now, yeah?” He hooks his fingers and plunges them faster. Your legs start to tremble.

“Y-Yes! Mine. Yours!” you choke out.

“Gonna let me have this pussy all out in the open if I want it, huh? Got me so wound up I can’t even wait ‘til I get you home. Bet you’d like it if somebody came walkin’ by right now and saw me claimin’ this pussy all to myself.”

You sob out a moan at the thought. Joel buries himself between your legs again and sends vibrations through you with every grunt and growl. You tense against the seat when your orgasm comes barreling out of nowhere, and you cling onto the truck for dear life when your legs start to give. Joel shoves his head up into you harder, licking and slurping up your cum at the same time he presses you against the car for support. He pulls back with a heaving inhale and grips at the fat of your ass as he erupts between your spread legs and onto the concrete in thick splats.

He stands and meets the heavy rise and fall of your chest with his own. “Goddamn perfect,” he pants. You reach a hand behind you and scratch against his scalp. He leans into your mouth and kisses into it like he’s putting the final mark of his claim onto you. He tucks himself back into his trousers and rights your dress before helping you into the truck. You can feel your arousal wetting into the fabric of your dress beneath your ass in the seat, another indication of who you belong to - officially.

That little mark of pleasure had ruined your dress. You cast a pitiful frown to where the still visible line of demarcation had resisted all intervention the dry cleaners could muster. You were supposed to be meeting Sarah in a few days when she got into town, and now you had no cute evening dress in the event you went out together. You make it through a few household chores and a handful of work calls before calling it a day an hour and a half earlier than usual. It wasn’t like you to dip out before you were scheduled, but you didn’t have anything as pressing as your ruined dress.

You drag your feet the entire 2 minute walk into Joel’s house. “Joellllll,” you call out. His truck was in the driveway, wasn’t it? So he should be here. You call out for him again with the added news that he “officially owed you a new dress after ruining the green one.” Just as you’re starting to get concerned with the silence, the stairs creek. You round the corner with a heavy pout. “You ruined my dress!”

The bright set of eyes and impish smile that greeted you were an echo of Joel’s but not quite his own. You recognize her from the hundreds of photos Joel had shared with you. Sarah. Days early and looking increasingly amused and curious at your presence.

“Ruined your dress, huh?” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. Her grin spreads the longer you blink silently back at her. “Should be an interesting story.”

Your cheeks burn, and you don’t think she’d be as amused if she knew just how right she is.

part 2 coming tomorrow :)

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[innytoes]

let's throw a curve ball (is that the right metaphor? I know nothing) 21 and/or 16 for the Caleb/WD* au

*Willie's Dad ;P

How do I even explain this AU? Well, Yeo wrote in some fic or tags something about Caleb being Willie's stepdad and it spiraled from there.

Today had been awesome. He had spent the morning skating around town, landing some sick tricks, and then he and Alex had a date. They'd gone to a cute little cafe and a music store and gotten ice cream together and talked and talked and kissed for hours.

So yeah, Willie had an excellent day.

Until he came home and found his dad making out with his dance teacher in the kitchen. Like, full on making out, with tongues and teeth and rucked up shirts and in the kitchen where Willie made his sandwiches.

"What the fuck?" he blurted out, because seriously, what the fuck?

"Willie!" Dad said, and gross, his lips are all shiny and his face is all flushed. "Okay, so, I can explain..."

"IN THE KITCHEN?" Willie shouted instead, because well. He knew his dad wasn't straight. And had recently started dating again. Though could he have found anyone else to date besides his dance teacher? "With my dance teacher? Really dad? You couldn't just go on the apps like a normal person?"

"Well actually," Caleb started, and Willie decided he really didn't want to hear the rest of that story. And Caleb wasn't his teacher here, so Willie didn't have to listen to him. So he covered his ears and shouted 'ew ew ew' all the way to his room.

He hid under the covers, trying to wrap his head around this. He pulled Lancelot close, burying his face in the plush dragon's soft stomach.

He'd told dad he was fine with him dating. And he was. But why did it have to be his teacher? What if they broke up and Willie had to switch dance schools? Or worse, what if they stayed together and Willie still had to switch because of bias or something? Those classes were cut-throat sometimes, and he could see the dance moms out for blood if Willie got a part they wanted their kid to have and they found out Caleb was dating Willie's dad.

Because it wasn't like he disliked Caleb, or anything. Sure, he was a little extra sometimes, but that's part of what made class fun. And he never got weird about gender stuff, all parts were cast based only on talent. The dress code was lax, and the rules weren't so stifling they made dancing un-fun, unlike some of the other studios Willie had tried.

Also Caleb was just really cool and accepting. And funny, in a snarky way. And he never let anyone get away with any kind of bullying. And when Willie was having trouble with a certain part of the routine, he let Willie stay after class and worked with him on it.

So okay, maybe Willie understood those were all things that could be nice for a boyfriend to have. Alex was also cool, and funny, and kind, and principled. But still... the kitchen. Where they ate.

There was a knock on the door, and Willie grumbled out a 'whaaat'. Because he wasn't actually mad at his dad or anything.

"I brought you Oreos as a peace offering," his dad said, sticking his head through the door.

Willie sat up, pouting. "You may enter," he allowed, making grabby hands. He had no idea where Dad had hid those from him, because usually Oreos didn't last in this house.

Dad sat on the bed with him, forking over the goods. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Caleb sooner," he said, as soon as Willie's face was stuffed with cookies so he couldn't talk back. His dad was a wily one. "We really wanted to make sure we had something before we told you."

"Do you?" Willie asked.

The way his dad's face turned shy and happy at the same time said everything Willie needed to know. "I think so. I really like him, Willie."

"Uh yeah, I could tell," Willie said, because while he was happy for his dad, he did Not Want To See That. The shy smile turned into an embarrassed grimace. "Two rules. One: no matter what happens, you won't make me switch dance classes, and Caleb won't be weird about it."

"I promise," Dad said, holding out his pinkie. Willie hooked his pinkie around it, and they shook on it. "What about the second rule?"

"No sex in the kitchen!" Willie said. "Or any of the shared living spaces! No sex on the couch, or in the garden, or on the stair case, or wherever else you two want to get nasty."

His dad sighed, but held his pinkie out again. Only when he promised that did Willie deign to share his Oreos.

#julie and the phantoms #willie throckmorton #fanfic #willie's dadxcaleb #I wrote a thing #listen they already knew each other and probably flirted a bit #and then they saw each other on grindr and welllll #caleb 100% does not change a single thing about how he treats Willie in dance class #so much so that everyone thinks Willie's stepdad is just some other dude named Caleb #not their dance teacher #Caleb thinks this is absolutely hilarious and will 100% talk about WD's OTHER MAN #queue Willie being like: SORRY I'M LATE CALEB MY STEP DAD WAS SUPPOSED TO DRIVE ME BUT HE LEFT WITHOUT ME #Caleb's like: what a horrible man just leaving you like that (you were 15 minutes late you little shit)

[tf-boi]

Requested by @baranchik3

“Another day at the gym” Cody says to himself, a slim fit young man running on the treadmill. He often stays at the gym for hours but also disappears for weeks as well. The staff knows him and reserves a locker for him.

As Cody does his run on the treadmill, he notices a more built man taking glances at him.

“Ughh. . .great. . .” Cody thought, not paying him much attention. There was a certain type of man Cody normally goes for and this man didn’t meet his standards.

After a good 30 minutes of running, he notices the man has moved from lifting weights to running besides Cody.

“Nice day for a run, huh?” The man said in a cheery voice.

Silence, Cody did his best to ignore him.

“Not much of a talker are you?” 

“. . .”

“You’re pretty cute.”

“Thanks. . .” Cody said without thinking 

“Crap. . . “ Cody thought, realizing what he has done.

“So you can talk!” The grizzly man says cheerfully. “Name’s Jim, yours?”

“. . .Keith. . . “ Cody lied, one of the aliases he uses when he is not interested.

“I’m going for a swim after this you interested?”

“Sorry I forgot my swimsuit.”

“Oh same here. Looking to get a new one for today.”

“Oh one of those guys. . .” Cody thought.

Cody, annoyed, walked into the shower room, planning on calling one of his usuals after just to get away from Jim.

Turning on the showers Cody steps in, only to see Keith in the shower next to him.

“Look Keith, you’re cute and I’m just gonna say it. . . I’m in the market for a new sugar baby. Interested?”

Cody looked shocked “Uhhh. . .thanks. . .pretty young to be a daddy though?”

Jim chuckled “Thanks for that! I’m not too much older than you probably but nonetheless I’m looking for someone like you.”

Cody, not sure why he was answering now took a good look at Jim. Jim wasn’t very muscular but his bod was still pretty good, and he is packing a monster rocket.

“You’re not my usual type. . .” Cody said, pretending not to be interested

“Oh? So you’re an experienced sugar baby?”

“I prefer the term. . . ‘professional house boyfriend’”. Cody said looking away.

“Well I’ll hire you then!” Jim says with a smirk “I’ll give you $500 a day for an allowance, an extra $300 every time we do extra “stuff”.

“$500?!” Cody thought “Well best case I can make a quick buck. . .worse case, I get that giant monster in me. . .I guess. . .” Cody said rolling his eyes, not believing what he is about to do.

“Uhhh. . .I guess. . .for a bit. . .Daddy.” Cody said smirking.

Jim grinned, the young ones always go for the money.

Jim put his hand on Cody’s shoulder leading him to the locker room. He opens his locker and pulls out a stack of cash and hands it to Cody. Cody grabs it and starts counting “100, 200, 300. . .800? A little forward aren’t we?” Cody says opening his locker and putting the cash in his bag.

“Little it, but hey, people stop playing hard to get after the first time. Plus you don’t seem to mind so much.”

“Score. . .” Cody thought. “Soo where to?”

“Well gotta go on my morning swim. . .and looks like you’ll be fixing my speedo problem.” 

“Great. . .” Cody thought, this wasn’t his first rodeo but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to do it today.

The pair walk back into the showers and Jim only needed to point down for Cody to know what to do. He opened his mouth wide and started sucking on Jim’s massive shaft, his mouth barely able to fit the massive girth. 

“Thats good, but I need you to really get in there!” Jim says, shoving his cock into Cody’s mouth, hes pertty sure half of it went down Cody’s throat as he gags a bit, but surprisingly keeping it together.

“Mmm mmmm” Cody says, enjoying Jim’s fat cock. Massaging it with both his tongue and his throat, he was shocked that he could still breath with Jim’s dick that deep in him. 

Jim puts his massive hands on the sides of Cody’s head and starts to face fuck Cody.

“Unnnf unnnn” Cody moaned as he was getting his brains fucked out of him. A warm feeling fills his body, his cock becoming erect and he feels the warm precum of Jim go down his throat. Cody wrapping his tongue around Jim’s shaft, licking every inch of his salty meat. The shower water hitting their bodies put Cody into a trance of moaning, and sucking as his face gets fucked harder and harder by Jim. 

“You’re a good boy aren’t you? And good boys listens to daddy right?” Jim says looking down on Cody.

“Cody only cold nod in agreement as Jim pouds Cody’s face more with his cock.

“So be a good boy and don’t resist. . . “

Cody nodded again.

With that he felt a large surge of warm liquid enter his body, him moaning as he accepts Jim’s load into him. His stomach stretches and expands to look like he is 9months pregnant when Jim is done.

“You liked that didn’t you?” Jim said looking at the stream of cum flow out of Cody’s own cock and into the shower drain.

Cody tries to gasp for air and notices he couldn’t move his jaw. Infact he couldn’t move his body as a warm sensation fills his body.

Cody feels his body slowly deflate and flatten his limbs dangling as his mouth hangs on Jim’s dick, stuck to it like glue.

“Oh. . .guess its kinda hard to change you when you are so full. . . Jim says as he steps on Cody’s back, Jim’s load flowing freely out of Cody’s dick, ass, nose, and ears.

Cody moaned again at the sensation of the hot sticky liquid exiting his body. Eventually all of Jim’s cum flows out of him leaving, Cody a flat body, which then moves on its own to wrap itself around Jim’s waist and crotch, his skin changing to black polyester with 2 grey stripes. His body forming into a tight fitting speedo for Jim.

“Ohhh a speedo! Nice! My last one turned into a pair of trunks but I like you more! You fit perfectly for my crotch and balls! Maybe I’ll wear you all the time!” Jim says, rubbing his dick in its new home. “Maybe we’ll start with a week, hows that sound?”

Cody used what little mobility he has left to press against Jims cock and shake it side to side as to say “No”

“Oho? More?” Jim asked.

Cody moved Jim’s dick as if to say yes.

“How bout a month?” Jim said rubbing Cody.

Again, yes.

“Thats a good boy, don’t worry I’ll always have you on me! I’ll be sure to keep track of your allowance and your “bonus”. . .and if you start to tear up before the month  is over, I’ll merge with my kid to keep you patched up.”

#object transformation #object tf #speedo tf #swimsuit transformation #inanimate transformation #inanimate tf

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 52 SANSA IV (pages 678-688)

Sansa gets her first period.

-

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. she could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep;

*recalls Sansa vs. nightmares of the bred riots (tv edition)*

Oh dear. I don't think that's fear in your tummy, sweetheart.

They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. (...) Try not to be afraid! he said.

Stop making me like you asshat! Ooooh, that's cheating! Sorry, I just, really like that he said try not to be afraid rather than don't be afraid. It just feels more comforting and less demanding on an already stressed young girl.

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her. Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven sheek, and bid him goodnight.

I'll give you a "kiss" *hefts steel chair* come here >:3

Turning back to the stair, Sansa climbed. The smoke blotted out the stars and the thin crescent of moon, so the roof was dark and thick with shadows.

I know I've been having fun with 'interpreting' the visions and dreams and stuff the past few chapters, but we do all (myself included) need to remember how hind-sighted visions are. In a narrative it's easy because the author often wants the events to tie together in a certain way, but even then there is always room for different interpretations.

Take for instance this chapter. We are being reminded multiple times that King's Landing is being bathed in smoke. King's Landing which is on a salt water coastline. Born of smoke and salt could now fit basically anyone in or around King's Landing at this point in time.

Case in point: Sansa has been weeping a lot (extra salt for the salt checkbox) because she's getting her first period (if I have my chapters and events correct) which is a "gateway" to womanhood in many cultures, and reflects more viscerally the idea "kill the boy and let the man be born" train of thought. If we wanted to do some crack takes, we could use this to say Sansa is Azor Ahai Confirmed.

She's not, probably, but we could say it.

Hell, Cersei could be Azor Ah-hoooo my gosh someone find a fic author and make that happen! X'D Azor Ahai!Cersei XD

... and just like that Sandor's made me dislike him again. He's so grumpy. And not in a fun way.

...Damn that's a violent period dream. For a second there I was kind of reminded of Dany's first vision through the doors, it was the "Women swarmed over her like weasels" I think, but the phrase from the vision described the men as "rattish"

Gods, Sansa is so terrified. First periods are always scary, even when you know what's going on because it's this change that you can't really wrap your head around until after, and for Sansa it's more than just that, it's another layer of illusionary safety being violently torn away from her.

Also, just as a point of interest, Blood is a Protein Stain. Cold water and a cake of your normal hand soap will remove most fresh stains from clothing and sheets, don't use hot water, warm to hot water actually makes fresh blood stains set. For older stains, glycerine can help to break them up, just dab a bit on the stain and give it a light scrub before washing with cold water and soap.

And when I say glycerine, I mean the stuff from your first aid kit for wound care, also called glycerin or glycerol. not the nitro for exploding stuff.

Queen Cersei laughed. "Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you'll learn that soon enough... and the parts that look like magic are the messiest of all."

Not super looking forward to Cersei's POV's, cause I've heard things, and I would like to pretend she actually has some intelligence a little longer. Look at this scene. My gosh. For a moment there I almost thought Cersei gave a shit and was commiserating.

This woman has some opinions, and not all of them are complete trash, but damn she needs some therapy... but damn everyone in this series needs some therapy.

"Joffrey will show you no such devotion, I fear. You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He's never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You're stronger than you seem, though. I expect you'll survive a bit of humiliation. I did. -"

So first of all, I understand that had Arya not been in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, the situation would never have been possible BUT, consider for a moment, that it ALSO could have been avoided if Joffrey hadn't been such a piece of shit! So really he brought that shit on himself then made it everyone else's problem by being an insufferably self-absorb, overly entitled, rich little white bo-

... Joffrey isn't just a dude bro. He's Elon Musk with a violent streak.

I need a moment...

...

Where was I?

Second of all! Oh look, Cersei is Pro Cycles of Abuse. "I suffered so every one else should suffer too. It's equality UwU"

*Kicks Cersei off a tower* This. Is. SPARTA!!!!

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

[sadcypher]

uni started 4 weeks ago and i already feel like i am months behind, the math is not mathin’.

#taking rly rad stuff this semester but the level is so hard rn #i think i just need extra time to wrap my head around certain stuff #studyblr #brown aesthetic #university #minimalism #dark academia

[harryssonlyangel]

I Forgot It

In which Y/n and Harry are traveling for love on tour, but she forgot something

Warnings :none. Pure fluff! 

You and Harry were currently getting ready for bed. You guys had just landed in Vegas about 5 hours ago. Tomorrow is Harry's first show of the whole tour and you can not be any more excited than you already are. Harry thinks you might even be more excited than him.

You two were in the bathroom, taking showers after a long plane ride from London. Which you definitely aren't a fan of long flights, but you will do anything to be by Harrys side. While currently standing in the big suite bathroom of the hotel, doing your skincare routine, harry comes up behind you. Wrapping his inked arms around your waist and kissing into your neck. You smile at him through the mirror and start applying you're toner with a cotton pad, which thankfully you remembered.

"Just want to go to bed already. Got a lot to do tomorrow before the show love" Harry mumbled against your neck.

"Go ahead and lay down. Ill be there in a sec"

"you always say that and then it takes you forever. Just skip the gua sha or whatever that thing is tonight. Don't need it anyways" you know what he means. You always take longer than you say. But hey, you have to keep your skin in check. Harry doesn't even have to do anything, his skin is literally perfect. If you are being honest to yourself, it makes you a tad jealous.

After a little bit more time, he is whining at this point. It really hasn't even been that long! " i just want to go to bed. Are you done nowww"

"Yes babe, I'm done" you reply with a giggle.

You two make your way to the master suite. This hotel is so nice but are you surprised? No. Not at all. Harry always gets the best places to stay.

As you're crawling into bed, a shirtless Harry is already laying down under the sheets. He looks exhausted. He opens his arms, inviting you into them and you slide under the white, comfy sheets and comforter and lay in his big arms.

He starts talking and saying all the stuff he is going to do tomorrow before the show. Things like sound check, trying on the outfit for the final time, making sure everything is where its supposed to be on stage, all that kind of stuff which you were only half listening to. You were just tracing his bird tattoos on his upper chest.

While laying there, you notice something different. Something is missing and you can't quite put your finger on it. Going through the list of things in your head, trying to figure out what it could be.

'Did I forget my outfit for the show tomorrow? Did I forget my favorite makeup brush I can't do my makeup without? Did I forget extra socks?'  all of these things you are asking yourself in your head.

Then it finally hits you.

Your stuffed animal.

Is it stupid that you are 22 and still prefer to sleep with a stuffed animal? Most people probably think so. Is it something that you absolutely need? Yes and no. You tend to get anxious sometimes, so having something you've had sense you were a kid, it brings you a sense of home. With you being an actor and having to move certain places for a few months at a time, you just liked having it. Now that you are going on tour with Harry, you really wanted it.

"so we will probably have to get there around ten or elev- Y/n? Baby? you alright there?" Harry says with a chuckle. He noticed you were a little zoned out.

"I forgot it" you say with a frown.

"forgot what precious?"

"my stuffed animal." you huff and pout a little from actually being upset at yourself from forgetting it. You even made a list of things and somehow still forgot.

Harry chuckles, you feeling it vibrate from his chest. You look up at him, with a now slightly mad look on your face at the fact he is laughing. 'Why would he be? Does he think I'm stupid'?.

"oh baby, don't be mad"

"I should be. you're laughing!" you start to let a little smile come on your face, but then it goes back to the expression before.

"Hold on one second." Harry starts getting out of bed. You're eyebrows furrow and you're wondering what he is doing. He walks over to his suit case and pulls something out and you can't see what yet.

He turns around and there it is, in his hands, your stuffed animal. You cover your face in embarrassment as he walks back over to you with a chuckle.

"here you go precious, I knew you would forget it. I made sure to grab it because I know that you have some trouble remembering things. Hey hey, no need to cover that pretty face" he sweetly says as he hands it to you while he crawls back under the covers and pulls you back to his chest, while you at last, have your stuffed animal in your hands.

"I got so lucky with you. I swear you are the most thoughtful boyfriend ever."

He smiles and kisses your forehead. "I got lucky with you" he says back. You kiss him on the lips, its so gentle but you can feel the love and the genuineness of it. You pull back, and then peck his nose.

"ok lets actually get some sleep now" you say while putting your head in his neck.

"I think so lovie" he says and wraps his arms around you tightly.

"I love you Harry"

"And I love you precious"

Ok this is just something short and fluffy for my first harry imagine on here. Hoped you liked it!! 🤍

#harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagines #imagines #oneshot #fluff #y/n #hslot #love on tour #loveontour imagines #lotimagines #harry styles love on tour #loveontourharry #fluffyharry #fanfiction

[duskholland]

Settle || Mob!Tom Smut

summary ↠ distance may make the heart grow fonder, but you’d spend every day by tom’s side if you could. warnings ↠ a bit of angst, and this is just.... so fucking smutty.... pwp but make it 8k of smut... 18+ minors dni !!!!!!!!!!! extended nsfw warnings below the cut <3 word count ↠ 11.7k. a/n ↠ lads... lost my mind I’ve lost it. the mob!tom energy has been absolutely overwhelming for the last month, and this has been a long time coming. thank you esquire. thank you gq. thanks tom too, I guess, even though his handsomeness is a double-edged sword. also thanks to chloe for motivating me to write this lmao. this was a lot of fun!! softness sweetness debased animalistic crazy stuff. we love to see it. lmk what you think !! <3 ***this is a part of my mob!tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ praise kink, breeding kink, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, biting, spitting, oral + fingering (fem receiving), unprotected sex (the long-awaited return of cum-dumpster!reader), minor d/s dynamics ft soft!dom!tom, possessiveness in the dirty talk, and I wouldn’t say it’s degradation but there is some patronisation lmao. this is intense loving passionate consuming smut, esp the second section. pls practice safe sex irl x

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ *:･ﾟSETTLE･ﾟ:*✧

Tom is wrapped around you, his rich scent overpowering each one of your senses. He consumes you. He becomes you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck and your legs swung either side of his thighs, you’re clinging tightly to him. One of his hands rests beneath the shirt on your back, the tips of his fingers slowly stroking up and down your spine, and you can feel the firm press of his nose against the side of your head. His face nestles against your hair as he holds you to the warm skin of his neck. Every few minutes, Tom pulls away from the documents and spreadsheets resting on his desk and litters the side of your temple with short kisses.

There’s a persistent throbbing between your legs, but it’s worth it. Tom’s cock is buried inside you, his length enveloped by your silky heat. You can feel him, bearing in on every intimate space of your cunt. In your aroused state, you swear you can make out the lines of his bulbous head and the curves of his veins as they press up against your sensitive walls. You’re pulsing—every slight movement made by either you or him causing you to gasp softly and cling closer to your boyfriend.

“God, darling,” Tom murmurs, accented voice hanging low and heavy. He strokes over your back again, and you hear him click his ballpoint pen. When he tosses the heavy metal object back onto the desk, he sits back in the wide office chair that the two of you are precariously balanced on. You aren’t scared of falling off—you’ve done this before, countless times. You know that he’s got you. “So fuckin’ snug, aren’t you?”

You pull away from your boyfriend’s neck, sucking in a rough breath as you sit up to face him and receive the lightest of friction against your g-spot. As your teeth dig into your lower lip, you take a few moments to admire his ensemble—light white shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, a delicate silver chain dangling over the golden expanse of his chest. He’s got his rings stacked over his fingers, and the bright metal pieces catch in your hair as he smoothes a hand across your cheek.

Tom smirks at you, his deep brown eyes flooded with lusting appreciation. With one hand on your face, the other slowly slides down your back, drifting over the loose shirt that covers your figure until it disappears between your legs. You cry out as his index finger reaches down to play with your clit, still wet and sensitive from his exploration earlier. He’d opened you up on his tongue before sheathing himself inside you.

“You just got so tight, angel,” he murmurs, voice raspy. “Do you like when I show you a bit of attention?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. You can barely keep your eyes open as he continues to toy with your bud. It’s hard to push down the temptation to start riding him, but you know that’s not the point of this. As much as you crave release and the opportunity to fall apart whilst being encompassed by Tom, there are other objectives at play. “I’ll miss this,” you admit. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know, my darling.” Tom’s expression briefly clouds over, some of the heat leaving his eyes. He rolls the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, a gentle pout curling across his lower lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”

You lick your lower lip, pushing back the hot lump of emotion that simmers in your chest. All week, you’ve felt apprehensive for his departure, anticipating today with unease. Tom is a good businessman, and usually he’s able to control his own empire from the comfort of his West London mansion. For so long, he’s been near you, lingering close, never trailing too far from your side. But there’s uncertainty in the air, and they need him out in Manchester for a few weeks to whip the boys back into shape. Until the supply issue is resolved, he’ll be away—away from you, and your bed, and the life that you’ve constructed so precariously together.

In this world of drugs and darkness, nothing is certain. You fall asleep beside Tom each night thankful that he’s safe, he’s here, he’s content. You know plenty of people who haven’t been afforded such a luxury. Your boyfriend has enemies who seek revenge and retribution, and their greedy eyes follow him from every direction. They’re like wolves, every single one of them—suppliers, rivals, the law—waiting in the shadows, preparing to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

You shouldn’t love him. He’s not a good man. Tom has told you as much repeatedly—in his deprecating words, in the underhanded dealings that go on around your dinner table, through his violent actions against opponents. But he loves you, and he is a good man, to you, and maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe you can take the pain and the darkness, because it affords you a glimmer of light in the form of your boyfriend. Tom holds you at the very centre of his universe, and as he cups your face in a gentle hand and coaxes you in for a sweet kiss, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life may be characterised by uncertainty, but there is no doubt in the way that he loves you, so recklessly and fiercely. He gives you everything that he has without hesitation.

The kiss grows deeper, and you moan into Tom as he presses his tongue into your mouth. He’s still rolling your clit beneath his thumb, and you reach up to grab fistfuls of his hair. When he’d pulled you into the office earlier and begged you to spend time with him, it’d come with the caveat that you need not distract him from his final pieces of work. He seems to have abandoned that decision now, as he ruts up into you when you groan into his mouth.

“Sweet love,” he purrs, voice darker. Tom squeezes your cheek, the cool metal of his ring pressing to your skin as he holds you tightly. He releases your face a moment later, fingers shifting to your waist as his lips grace over the tender part of your face. “God, I’ll miss you. Miss this fuckin’ cunt.” He kisses down from your cheek, shifting back and towards your ear. You release a wispy moan as he finds your tender spot, sucking harshly against the skin then soothing the ache with his hot tongue. “So perfect for me.”

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, mind slow. Tom holds your hip slowly and encourages you to move, and both of you release sounds of enjoyment as you begin to ride him. Your entrance aches, stretched wide around his girth, but as his finger rubs persistent circles across your bud, it soothes into pleasure. “Fuck, Tom… You fill me up completely. You’re in so deep.”

“I know, darling,” he murmurs. When you toss your head back and start to move faster, he’s quick to attach his lips to your neck. “Tightest little thing,” he adds, voice scalding against your ear. “I know I’ll be dreaming of you, angel. Every single night.”

You cry out as he helps you shift slightly to the side, optimising your pleasure. As the crown of Tom’s cock rubs up against your back wall, you shudder, breath hitching. The sounds of your heat, so wet and silky, being fucked repeatedly as you come down on him again and again spurs you on. It grows wild quickly, Tom leaving your neck and sitting back in his chair just to watch you ride him so perfectly. His eyes are dark and passionate, and his gaze so intense that it’s as if he’s trying to burn the memory to mind.

“I don’t think I can hold it,” you admit, eyes threatening to roll back. After sitting on his cock for fifteen minutes, you were already riled up. Now, you’re on cloud nine. Pleasure has your toes curling, the muscles in your thighs tensing and straining as you cling to the back of Tom’s head and tug on his curls. “T-Tom.”

“That’s it, gorgeous. Say my name.”

His ring digs into your side, spurring you on. As the cool metal nicks at your skin, the coil in your stomach tightens further.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. No longer able to see Tom’s handsome face, you’re left only with the sensations, pulsing out from your centre. You’re on the verge, inching closer with every time Tom pulls you back onto his cock. He works you open, thrusts into you deep, leaves you gasping.

“C’mon, pretty baby,” he murmurs, hot lips moving forward to press at your neck. “Make me cum. I know you want it, don’t you?”

A throaty groan travels past your lips as you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’d stopped taking birth control a week ago, and though both of you know that the chances of you falling pregnant so soon after ending those hormones are slim, the possibility is there. Sex now feels dangerous, the extra weight to it filling you with arousal and excitement.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

Tom nips at your ear, the bite of pain making you moan.

“Go on,” he coos, voice sweet, sultry. “I’m going to fill you up, darling. Give you something to remember me by.” His hand slips from his waist and travels to your lower stomach, resting there. “Right here,” he adds. “Do you want it, love? You need to work for it. Cum on my cock, mm? Let me feel how desperate your tight little pussy is for my cum.”

Tom snaps his hips up to yours, and a few moments later, you peak. Your climax burns through you, your walls clamping down around his length in a way that makes him groan loudly. You open your eyes to watch his face seize up, freezing with pleasure and enjoyment as his jaw tenses and his eyes squeeze shut. You feel his cock pulsing as you continue to move over him, lost in the pleasure that spirals out from your cunt and your clit. His pants are laboured too.

When you come down from it, you settle in his lap, sweaty palms grasping at his face. Tom pulls you closer, wrapping you up in his arms as he presses his forehead to yours. His nose bumps against yours, tip warm. Every part of him is warm.

“I love you so much,” he says, voice serious. “More than you could ever imagine, Y/N.”

You smile. “I love you too,” you whisper.

Tom pulls back from you to pepper his lips across your face, dusting every inch of your skin with his mouth. You’re still connected at your centre, and you know the moment you stand, you’ll feel the evidence of his love dripping down your thighs.

“I—”

A rough knocking sound bursts into the room, hard knuckles drumming over the office door. You jump, and Tom’s brows crease. He brings both of his hands to cover your ears and kisses the tip of your nose before sitting up a little straighter.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hollers, voice terse. He’s muffling the volume with his palms, but you still wince, and he kisses your nose again in penance.

“Sir, we have to go. The men are waiting—”

Tom’s face ripples with irritation. You watch the vein stand out in his neck, fading only when his eyes sweep back to your face. He deflates as he brings his lips down across your forehead.

“I’ll be two minutes,” he barks back. “Now piss off. I’m with my girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom peels his hands away from your ears, then rubs each one of your earlobes with the soft pads of his thumbs. “Sorry about that, my darling,” he mumbles, shadows covering his features. His teeth dig into his lower lip as he sighs. “I need to go.”

You feel your face fall, and break eye contact when the intensity of his gaze grows too much. “Okay,” you mumble.

“Hey.” Tom grasps your chin between his index and his middle finger. “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. You know he can feel your reluctance to let him go, can see it on your face without you having to verbalise it. You wonder if he’s been able to tell how unsettled you feel about the whole ordeal, and if maybe that’s why he’s let you be more clingy this week.

“What if you don’t?” you breathe out, unable to keep it in. You blink a few times, trying to hide the watery film of tears that shakes across your eyes. “What if something happens to you whilst you’re away, and you don’t come home?” You reach down and grab at his shirt, clenching your knuckles around the crisp material. “Tom, you are my home. I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

“I’ll come back, baby.” He kisses you softly, a few fingers brushing up beneath your chin and tilting you to him. “I always will. I promise. I’m a man of my word, so you know that’s true.”

You manage a thin smile, heart aching even as Tom cups your face in his hands. “I love you,” you say finally. “And I’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

Tom nods. His cheeks are still flushed, and his hair is a mess, but the fire in his eyes is undeniable. When he deposits a light kiss to your cheek and then lets his lips brush you against your earlobe, you know that he’ll be back. You know he’d never fail you.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A month passes. You miss Tom desperately.

For the first three weeks, you manage to control the sadness in your chest. Finding distraction in your job and your friends, you’re able to forget about the giant Tom-shaped hole in your heart. He lingers on, though, his love persistent even in his absence. Despite finding certain ways to limit your anguish, like daily calls, and soaking your wrists in his cologne each morning, the time only worsens your heartache. You’re miserable without him.

In the fourth week, it reaches the point where you can no longer pretend you aren’t aching for him. You miss him in a way you’ve never felt before, his absence from your home like a sharp spire ever-present in your chest, burrowing deeper every lonely morning. Tom can’t ease you, doesn’t know himself when he’ll be able to come home. The job he’s had to do has spiralled, with mutinous men and delayed shipments, and it’s in too precarious a position for him to leave and come back to you. When you’d suggested visiting, he’d immediately wiped that option from the table, citing the acts of violence and uneven atmosphere as too great a risk to take. You understand it, but you miss him, and it permeates every part of your life.

It’s late Tuesday night, and in a fitless trance, you find yourself walking up to the third floor of the mansion. When you’d moved in, almost a year ago, Tom had tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible. In his efforts, he’d installed an art studio for you to use. The gesture went in tandem with his greatest gift to you so far—your very own art gallery, right in the centre of London. The studio is a large room, framed with huge windows which overlook the sprawling estate. Tonight, all you can make out is the dim driveway and the crescent moon, hanging thinly in the sky.

After turning on some music and slipping on your painting apron, you take your place in front of your easel. As you stare at the blank canvas, your fingers shift up to absently run the line of Tom’s ring. It hangs on a chain around your neck, silver and bold. You hadn’t realised that he’d left it with you until you’d reached into your pocket the day of his departure and found it sitting there. You know the matching ring stays wrapped around his pinky finger, and it brings you a sense of comfort to trace the smooth band and feel connected to him, even in a small way.

You decide to paint Tom, trying to coax him to life from your memories. Shades of gold and brown take form over your canvas. With every brush stroke and flick of your wrist, you feel lighter, some of the ache lessening.

Hours pass, interrupted only by the ringing of your phone. Biting back a small curse word as you feel your concentration shatter, you put your paintbrush down and tug your phone from your back pocket. Your frown fades as you see Tom’s name, flashing on the screen besides an image of his face.

“T,” you greet, the relief in your voice obvious even to you. “Hey.”

There’s silence for a few moments, then his voice crackles down the line. “Hi, darling,” Tom speaks. “It’s not too late to talk, is it?”

You glance up at the ornate clock sitting on the wall. The feature is grand and solid gold, matching the themes of the rest of his house. Tom likes decadence. His luxurious touch is evident in the patterns of red, black, and metals that cling to each article of furniture. When you see that it’s 2am, you blink a few times, shaking off your surprise as you realise how much time has passed since you’d started to paint.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I’m painting.”

“Ahhh.” You hear the rustling of sheets, and you imagine Tom in bed. He’s probably bundled up in sweats and a hoodie, sprawled out across his mattress. The house in Manchester always runs cold, and you’ve heard his complaints consistently for the last few weeks. The image of him resting up against the headboard, pouting from beneath a pile of blankets makes you smile. “What are you working on?”

You smile into your phone, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “You,” you tell him. “Just your eyes at the moment, and the outline of your hair.”

“Me again?” Tom speaks, and his tone is like soft velvet, gentle and crushing at the edges. “I’m flattered, darling.”

“Mmm.” You fiddle with his ring. “I’ll need to dedicate a wall to you in the gallery. You’re my favourite muse.”

Tom chuckles. “That’d be an honour,” he says, voice dropping in volume. “It’s a privilege to be loved by you.” His voice twangs sadly, and you feel yourself frowning.

“Are you okay, baby?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. You find yourself biting your lip.

“Yeah,” he says, voice thicker. “Long day.”

“What did you do?”

He sucks in a harsh breath, air catching on the back of his teeth. “Can we just talk about you for a minute?”

Worry furrows your brow. “Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllable as you scramble for words to fill the gap. “Today I visited your mother.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted me to show her how I made those biscuits, from your birthday last year?” You pause until he makes a noise of recognition. “Ended up staying there for a while, had some tea. Gossiped about you.”

Tom snorts. “Learn anything good?”

“Only that you were just as much of a terror as a child,” you reply. “She sent me photos. I’ll text them to you later.”

It’d been a sobering experience to see Tom so animated and innocent as a child, but you don’t tell him that. So much as changed since he was seven and running through a field with his brothers. He has lost more than you could ever fathom.

“Did she show you the one with my head half shaved?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say, smiling against the phone. You’re holding the device tightly in your fingers, clinging to it almost desperately. “I can’t believe Harry did that to you.”

“Well, I did piss him off,” Tom reasons. “I got him back, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, darling. Put a bunch of, like, millipedes and creepy crawly things in his bed.” Tom pauses to laugh, his voice lighter. “He hated me for about a year after that. Tried to kill me with his eyes every time he saw me.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a nightmare,” you respond. “I’m seeing him at the weekend, and Sam. I can’t wait to get their perspectives on the demon you used to be.”

“I’m still a demon now, darling.”

“Yeah.” You lick across your lower lip, mind briefly darkening. He can be particularly devilish, whenever the mood strikes. “Love you, though.”

“And I love you.” Tom’s quiet again for a few moments, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, “I love how much you like my family. It’s really special to me that you get along with them.”

You suck on your lower lip. “Of course,” you reply. “I love them. They… They feel like my brothers too, sometimes. Is that weird?”

“No.” You hear rustling again, followed by a soft grunt as he tries to find a better position to lay in. “Darling, family is everything to me, you know that. It’s a joy to see you fit in with my family, and I know they love you like a sister, too. Mum’s always saying how she sees you like a daughter.”

You glance up at your canvas, the shapes blurring with unshed tears. “She said that today, actually,” you murmur.

“Exactly.” Tom’s voice is passionate, alight and engaged. You can feel his strain. “You’re family.”

The air between you stills, and you wonder if he knows that you’re on the verge of tears, if he knows how grateful you are to him for inviting you into his life and letting you touch each piece of him without hesitation. The intricacies of his soul have gone so long unfelt, but he’s let you handle them, let you dust them off and admire them.

“Show me your art?” Tom adds, voice slightly thicker. “Please?”

“One sec.” You swallow down the hot lump of emotions that press at the back of your throat and pull your phone away from your ear. After briefly tousling your hair, you tap at the screen and enable the video setting. You flip the camera so it’s facing out in front of you, the canvas being framed by your phone screen. “This is what I’ve been doing today… Over there are the ones from the last few weeks.”

Tom spends a few minutes on a virtual tour of your studio, cooing soft words of endearment as you talk him through each piece. He’s tired, his voice often interspersed with soft yawns and grunts of fatigue, but he blows away all suggestions of disconnecting. Your tour takes you all throughout the house, showing him the slight alterations you’ve made to a few pieces of furniture in his absence. You end up in your bedroom, showing him the new blanket you bought for your bed.

“I want to see your face,” you whine, finally settling in bed. You’re laying on his side, head resting on top of the pillow that smells of him. Tom had watched you change into pyjamas, witnessed you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. All you’ve had is a black screen. “How am I supposed to sleep without seeing you, Tommy?” You pout at the blank phone, trying really hard to get him to yield. It’s 3am now and you’re delirious with fatigue, but you’re craving him more than ever.

“I don’t look nice, though,” he complains. “I look ugly.”

You practically recoil at the words. You hope he can feel the ferocity in your gaze as you glare at your phone’s camera.

“You don’t,” you say. “You never look anything short of handsome.”

Tom chuckles. “You’re too kind,” he says, “but really. I got beat up a bit. My face is all…” He makes a sound of nonchalance. “Well.. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know the gory details.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead at the word gory. “Show me,” you ask, voice softer. You snuggle further into bed, pulling the sheets further around your figure and trying to pretend you’re being hugged by your boyfriend instead of the feather down duvet. “Please, baby. I’m worried.”

Tom sighs. “Okay, but before I show you, you have to promise not to freak out.” As he sees your widening eyes, he adds. “Exactly! Don’t freak out! I’m fine. Can’t even feel it, the amount of painkillers I’m on. I’m alright.”

“...Okay.”

A few moments pass, and you hear him curse as he clumsily presses at the screen. When your phone lights up, showing a depiction of your boyfriend’s face, you have to bite back a gasp. Bruises cloud his left cheek, deep shades of red clinging to his cheekbone. There are scratches, too, riddled with scabs and lined with pink skin. The most obvious and upsetting sign of his injury however is his nose.

“Did you break your nose again?” you ask, voice soft. The skin beneath his eyes is bruising, and there’s a dark mark across the bridge of his nose.

“No, thank god,” Tom murmurs. “Just got hit on it.”

He’s laying in bed too, and you turn onto your side and prop him up on one of the pillows so it’s as if he’s laying beside you. With a dark burgundy hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring his curls, he looks pale and tepid. His cheeks are sunken, and it’s not just from the injury. Tom seems exhausted.

“Are you okay, apart from that?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay, Tom?”

He offers a weak smile. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” His voice fades with each iteration. You watch as Tom bites his lower lip, then reaches up to press his fingers into the tense lines of his pebbled forehead. “Just tired, darling. It’s been a busy week.”

“Come home,” you say, sleepy and wistful. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t, my darling,” he mumbles. Tom’s eyes look at you sadly. “Things would fall apart.”

“You’re falling apart.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

Tom’s quiet for a while, and you watch him swallow. He gives you a tense nod, lips pulled into a frown. “I have to be.”

His words hurt you, but you know you shouldn’t push it further. Not with his eyes glassy and his chin twitching.

“You don’t,” you say softly. “Come home.”

Tom hums. His eyes are like two diamonds, holding the weight of the world, of a life so recklessly lived. His gaze skitters across your phone, and he arches a brow when he sees you stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, darling.”

You wish you could hold him, or touch him. You wish you could get anything more than the static and the empty bed.

“Night, Tom,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, baby.” Tom puckers up his lips and blows you a kiss. You return it, lips tweaking into a soft smile. “Love you more than anything.”

Your voice feels thick as you echo the sentiments. “Talk tomorrow,” you murmur, tired. “Love you.”

“Bye, bye, bye.”

You’re the one to disconnect, unable to take the imminent heartache that comes with being the last to say goodbye. Tom fades, and you let your phone fall over.

The pain returns, pressing into your heart. It’s raw and cold, and it makes you shiver. A few tears soak into the pillow that smells of him, cool against your hairline.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up the next morning, slowly at first, then all at once.

It’s light in your bedroom. Your sleepy mind wonders if you’d forgotten to draw the curtains when you’d crashed out last night. As you bemoan the bright light that hurts your closed eyes, you slowly twitch awake. Feeling an ache in your arm, you try to move, only to find something rendering you incapacitated. You frown in your tired haze, trying again to move, just to stay exactly where you are again. Your brows furrow next, and you slowly rouse to consciousness as you try to work out what’s going on.

Your heart rate spikes as you realise there are two arms wrapped around you. Warmth envelops you, pressing into your back, your legs, your waist. You jerk awake, panicking for a moment before you feel his lips on your shoulder, and smell the familiar scent of him.

“Shh, darling. It’s me.”

Immediately, you roll over, twisting in his arms until you’re looking at him. His eyes are soft, hair a mess, and he offers you the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Tom?!” you exclaim, voice catching in the back of your throat. “H-How— but—?”

Both of Tom’s hands go to your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a blinding morning kiss. You sigh as warmth fills every part of you, his lips washing away the angst and the sadness you’d felt just hours earlier. You moan into it, a soft rumble, and curl into him. As you run your hands over his bare form, you appreciate how his muscles are firm and supple beneath your fingertips. You map him out attentively, touch dipping into the shades of his muscles as you try to imprint him to your memory again.

When Tom breaks the kiss, he presses his lips to the tip of your nose. As his warm breath fans out across your face, he stares at you, eyes gentle. Keeping one hand on your cheek, Tom lets the other drift down. When he reaches your neck, he tugs at the chain you keep looped around your throat, his nimble fingers going to play with the ring on the end, still there, hanging between you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says slowly. He pulls on the chain and brings you in nearer, kissing you again, softly. “We said goodnight, and...”

Your hands are in his hair, gently stroking the mane from his face. It’s longer now, thicker and brighter than before. You push it away and look at his features. The bruises don’t seem as pronounced now, and you think he must’ve spent time in the sun. Light freckles dust the bridge of his nose, slanted and wonky but perfect nonetheless.

“Hmm?”

Tom licks his lips. “I couldn’t stay away any longer. I left it all to Haz.” Again, he steals your lips in a kiss. He follows up the action with several more, light dustings in quick succession. He tastes minty, and you wonder how long he’s been cuddling you. “I don’t care if we lose Manchester. I don’t care if we lose everything.” He swallows seriously. “I can’t lose you.”

“You were never going to lose me,” you whisper. You brush your thumb across his unscarred cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I missed you,” Tom whines. He drops his face, lips drifting down to suckle at the base of your neck. You giggle as he leaves tickling kisses all over your skin, mouthing at all the spots that make you laugh until he’s found his way up to your lips. With a hand on your jaw, fingers on your chin, he guides your face to look at him. “Time away gave me a lot of time to think,” he adds, voice drifting lower. A shadow of a doubt passes over his face. “I spent a long time pondering.”

“Yeah?” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly, you’d be concerned. Instead, you continue to muss your thumb across his cheekbone, gazing at him adoringly. “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Well…” Tom lies back, sitting up with his elbow digging into the pillow as he turns to rest on his side. You mirror his position, stretching out your legs beneath the covers as a small yawn slips past you. “I realised that you’re the only person who makes a nice cup of tea. Even I can’t make one as well as you.”

You smile softly. “Don’t let Harrison hear that.”

He chuckles. “He’d be a bitch about it.” Tom’s eyes slide over your figure, gaze soft. You hum in quiet agreement, and he sucks in another breath. “I realised that no one else loves my friends like you do, and the same with my family.” Tom reaches out, hand slithering beneath the duvet until he finds your waist. His fingers are smooth, without the jewelry that usually adorns them. His calloused fingertips roll across your hip, and everything about the moment feels bare and authentic. “I love you now, and I know that I’ll love you forever.”

Something inside your chest clicks, and you find yourself looking at him a little differently.

“Where’s this all coming from?” you ask, looking at him, eyes wide.

“My heart.” Tom pulls you a little closer, and you think you see him swallow nervously. “C’mere, angel.” He turns and lays on his back, gently coaxing you to straddle him.

You settle over him, laying on top of his bare chest. He’s in boxers, and they rub up against your shorts as you shift around on top of him. Tom’s hair presses into the white pillow, wild and messy, but not unlike a halo. With the late morning sun highlighting his worn face with golden stripes, he looks ethereal.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “Gimme a kiss.”

You bend over, and Tom greets you with a warm open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re tired and groggy as he reaches out to cup your cheek, the other hand resting on your hip. You smile against his lips as his fingertips dip beneath the material of your shirt, rubbing light circles to your flesh as you sit up eagerly and press back in. His kisses feel like droplets of fire, setting off small chain reactions with each press of his lips to yours.

When you pull back to admire him, the chain around your neck goes swinging. Your eyes widen as you hear the thump of heavy metal colliding with Tom’s chin, followed by his soft grunt.

“Oh,” you exclaim, immediately feeling your face fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I always forget about the ring on the end.” You bend over to kiss his chin, then sit up straighter, hands absently travelling along the chain. The metal feels familiar beneath your fingertips, and you sigh softly. “I haven’t taken it off since you left,” you admit. “It was nice feeling connected to you, and the ring you left—”

The words die in the back of your throat when you reach for the ring and feel two instead of one, looped side by side on the chain. Confusion twitches across your face as you look down and inspect the piece of jewelry.

Tom’s ring is still on the chain, silver and bold, but sitting beside it is a dantier ring, the band thinner. It lacks the brash family crest that Tom’s harbours so proudly, and has a diamond as its centrepiece. Your fingers go to it immediately, and you find yourself trembling as you pull it closer to your face, inspecting the perfect cut of the sparkling diamond. It’s a large jewel, but it isn’t too flashy, and the ornate twisting of the band is beautiful.

You look back to Tom, who’s watching you with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Nerves shadow every one of his features, and it’s such a rare look on him that it takes you off guard.

“Angel,” he says slowly, reaching out to take one of your hands. “I love you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together… I want to grow old with you by my side, and wake up to you each morning. I want to watch our kids muck around in the back garden, and I know… I know I’m not supposed to want these things. I don’t deserve them, and I’m being incredibly selfish even having you here with me right now, but I love you, and nothing will ever change that.” Tom squeezes your hand. “You’re the only woman in the world that I’d ever be able to love like this, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you married me.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, processing his words. Entranced, you shake off his hand and reach up, tugging off the chain that hangs so heavily from your neck. You unpick the clasp and the necklace falls open, depositing both of the rings into the palm of your hand. They sit there, side by side, and you feel a tear skate down your cheek.

“Tom,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I’d love to marry you.”

The rings press into your palm as he hurries up to kiss you, smiling against yours lips. Tom’s nose nuzzles against yours, and when he pulls back, you see his eyes are red too.

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs. “I was so worried for a second that you were going to say no.”

Your laugh is light and vibrant, and you hold out your hand for Tom to pick up the engagement ring. As he slides the engagement band up your finger, you take his ring, chunky and heavy, and tenderly press it up his finger, joining it with his fourth finger instead of his index. You bend over to kiss the rise of his knuckles, then pull back as you feel him do the same to yours. Through blurry eyes, you bring your hand towards you and admire the gem as it sparkles there.

“In what world would I ever say no to this?” you muse, after a few moments. “I want to be with you forever, Tom. You know that.” Tom’s still looking at his ring, at where it joins at his knuckle, but he glances up when you drift nearer. “I came off birth control.”

His eyes darken slightly. “I know.”

You hold his face in his hands. “You’re silly,” you say. You peck his cheek. “I need to brush my teeth,” you decide. You know exactly where this is going, and you want it to be perfect.

Tom pouts, but he helps you up from his lap. He watches you walk across the room, and his gaze stays on you as you keep the door to the en-suite open and start to brush your teeth. “Miss you, darling,” he calls out. You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster. “You look ethereal.”

When you’re finished in the bathroom, you hurry back to bed. You find your way back into Tom’s lap, sinking into him to share a fresh kiss. “Tell me more about what you want with me,” you continue, voice darker.

With a determined smirk on his lips, Tom flips you. You release a huff of air as you find yourself laying on the mattress, head on the pillow, with him suspended above you. He plants a forearm on either side of your head and gazes down at you fondly.

“I want to settle down with you,” he says slowly. “Maybe start to divide my assets, give a little bit more power to Haz. I want to focus on you.” He pecks your lips before continuing. “I want to watch your gallery grow into the most successful place in London, and I want to be by your side at every opening. I want a big white wedding, with the cake, and the confetti, and the best honeymoon that’s ever been had. I am going to spoil you rotten.”

“You already do a very good job of that.”

“I’ll kick it up a level. I’ll have to. You’ll be my wife.” Tom’s face darkens. His hand shifts down to rest over your lower stomach. “We’ll need to wait for a lot of those things to happen, but there’s one thing that I want that we can start working on right now.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel the space between your legs throb. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at his handsome face. “And what would that be?”

“Our heirs, darling.” He smirks when you whimper, warm fingers dipping beneath your shirt until he’s able to touch the flesh of your belly more directly. “I’m gonna fill you up with my babies, angel. Fuck you really good. ‘M gonna keep cumming until you’re full of me, then fuck you full again.”

You moan as he drops his face to your ear, suckling hard marks against your skin. “Fuck,” you murmur, burying your hands in his hair. “That sounds so obscene.”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you? You’re my dirty little thing, hm?” Tom bites at your neck, teeth nipping you and making you shiver. “I know you want me to cum in you so much that it drips down your thighs for hours after I’m gone. You want me to make a mess of your pretty cunt.”

“Please, Tom,” you whimper. You feel hot and bothered already.

“Eager, darling?” Tom sits back and gently reaches for the hem of your pyjama top. You bring your hands above your head as he gently tugs it up your arms, throwing it off to the side without thought. He crawls back over you and seizes your breasts in his hands, his metallic ring like a cool shock against your skin. When he nibbles at your nipple and follows up the action with a lap of his tongue, you whimper.

“Don’t be a tease,” you beg, squeezing your thighs together. “I need you, Tom. Haven’t been with you in so long.”

He looks up at you, tit held between his lips. Tom winks as he gives the bud a noisy suck, then pulls back to address the other. He keeps his thumbs busy, and as he moves away his mouth, he replaces his touch with the pad of his fingers, swirling his spit around your skin with ease.

“There’s no rush,” he announces. He keeps his hands on your breasts, kneading softly and stimulating your nipples as he knows you like, but his mouth starts to move. Tom trails light kisses down your form, keeping his eyes on yours. He observes you through darkened eyes. “Don’t whinge,” he adds, the tips of his teeth sparkling ravenously. “I’m going to fuck you so well you’ll cry, but not yet. Let me enjoy this.”

His promise makes you squirm, and Tom takes advantage of the fact your hips are off the bed and tugs your shorts and panties down your legs in one fell swoop. As you part your legs, you invite him closer, biting back a frown as Tom settles between your thighs but pays your legs attention instead of your centre. Your folds are slick already—you can feel them wet, hot, pulsing with more urgency the longer you spend watching your boyfriend’s muscles flex as he draws his lips across your figure.

Tom teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re quivering. His lips draw down to your shins, his whole body sliding down the bed until he’s just out of reach. You lean back against the pillow and try to enjoy it, revelling in the warmth that he dusts across your bare skin with each small kiss. Tom traces love hearts up your legs with his fingertips, drawing large ones over each one of your knees before tracing over the outline with his tongue. As his spittle cools over your skin, Tom finally parts your thighs.

“Such a pretty sight,” he moans, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt. You think he’s going to dive straight in, but then he smirks, and you know that was just wishful thinking. Instead, Tom nuzzles his nose against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and goes back to kissing.

He’s needier now, moving with fervour. Sucking harshly, you know he’s marking your inner thighs, drawing an arrow towards your centre with a line of bruises. He delineates his journey, marking out the precise route he needs to take up to your sweet lips as if leaving instructions.

“Tom, please,” you moan. He’s so close to you that you can feel his hot breath coming out across you. He looks up at you and throws out a wild grin, his eyes bright and his smirk as bold as ever. “Please stop teasing me.”

He hums softly. “Okay, my darling,” Tom murmurs. You release a deep sigh of relief. “But only because I can’t go another second without tasting my pussy…” His thumbs gently move along your petals, light with his touch and teasing you until your cunt clenches around nothing. “You don’t mind if I’m a little rough, do you, angel?” He blinks up at you innocently. “I tend to get a little bit lost in you, but you know that by now, don’t you?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Give me anything… ‘m aching for you.”

Tom’s devilish smirk makes you wonder if giving him complete control was a good idea, but the thought goes flying from your mind as he nuzzles his face closer and finally indulges himself. Moaning loudly as he tastes you, his lips gradually envelop your clit, hot tongue lightly glancing off the engorged rise of the bud as you cry out. He’s wet with you, letting his tongue make your slit all messy.

Tom brings two slender fingers to your lips and parts them in a V. His nose brushes up against your clit as he slowly moves down. As the thick muscle of his tongue presses against your dewy entrance, he emits a low-pitched moan.

“God, darling,” he purrs. “Tastes even sweeter than usual.” As the vibrations of his words thrum over your cunt, you shiver and grab at his hair. One of Tom’s hands grabs at your inner thigh, pushing it up and opening you wider until he’s able to move deeper. You gasp as both of his thumbs shift down to hold your lips apart, tender petals parting easily.

As Tom slides his tongue into you, your eyes roll back in your head. You squirm against the sheets as wetness drips between your cheeks, a mix of your heat and his spit as Tom devours you. He moans against you, dragging his tongue against your tender walls. The sensations of his smooth muscle twisting against your sensitive pussy makes you shiver, and when he adds a thumb to your clit, you cry out loudly.

“Tom, oh fuck.”

He traces around your bud with a light finger, teasing the edge of the bud with his fingernail. Impatient and needy, you rut down against him, a choked sob bubbling up in the back of your throat. Your chest is heaving, your nipples perked and erect, and your fingers shake as you hold him to your heat. Tom seems to go deeper with each thrust of his tongue, moaning as he makes you messy, leaving no part of you untouched.

You call out a quiet warning, blind with lust and on the verge of tears. “‘M gonna cum,” you mewl. “Feels too good.”

He hums aggressively against you and dives deeper with his tongue, touching your clit until you peak. The feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against his face makes you whine, rutting down against him as you ride it out. Tom takes it, stays pliant as you grind onto his tongue, continuing to stimulate your passage until your back arches from the bed and you break into a hot sweat. When Tom pulls back, he’s quick to replace his tongue with two fingers, and the moan you release is garbled and excessive.

“T-Tom,” you cry out. He curls his index and middle finger into you with ease, his fourth dropping down to rest between your cheeks. You can feel the metal of his heavy silver ring, cool against your skin. “S’too much.”

He finally looks up at you after an eternity admiring your heat. His eyes are wide and feral, his chin coated in your juices. You whimper as you see streaks of white cum clinging to the early morning shadow of his chin. Tom grins inquisitively as he thrusts his fingers faster, your heat so slick and open that the movement draws out loud noises.

“I don’t think it’s too much, darling,” he mumbles. “I think you’re being my good girl, hm? We’ve barely started.” He drops his lips and nuzzles further between your legs, looking up at you with your clit held loosely in his mouth. He gently laps across the rise before releasing it and pressing a light kiss to the engorged bud. “I’m going to make you cum so much you forget your name, lovie. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you today and for every other day of our lives.”

You like the sound of that, and your cunt throbs persistently as Tom curves his fingers up and his fingertips brush against your ridged g-spot. As your hips threaten to spasm from the bed again, Tom sits up and shifts his arm, so it weighs down your lower stomach. “More,” you decide, hearing your heat prickle as Tom speeds up his fingers.

He adds his ring finger, and you cry out as the smooth band of metal presses up against your entrance. The contrast of cold against the ravaging fire of your hole is almost orgasmic in itself.

“Pretty little pussy,” he muses. “Need to stretch you out for my cock, da’ling. Haven’t taken me in so long, I don’t want to hurt you when I stuff you full.”

You’re so wet. You can feel the flat of Tom’s hand coated in your arousal, hear your heat as he fucks you. You try to pay attention to him, but you find yourself slipping when he drops his lips back to your bud and starts to suck on it. As Tom traces incessant circles over your clit, he alternates between long laps of his tongue and more focused kitten licks. Your desperate fingers curl around the silky sheets as you recognise that he knows your cunt well, and he’s learnt the right angle and depth that he needs to travel to in order to get you to the edge. He’s persistent and ruthless in the pursuit of his objective.

You peak for the second time as he curls his fingertips up against your tender g-spot, moaning around your clit under you’re crying out. Your eyes burn with tears as you call out his name, voice clouded by curse words and desperate sounds of enjoyment. You’re loud, thrashing in the sheets until he has to reach up and press you into place, not moving as he continues to stimulate you through it. It feels unending—an eternal tunnel of throbbing pleasure, your cunt squeezing his digits until it’s almost too much.

When you grow too sensitive, you tell him as much, and Tom pulls back to reach blindly for your hand. He finds it, then separates from your mound. His fingers slowly slip from your aching cunt, causing you to gasp, but he softens it out by kissing over the knuckles of your other hand, then your lower stomach.

“Perfect, angel,” he coos. Tom pushes your legs shut again, being careful not to hurt you as he crawls on top of you. He squeezes your hand as he continues to kiss all over your stomach, hips and chest, retracing his tracks from earlier until he finds your nipples. You moan as he laps at both of them messily before moving up to your face and kissing you intensely. His tongue tastes of your juices, your arousal sticking to his tongue. The tangy hue sticks to your own mouth, and you moan as you taste it.

“God, I love kissing you,” he murmurs against you, voice rumbling into you. Tom gasps your face with his clean hand, holding you tightly. “Could do this for the rest of my life.”

You’re hungry as you chase him, body tired but craving more. As Tom starts to roll his hips against yours, the press of his length to your centre makes you excited.

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit. The blend of you and him makes you feel ravenous.

“Really?” Tom sits up, his face flickering with enjoyment as you start to grind up against his hips. He circles his waist against yours, both of you enjoying the little pleasure until you find the capacity to nod. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”

You lick your lips, watching the way he stares at you. “Yeah,” you say. “Tastes of you, too.”

Tom reaches up, and with the hand still covered in your juices, he feeds three fingers into your mouth. You moan around them as he imitates thrusting motions, smearing your cum over your tongue. There’s a metallic twang as he pushes deeper, his ring brushing up against the tip of your tongue as he fucks towards your throat. The taste makes you shiver.

“There you go, clean me up,” he coaxes. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before hovering above you. Tom’s eyes, dark and hungry, shift down to your lips, and he raises a brow. “Such a pretty mouth. Wish I had time to fuck it, too, but shit… I need to be in you, darling.”

When he pulls his fingers from your mouth, you feel empty. Your tongue is light—too light. A pout settles over your lips.

“Why are you frowning?” Tom adds as he sits back on his shins. You sit up a little straighter, strength regained as you watch him move around and shed his boxers. You almost moan as you watch his cock spring free, tall and flushed red. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Feel empty without you,” you respond.

Tom slides over you again, and you part your legs. With ease, he slots himself between your thighs, his throbbing crown resting against your clit as your wet lips envelop the rest of his member.

“Well, you’re going to be very full soon,” he murmurs, looking up to kiss your jaw. He waits above your lips, quirking a brow. “Open, then, if you’re so needy.”

Your teeth catch your gnawed lower lip before you follow instruction, opening your mouth for him. Tom presses one of his hands against your shoulder as he leans up. He rests a thumb to your chin and looks down at you, eyes glimmering with mischievousness as he puckers his lips and hums. A moment later, Tom spits into your mouth, his dirty spittle falling onto your tongue. He groans at the sight, and you reach up to grab at his broad shoulders as the heat of the possessiveness rolls over you. Tom chases his action with a deep kiss, his fingers rolling back down to pull up your thigh and open you for him.

As he enters you, it’s a smooth movement. Everything flows together—your tongues, your bodies, your hearts. Tom’s able to guide himself inside you almost seamlessly, and you’re so aroused already that the stretch is comfortable.

“Fuck,” you gasp, falling back from his lips.

“Oh, god,” Tom groans. “That’s it. Fuck yeah.” He kisses you again as he slowly pulls out, sliding back into you with ease. His lips are hot as they rest on yours, unmoving as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he continues to thrust into you. Tom’s building it up slowly, rutting deeply against your heat as his member explores your walls. It’s a little clumsy before he establishes a rhythm, his groove coming back after a few weeks apart, but when he gets it right, it feels otherworldly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, dropping his face against your shoulder. You bury your hands in his hair, fingers tensing around his strands when he bites at your skin. “Love of my life,” he coos. “Love this pussy more than life itself. Love you more than anything.”

Overwhelmed, you hum, the sound twisting into a gasp as he grinds against you and the crown of his flushed length hits your sensitive spot. “God, yeah,” you agree. “Feels so good, Tom. Go deeper.”

He obliges you for a few moments before his rhythm fades, and he stills with his cock stuffed deep within you. Your fingers play with his hair as you feel him kiss your shoulder, then follow up the action with a lap of his tongue.

“I want you on top, darling,” Tom grunts, words smearing against your neck. He’s panting, hot breath making your skin wet. “Need to see my beautiful wife.” You clench around him, and you feel him chuckle into your shoulder.  “C’mere,” he coaxes. “I’ll help you up.”

It’s dizzying to readjust, but as soon as you’ve taken your place in Tom’s lap, you feel better. You’re impossibly close, able to watch his face constrict with pleasure every time you lower yourself on him. He’s got his head thrown back against the headboard, half-closed eyes watching you, ringed-fingers digging into your hips.

“Tom,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” Your eyes are rolling back, your body trembling as he helps you move. With each bounce down, Tom ruts his hips up to meet you, and when you shift slightly to the side and lean forward, his tip brushes up against your spot. Arcs of electricity zing through your centre, adding layers to your enjoyment.

“The way that you look right now should be breaking the law,” he says, voice held tight. Tom grabs one of your tits in his palm, roughened thumb toying with the nipple until you squirm. “You’re stunning, angel. All mine…” he drops down to kiss at the base of your neck. “Mine forever.”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m yours,” you stammer, voice hitching as his index finger trails back down to your bud. It knocks you off balance how quickly your third high threatens to surge across you.

Tom sees it on your face, growls as he feels you clench around him. “Come on, darling. Give me another one.” His greedy fingers continue to move your hips as the others play around with your clit. The bud tingles, stimulated beyond anything you’ve felt before, but the ache makes it better. “Always the prettiest when you cum, angel. Make the prettiest sounds too. Go on, my love. Let me hear you sing for me.”

It takes a few moments for you to peak, and when you do, you go loose in Tom’s arms. It ripples over you like a blur, your limbs feeling equal parts boneless and taut. Everything fades, pulled back to the bare primal motions of orgasm, warmth spreading through your entire body until it consumes you.

No sooner have you finished your release does Tom scoop you up in his arms and press you back against the mattress. He continues to drill into you, moving roughly against you, grinding his hips into you. Both of you are sweaty, and the space between your legs is sticky from all the aroused fluids that you’ve released, but he doesn’t care. He buries himself in your heat, losing himself in the feelings as you claw at his back, unable to comprehend the pleasures of overstimulation on a scale as intense as this.

“You’re okay, yeah?” Tom says, pulling away from your neck to stare at you. You’re slack-jawed and panting, but you nod. He likes to push you, and you like being stretched to your limits, but he never does it cruelly. He’s always attentive as he picks you apart, slowly breaking you open until you’re shattered into pieces that only he can reassemble. There’s love behind everything he does with you.

“Yeah,” you manage, voice broken. Hot tears of enjoyment pool in your eyes, a muffled groan leaving you when Tom reaches for your thigh and tugs it open roughly. You curl your leg around his back, allowing him in completely, and as you gain that familiar friction back against your g-spot, you melt against the sheets.

“You know what I’m going to do, angel?” Tom grunts. He’s heavy on top of you, body a blur as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper. “I’m going to get your initials tattooed on my ring finger, so you’re there even without the ring.” He stares down at your face, love swirling in his frenzied eyes. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so good for the rest of your life, darling. I promise you that. Yeah.” He nuzzles at your cheek, hot breath panting across your skin as he drops his voice to a gritty whisper. “I’m gonna love you, cherish you, fucking adore you… Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Tom slows his thrusts, his hips stammering in a way suggestive of the way he’s near a peak and wants to put it off. With an intensity that you’ve never seen before, he reaches down, balancing on his strong arms until he’s able to rest his hot palm against your lower stomach. He presses against your skin as he thrusts into you a few more times, slowing but burying himself deeper.

“Can you feel me?” he says. “I’m in so deep, darling. I can feel everything. Such a wet pussy. So greedy.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “You’re so big, T. I can’t think about anything else.”

“Mmm, good, ‘cos you’re the only thing I’m thinking about right now.” He dances his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach, contrasting the gentleness as he drops his head to the crook of your neck and nips at your skin. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he admits roughly. “Thought about it every night I was away.”

“Yeah?” You brush your hands through his sweaty hair, tugging as he drives a little deeper.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Go on, touch your clit.” Tom waits until you’ve done as instructed to continue with his musings. “Thought about how you’ll look, belly all swollen with my cum. I love those pretty whimpers you make when I pull out, and my seed pours down your thighs. Can’t wait to fuck it back into you until you’re crying.”

“—oh god,” you whine.

“Mm, yeah. I felt you clench then, darling. I know how much you like the idea of taking fuckin’ everything I give you.” Tom presses firmer against your lower stomach, accompanying the action with a particularly hard rut. “You’re gonna feel me here, lovie, right in your womb. Gonna stuff you to the fucking brim until there’s no chance you aren’t pregnant. Gonna fill you with my babies, give us the heirs we both deserve.”

“Please,” you beg, voice broken. It’s overwhelming in the best way, your bud rebelling as you toy with it. But you’re persistent, matching the deep rolls of Tom’s hips as you feel another climax stir in the pit of your stomach. Everything feels so fluid and wet that it’s hard to tell where you stop, and Tom begins. He’s tangled up so completely in you that he has become part of your existence. “Please, Tom, I want it.”

“What do you want?” Tom teases. He’s a devil, looks up to smirk at you. You can feel how badly he wants to snap into release just from the way he’s controlling his thrusts, but he isn’t going to cave until he gets exactly what he wants. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I know you can do it.”

He’s in so close, lips on your cheeks, chin, nose, and lips. His heat envelopes you, clouding your brain. With each nudge of his tip deeper against your walls, you get closer to losing it, clinging to the firm muscles of his back like it’s your only lifeline.

“Give me it all,” you choke out. “I want it, Tom, deep in me. Want you to fill me up with your cum.” His curls are sweaty as you reach up to fist your trembling hands in them, entirely at his mercy. “Wanna feel you lose yourself in me.”

“Mmm, okay, baby,” he groans. His voice is broken, thick and tired from exertion. He kisses you roughly, all tongue and teeth, the noisy meshing sounds of your lips mingling with the chaos of his hips slapping down against yours. “Oh fuck,” he pulls away to say. “Oh fuck. Oh—”

With a heavy grunt, Tom finally spills. He releases a loud groan, hips snapping forwards with an animalistic force as he drives his cock deeper, shaft pulsing as your walls squeeze around him. You cry out, cumming for the fourth time. Your climax feels like the main attraction, as if every other orgasm has merely been part of the buildup. You push up against him, breasts pressing into Tom’s chest as your eyes screw shut, tears cascading down your cheeks as pleasure burns through you. His name pours past your lips like a prayer until it’s all that you know, all that you care to know.

It ends, and you’re trembling. Intense aftershocks rock through you, and you feel Tom kiss all over your cheeks as he coos soft words of endearment into your ear. His lips become wet, and you realise that blissful tears have skated down your face.

“Lovely girl... Best girl…” He’s gentle, tender. You jump, opening your eyes suddenly as Tom slips from you, causing your aching walls to spasm. He looks up at you, lifting a questioning brow as he reaches down towards your clit. “Finished?” he asks. When his fingertips lightly make contact with your bud, you wince. Everywhere aches, and it’s nice, but it’s enough.

“Definitely finished,” you choke out.

“Okay, okay… sorry, love.” Tom gently pulls back, flashing you an apologetic smile as he kisses your inner thigh. He shuffles around, eyeing the sight of his cum leaking from your hole, and you watch him shudder. “Fuck….” You can feel it slowly dripping from your entrance and clench your walls just to see his reaction. Tom groans, chewing his lips and continuing to stare until you shiver. He smoothes a hand over your thigh. “Sweet thing,” he whispers. “I’ll bring you some water.”

It only feels like he’s gone for a second, and you realise you’re drifting, ecstatic and loose-limbed. Tom is suddenly behind you, delicately hauling you into his arms. He sits against the headboard and pulls you into a tight hug from behind, kissing over your shoulders as you whimper softly. You can feel the soft fabric of his sweats as he settles you in his lap.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. He presses a glass of water into your hand and helps you take a sip. As the cool liquid soothes your throat, you relax into his hold. “Love you, love you… Love you so much.”

He’s so warm against you, holding you tight. Your eyes still feel wet.

“Love you too,” you say. Tom takes the glass from your hand and puts it down on the bedside table, and you turn in his arms to kiss him. Your lips feel puffy and sore, but the ache is worth the relief of feeling your fiancé’s mouth gently press to yours. You sigh as the tension leaves your shoulders, draining away as he loves you, and holds you.

“Am gonna clean you up, now,” Tom mumbles, voice soft. You look at him, curious until you feel a warm cloth pressing against your thighs. You part your legs, turning back in his arms and snuggling further into his grasp as he delicately runs the material over your centre. “Sorry, darling,” he says as you wince. He’s so gentle, but it still aches in a way that hurts.

“What time is it?” you ask, mind running slow.

Tom throws the cloth aside, then reaches out and grabs one of the thick furs that sits on top of your bed. “3pm.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you murmur, brows creasing. “What time did we wake up?”

“Around midday.”

“Wow.” You smile softly as Tom tucks you both in, covering your shivering form with the blanket. You reach up, leaving your left arm above the fur and reaching out to take Tom’s hand. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

He laughs and tangles your hands together. Tom’s palm is warm against yours, and his other hand curves around to fiddle with your new ring.

“Indeed it does, darling,” he coos. “I had a lot of fun. Did you?”

“Always.”

You watch him play with your ring for a while, his lips moving over your sweaty neck. You’re still hot and exhausted, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you tight all the same, not caring that you’re messy and still quivering from the aftershocks. Soft sentences of adoration pour from his lips as he holds you.

“After this,” Tom says, voice slow, “I thought we could have a nice bath… maybe drink some champagne, have some dinner… then I want to hear everything you’ve been up to for the last month, and maybe we can celebrate some more.”

You nod softly. Turning in his arms, you sit up to face him properly, dragging the large blanket with you and draping it over you both as you straddle his lap and rest your arms over his shoulders. The bruising is still on Tom’s face, but he looks more handsome than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a golden glow to his face, a certain lightness that you’ve never seen before. You reach down and take his hand, bringing it to your lips and ghosting your mouth over his ring.

“I love you so much,” you say, looking up at him from behind his hand. His smile is like the sunrise. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“Oh, darling.” Tom pauses to kiss you, smiling against your lips. “Don’t you know the pleasure is all mine?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

will i burn for this ? perhaps. but it’s worth it. thank u to my lord and saviour mr mob!tsh... i love u.

lmk what you think......? +++ if you want to see any more specific scenes from my mob!tom x reader universe?? any other milestones you’d like to see? lmk! <3

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3

thank you for reading!! <3<3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom smut #mob!tom #mob!tom holland smut #mob!tomfic #smut

[silverhairsimp]

MINE - Satoru Gojo - Slutty Old Men Collab Submission

CW: Gojo is a whore, Voyeurism, fingering, edging, masturbation (f,m), instructed masturbation, cursing, hair pulling, choking (more like gojo just grabs your throat a lot), Gojo doesn't give you any aftercare (sorry).

Word Count: 4,238

A.N.: Special thanks you @cherrykamado for letting me join your collab! I had so much fun writing this! Also apologies it's a few days late! I honestly didn’t edit this or read it over. I was too excited to post.

Taglist: @weebaboobs @scarlettriot @butteringg

18+ below. MINORS DO NOT ENTER.

It had been a long 48 hours. The longest 48 hours of your life if you’re being honest. From the time you left Sendai, the trip to Otakamori, and fighting a special grade upon your arrival to the island scattered city. You all knew you’d have your hands full, but jumping head first into a battle where the minutes had turned to hours due to the cursed energy definitely threw a wrench in everyone's plans of having a smooth mission. 

You were thankful for your teammates and your ability to work together. Your years at Jujutsu High, and now into your third year at the University have allowed for plenty of time to grow close to your three friends. Even your teacher, Satoru Gojo, decided to follow your group of once troublesome teenagers to college. You all were so special to him, there was no way he was letting you all go. Or should he say letting you go. 

Without Megumi, Yuji, Nobara and Gojo, the success rate of your mission would not be what it was. With the curse exercised and the exhaustion settling in, you could hear the hot springs calling your name. Unfortunately, even given the beauty of Otakamori, the only way to your next destination was by boat. 

You find yourself sitting with Nobara at the stern of the boat. Watching the land grow farther and farther away, cursed energy still feels like it’s surrounding you. 

“I have a very uneasy feeling that things are far from over,” she says.

“You’re right about that. You think this mission will be extended longer than the last one?” you ask as you drop your head between your arms and lean over the railing. Watching the waves splash up against the boat. 

“You know Gojo Sensei is going to want to go sightseeing somewhere along the way.”

You laugh because she’s right. He always wants to stop places he has no business going to. “Wanna take a bet on how lo–”

“Kugisaki, y/n.” 

Speak of the devil.

“Gojo Sensei.”

“Satoru.”

He smirks when you call him by his first name, but doesn’t say anything about it. 

“We’ll be docking within the next 20 minutes. I just wanted to make sure you both were ready to go. I’ll give you the room assignments once we are on solid ground.” 

Nobara stretches her arms above her head and yawns. “I’m gonna go get my stuff. I don’t want anyone else touching it.” And she’s off, waving her hand over her shoulder as she disappears across the deck and down the stairwell.

You step forward, almost to follow her before you’re being stopped by a large hand wrapped around your forearm. He may have his blindfold on, but your eyes are locked on each other. You can feel it. 

“Our rooms are right across from each other. Hope you don’t mind.” Gojo says.

This mother fucker thinks he’s sly. He did it on purpose. 

“You just can’t get enough of me? Can you, Gojo Sensei?” The way you drew out the last two words definitely had the white haired man shifting in front of you. You’re almost certain he shifted uncomfortably because of the way his cock reacted to the words rolling off your tongue. 

“Hm? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He whispers in your ear before walking away. 

Gojo has always had eyes for you. Ever since you joined his little team when you were in high school. Things got more and more progressive the older you got. He’d ask if you wanted extra training, not that you needed it, you were well on your way to being just as strong as he was. You’d notice the way his gaze would linger on your legs a little longer than they should. Only, that damn blindfold always protected him from catching your eyes. But you knew. This time was no different, he was up to something. 

It wasn’t long after your interaction with Gojo that the ship had finally docked. The man himself went over the room assignments but you could hardly focus. Your body was overwhelmed with the urge to take a dip in the bath and your thoughts were crowded with Yuji going on about how hungry he was.  

Once everyone had received their room key, you opted to check to see where Nobara was headed. It was no surprise the girl wanted to shower and do some online shopping while lying in bed. Seems like you were on your own for the night. 

You quickly make your way to your room while Gojo stuck around in the lobby to iron out some details for tomorrow. You were able to unpack and make your way to the bath without any interruptions. 

After rinsing off and soaking for a while, your muscles were nice and relaxed and you felt ready to shower and call it a night. You should have known your night was far from over. 

Upon stepping out of the shower, the bathroom felt much quieter than you’d expected. It was kind of late, and there weren’t many people around, but still. This was abnormal. As you reach for your towel, which had miraculously fallen to the ground outside of your stall, that’s when you hear it. 

A voice you’d recognize anywhere. 

“Oops. I must be in the wrong bathroom.” A playful laugh bubbles from his chest and his shoulders shrug to his ears. 

You move faster to grab your towel, but to him, it's no use. 

“No point in covering up now sweetheart, I’ve already seen all you have to offer.”

That doesn’t change for you. You pick up the towel and tightly wrap it around your body. Water still dripping from your hair, trickling down your legs. You can feel his eyes following each droplet, memorizing the pattern each one leaves across your skin.

“What are you doing in here Gojo?”

He hisses at your tone and the use of his last name.

“Making rounds for the night. And maybe I just wanted to pay an extra special visit to my favorite student.” He pushed himself off of the door he was leaning on and starts walking toward you. “Got a problem with that?”

You open your mouth to respond but you’re cut off with a finger pressed to your lips. His other hand is preoccupied in taking his blindfold off. “I know you don’t have a problem with it. Right?” Time stands still as your eyes meet. You know it's a dangerous game, but neither of you seem to care. His cerulean blue eyes looking deeply into yours. 

You start to shake your head, agreeing that you do, in fact, not have a problem with what is happening. The corner of his mouth curls up into a smirk as he removes his finger from shushing your lips, only to pull you in close by the back of your neck. 

Your lips are mere centimeters apart. Doing everything you can to not to look down at his, trying so hard to stay composed and maintain eye contact. But when Satoru drags his thumb across your jaw and stops on the column of your neck when he feels your pulse thumping under his touch, you crack. 

Your eyes flutter down to his lips, licking your own at how soft his look. Your eyes meet once more before the space between your bodies no longer exists. The kiss is messy, yet calculated. Soft, and hungry at the same time. 

Your focus on holding the towel against your body has become an afterthought when Satoru’s tongue pushes further into your mouth. The damp fabric drops to the flood with a soft thud. The cool air makes your body shiver and Satoru can’t help but smirk against your lips at the feeling of you writhing against him. 

He brings a hand to the back of your head, grabbing a fistfull of your hair with a vice grip. Tugging on it enough to where your head is craning back and you’re looking up at Satoru with lidded eyes. Your lips are still swollen from the way he kissed you. He flashes you a cat-like grin at what a little makeout session and lingering touches does to you. Your expression already dazed and he hasn’t even really started with you yet. 

“Been waiting a long time for this,” he starts. Still holding your hair in one hand while he begins to undo his pants with the other. “Get on your knees for me sweetheart, and hand me your phone.” 

With another tug on your hair, you’re slowly sinking to your knees. His hand lets go of your hair only to push you down further by the crown of your head. Once fully seated on your knees, you reach behind you and grab your phone off the bench next to you. Putting in your passcode and slowly extending it out to Satoru who yanks it from your grasp. 

“Come on y/n, these pants aren’t going to come off on their own, and my cock surely isn’t going to suck itself.”

You bring your hands up to grip his jeans, where the fabric of pants have already been parted at the zipper. Tugging them further down his toned thighs. The outline of is cock is so prominent in how it strains against his boxers. 

Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down and let his cock spring free. Slapping his lower abdomen once they're tugged down off of his hips. 

It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Flushed pink at the tip. Long, the perfect girth to completely fill you up. 

The glob of pre leaking from his slit begging to be cleaned up. Your eyes meet his again as you stroke him, experimentally rolling your wrist and swiping your thumb across the tip. His hips thrust forward, trying to meet your hand again. 

It’s your turn to smirk. The way his lips are parted with a slack jaw, watching you as your tongue pokes out of your mouth. Slowly dragging the flat of it along the underside. All the way up to the tip. You swirl your tongue around his throbbing member while your hand holds him at the base. 

You pull away for a second, collecting the saliva in your mouth before dropping a hot string of it on Satoru’s cock. Rubbing your hand through it to coat him completely before taking him into your mouth. 

Your pace is slow and Satoru doesn’t like it. He wants to know what it feels like to have your throat tighten around him while he hits the back of it repeatedly and roughly. He wants to hear the sounds you’ll make as you can’t help but gag yourself on him. 

So he does just that. His hand on the top of your head moved to the back, pushing you down as far as you could possibly go. He pauses, holding you there for a second to press the record button on your phone. Only when he hears the beep does he let up. 

He lets up just enough to where you can bob your head on your own. His hand stays on the back of your head, not allowing you to pull off of him. Not even for a second. 

“Fuck. If I had known I could get you on your knees this easy… I would’ve done it much sooner.” His words echo through the empty bathroom. 

You whine around his cock and he loves the way it feels around him. 

“You let anyone do this to you? Or just your dear sensei, hm?” His tone is so condescending. But you can’t help the moan that escapes you when he says it. 

“I bet your sweet little teammates would love a chance like this.” and you can’t help but shift uncomfortably at the idea of Megumi or Yuji being here. 

Gojo wasn’t dumb. He knew the way those two looked at you. He knew how their gazes lingered every time you’d walk by them. He knew the things they’d whisper to each other about you. He knew it all, and he knew because he did the exact same. But they don’t have you on your knees. He does.

He thought about staking his claim on you by sending the video of you on your knees with his cock down your throat to Megumi and Yuji, but a better idea came to mind. 

With tears starting to roll down your cheeks, Satoru is typing furiously across your phone screen. The chime of a message being sent makes your eyes go wide but you’re given no time to ask questions. Not when Satoru’s hand is now digging into your roots, pushing you so far down on his cock that your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

Within a matter of minutes (if that) the door swings open and two pairs of footsteps run inside. Two very familiar sets of footsteps. 

“Y/n!!” 

“Where are you?!”

The sound of their voices now competing with the bubbling laughter coming from Satoru’s chest. 

Your hands come up to Satoru’s thighs. Fingernails digging into the flesh as you try to push him off. But his grip only gets tighter, holding you in place. 

The footsteps come to a halt and Satoru finally lets you up for air. You’re coughing and sputtering as you try to catch your breath. 

“Look so pretty like this. What do you think, boys?” 

“Y/n… what is..” 

You finally look up. 

Megumi and Yuji standing only a few feet away. Your raven haired friend looks shocked and concerned almost. But you're usually, happy, pink haired friend, looks hurt and worried. 

You reach for the towel to cover yourself but Satoru is quick to grab your arms and hold you in place. “What.. what are you two doing here?” You finally speak up. 

“We uh, got your text…” Yuji starts. 

“Yeah, your 911 to meet you here. We got here as fast as we could.” Megumi finishes. 

“But I never…” you stop to look up at Satoru, who cracks a smile and says “Whoops. Guess that might have been me.” 

You lower your head down, not wanting to look at any of them.

“We’re gonna go then…” Yuji says, but the man to blame for all of this is quick to shut that idea down. 

“No, stay. I haven’t even fucked her yet. Can’t have you leave before we get to the good part.” 

Satoru pulls you to your feet and wraps a hand around your throat, holding you steady as he kisses you hungrily. His tongue invades your mouth and he moans at the taste of himself on your lips. 

His other hand snakes between your legs. Slipping his long fingers through your wet folds. Circling around your clit, making your legs buckle underneath you.

“So fuckin’ wet for me. You like having an audience?” He says against your lips. 

You let out a whimper and try to throw your head back but he keeps you in place. Not letting you go anywhere. 

“Take a seat you two.” Satoru says to Megumi and Yuji without breaking eye contact with you. The two of them can’t seem to actually walk away from the sight in front of them, so they obey the order of their sensei and take their seat on the bench a few feet away from you. 

With two of your best friends seated with a good view, Satoru continues his work with you. Nimble fingers still rubbing up and down your wet pussy. He drops his hand from your neck to grope and tug at your breasts. Loving the way the flesh pools between his fingers. 

His lips latch on to the column of your neck, making sure to leave his mark on you. You can feel heat rising across your face as the marks get darker and darker under his mouth. 

He can’t help but smirk into your skin at the whines and pleas that leave your lips. 

“Feels s’good ‘Toru. More. Please… I want more.” 

You reach down to the hand that’s between your legs. Trying to pull him exactly where you want him and he lets out a low chuckle this time. 

“You want more? Such a slut.” He says before taking your nipple into his mouth. Sucking and biting on your perky bud, earning more sweet sounds from you. 

You can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes. There’s too much pleasure coursing through your veins. You almost forget you have an audience until you hear a soft “fuck” fall from someone’s lips, knowing it wasn’t Satoru. 

Opening your eyes, they meet Yuji’s, who’s trying so hard not to palm the painfully hard bulge in his pants. Satoru can feel your body still against him so he pauses. Releasing his hold on you with a soft pop! He takes a second to admire the work he’s done. Smirk growing at each mark he left littering down your neck and across your chest. 

The rest of his clothes are pulled off in an instance before he’s grabbing you by the hips, guiding you to stand and face your two teammates. He takes a seat on the bench himself before pulling you down into his lap. 

“Spread your legs y/n, show them what a perfect pussy you have.” 

You look over your shoulder, eyes meeting Satoru’s again. How could you possibly tell him no. You nod your head and lean back further into his chest. Propping your feet up on his knees, giving the two in front of you a perfect view. 

“That’s it. Touch yourself for me.” He says into your ear. 

Satoru’s right hand is supporting you by holding onto your right breast, continuing to tug at your nipple and roll it between his fingers. His left hand comes up to your face, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him over your shoulder before he brings his lips back to yours. 

As your tongues push against each other you bring your hand down between your legs. Rolling your middle and ring finger over your clit, applying the pressure you know feels good. Bringing your fingers lower to dip inside your drenched hole. Another whine leaves your lips but is eagerly swallowed by the man behind you. 

You try your best to work your fingers deeper inside of you, straining your wrist to get yourself to your high quicker, but you know you won’t be able to reach that spot. Not when you know Satoru’s fingers would reach much deeper than your own. 

You do your best, working your fingers in and out of your pussy. But it’s no use. You stop your fingers and pull your lips away from Satoru’s.

“I need your fingers Satoru.” You bat your eyelashes up at him. 

“What do you think? You two think she deserves it?” He asks the other two boys in the room.

Megumi crosses his arms over his chest, trying to stay composed but can’t help the blush spreading across his cheeks and rising up to his ears. 

Yuji swallows thickly, nodding his head animatedly. His palms are pressed to his crotch as he tries to provide himself with some subtle relief. 

“Fine, but one condition. Neither of you get to touch yourselves if I touch her. Got it?” 

He doesn’t wait for a response before inserting two fingers. Already reaching deeper than you ever could on your own. 

His pace is fast as the pad of his thumb circles around your clit just as quickly. You throw your head back against his shoulder and everything feels much hotter. Your entire body rocking in his lap. He can feel you clenching around his fingers. 

Satoru lifts you up just slightly so he can reposition his cock. Having it rest underneath your ass. He’s pressing his fingers against that sweet spot that no one has ever dared to reach before. Your mouth falls open, a sharp gasp leaves your lips, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

“‘Toru, I- I’m close. Don’t stop. Fuck. Please don’t stop.” 

As if he’d ever do anything you say. 

He slows his fingers, causing you to rock your hips against his hand harder. 

“Get up. On your hands and knees, on the bench.” He instructs you. And on wobbly legs, you move. You position yourself so you’re staring both Megumi and Yuji in the eye as Satoru positions himself behind you. 

Yuji can’t take his eyes off of you. Looking at your fucked out expression, the way your tits push against each other as they hang between your arms. Megumi too, he can’t help but look at you and wonder what it would feel like to be the one behind you. 

Satoru takes his cock in hand, running the bulbing tip through your folds. Catching it on your clit a few times, making you jolt forward as he continues to overstimulate your body. He's kneading at the flesh of your ass, tugging and spreading you open for him. Loving the sight of your thighs glistening from the mess he has made of you so far. 

He lines himself up and pushes in. Your walls welcoming him and hugging him so tightly. Sucking him in deeper. Your head drops down in between your arms with your weight supported on your wrists. Letting out a long moan as he bottoms out. 

Satoru’s thrusts are rough. His hips meeting your ass in a repeated motion. His heavy balls slapping against your clit. 

“So fuckin’ good - shit. ‘Ts so tight. Gonna mold you to my cock y/n.”

He punctuates his words with even harsher thrusts than before. He moves one hand to press down on the small of your back as the other grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Wrapping the strands around his fist as he pulls tighter and harder. He pulls you up just enough so his mouth meets your ear. Whispering into it lowly so only you hear what he says. 

“Fuck, Yuji. Feels so good… ‘Gumi, harder please.” you cry out. 

Satoru grins to himself at the expressions plastered across Megumi and Yuji's faces. The two can’t take it anymore. If they don’t get some relief soon, they’re going to cum untouched. Watching you get fucked by their sensei. By your sensei. Hearing their names cry out from your sweet lips. They can't take it anymore. 

Megumi grips his pants at his knees, the flesh of his knuckles turning white and droplets of sweat start to form on his brown. He’s chewing his lip so hard, you think he might break skin. His nostrils flare as he tries not to think about all the things he’d like to do to you. 

“Megumi, please. I need more, nghn!” 

He’s lost it. His hand snakes into his pants. Stroking himself with a tight grip. Amazed at how much he’s already leaking just by watching you and hearing you cry out for him.

“Yuji! Fuck! Right there. Please baby.”

Satoru is thrusting even harder. Slower, but hard, and deep. Keening at the way your walls suck him in even deeper than before. 

Yuji doesn’t wait, pulling his cock out to stroke himself. Locking eyes with you. Imagining you on top of him as he’d thrust into you while you sit on his lap. 

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had. Holy shit. Gonna fill you up y/n, claim you as mine.”

“I wan’ it. Please ‘Toru.” 

He lets go of your hair, only to push your face down into the bench with your ass high in the air. 

“Cum for me first, gotta feel you cum on my cock.”

With a few more deep thrusts and a finger pressed to your clit, that coil inside of you snaps. It’s almost painful because of how pent up your release is. 

Your release is dripping down both your and Satoru’s legs. He’s only got a few more thrusts in him before he’s spilling inside you. Painting your walls white as hot streaks of cum fill you up. 

Just as Gojo cums inside of you, Yuji and Megumi each find their own release. Wanting and wishing that they were the ones filling you up, or painting your backside with their cum instead of having their releases coat their hand and abdomen.

He stills his hips, keeping himself inside of you while your walls continue to flutter around him. He bends down over you, caging you in between strong arms as he moves your hair off of your back. Pushing it to one side as it falls in front of your shoulder. You turn your head to meet him as he kisses you one last time before pulling out. 

“Hope you two enjoyed the show. This is as close as you’re ever going to get. Y/n will always be mine. Remember that, boys.” Satoru says as he picks his clothes up off of the ground. 

Satoru Gojo would fuck you in front of anyone and everyone just to prove a point that he, and only he, will ever have you. 

Without another word, Satoru speaks one last time before heading out of the bathroom. “Clean her up good for me, will ya? And don’t touch her. I’ll know.”

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #slutty old men collab #slutty old men collab 😈

[mackenzielovee]

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

Tags:

@hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

#drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #crazy love #rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe angst #rafe x you #rafe #rafe imagine #obx rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n

[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

.

.

.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert

[anystalker707]

Past your limits

Pairing: Ray x [afab] Reader Word count: ~ 4 100 Genre: Smut Summary: Ray is so gentle, but (y/n) has an idea about how to get him to be harsher. Kind of content: Spanking / Degrading / Manhandling / Harsh

Requested by anon [I've seen so little oneshots with ray and I'd like to add some spice in a request 💫ray x female afab reader(...)]

Ray is the gentlest person ever and as much as it can be an advantage, it is also extremely annoying when I’m trying to get him to be harsher when fucking me, though something has come to my attention the past month—Ray can easily snap if the annoyance is continuous to certain degree and also accumulated, like when he’s already sighing sharply whenever Frank or Gerard make a dumb comment by the end of the last band practice of the week or an important rehearse, hence I made an extra effort this week. Ray was holding himself back during the first days, but I doubt he will go past today; he complained about having to go fix a new pedal with Frank, Matt and Mikey the whole time while getting himself ready to leave, and I don’t think these three together may be a nice combination with Ray.

This heavier mood follows Ray as he walks past the door with a sigh and leaves his shoes by the door, eventually making his way upstairs to come down with more comfortable clothes.

“Hey, I didn’t see you there,” he hums on his way to the kitchen, “is there any dinner?”

“Yeah.” I lean forward on the couch to see him open the fridge. “You just gotta heat it up.” He stops, though, and looks at me whilst raising an eyebrow sharply. “What?”

“You know I don’t like— Whatever, it’s fine,” he sighs.

I need to hold back the smile that threatens to tug on my lips once I look over at Ray. “Sorry, there wasn’t anything else! There’s some yakisoba and instant ramen in the cabinet, though, if you want it.” Of course there is—I’m bad, but not that bad. He only bothers to hum in response, quickly going to take a look through the cabinets, and he’s already heating up the water when I walk into the kitchen. “So, how was everything?”

Ray shrugs a little, watching the water heating up. “Well, at least we could get everything we needed, y’know? But you know how the guys can be, so I swear we went from No Angel to Rock Stain at least three times, even if Mikey kept repeating the prices and the stuff for Frank and Matt.” He groans a little, and turns the stove off, moving to fill the paper cup with the hot water then cover it.

“Does sound like them...” I nod. “Wait— Hell, Ray, you didn’t go with that black shirt you were wearing in the morning, did you?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “What’s up with it?”

“It’s already all worn out and stuff, I told you to change!”

“No, you didn’t!” He glares. “And I even asked you if I looked fine or if I needed to change before I left, you could’ve said something!”

“Well, I didn’t notice!”

“Then don’t complain, please!” Ray’s eyebrows knit together as he exhales sharply, moving to grab a fork from the drawer before finally sitting down to eat. Great. It’s nice, though, how there’s still some softness lacing the frustration in his voice despite how annoyed he is.

Silence sits between us until Ray is finished eating and all the dishes are washed, and he wraps his arms around me from behind while I’m rinsing the last plate, nuzzling my neck lightly.

“What do you want?” I raise an eyebrow as I glance back at him.

“To give you love,” Ray answers, though it sounds sort of questioning. I slowly nod, a little too sarcastically, at least enough to have him narrowing his eyes and pouting at me. “I’m serious!”

“Okay.”

“I want nothing!” He groans and rests his forehead on my shoulder, and it’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he seems. Poor thing. “What’s gotten in you lately?” He lets go as I tap his arm a few times once I’ve finished washing the dishes, so I turn around, drying my hands on the dish towel. “Like, I don’t know, you’re...” He clicks his tongue and scratches the back of his head.

“I am?” I raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter whilst putting the cloth away. Ray inhales, just to let out an incoherent mumble I can’t quite catch on. “What...?”

“Nothing.” Ray shakes his head with a sigh. “Anyways, I’m tired. I’m going upstairs.”

.

“Ray!” I climb on the bed, grinning, and take Ray’s phone away from his hand to put it on the nightstand instead while moving to his lap. Of course he rolls his eyes and leans back against the headboard, sharply raising an eyebrow at me, but all I do is to place my hands on his shoulders to lean in for a kiss; he does return it, even if not so soon.

Ray deepens the kiss with a soft hum, making me sigh and melt against him, even more with the way his hands wrap firmly around my hips, squeezing and rubbing circles into them, so I don’t even hesitate to roll my hips against his, snatching a gasp from Ray. I take the opportunity to slip my tongue past his lips, meeting his hips the next time he is pushing them up, kissing him deeper, but I am soon pulling away with soft pecks so I can move off of him.

A sigh escapes my lips as I reach for my phone on the opposite nightstand... it actually gets farther. Ray takes a hold of my hips once again to pull me closer to him, so easily it’s almost a shame; I can’t even hold back a whiny groan, letting him drag me closer then adjust myself on his lap when I’m close enough, though I sit across his lap this time.

“Ray,” I sigh, “let me go...”

Ray scoffs, rolling his eyes at me, and I don’t even have time to complain at it before my back is meeting the mattress and he’s moving my legs apart to kneel down between them whilst pinning me down to the bed. “No, c’mon, you’ve been getting on my nerves the whole week, you’re not getting away with this!”

“What do you—”

“I don’t want to hear your arguing, (y/n), I’m tired of you being a brat,” he says sharply enough to send a shiver running down my spine. “What’s gotten into you this week? Honestly, it even seems like you are having fun with all of it! Fuck, it’s not even like it, you are having fun with it, aren’t you?” He falls silent and, fuck, I can’t help but to feel my cheeks heating up according to how my heart beats faster, and I almost jump with how he hums. “God, you really are!” Something between entertainment and anger laces Ray’s voice, and whatever it is, makes me want to disappear under him.

“No, I’m not!” My cheeks burn each time more with a warmth that seems to spread itself down my neck and to my ears. I mean, I wanted this to happen and all, yes, but I have the feeling it doesn’t matter what Ray does to me—or how many times he does it—, I’ll always be dumb horny.

“‘Knew there’d be a reason for you to be so fucking bratty lately!” He clicks his tongue and only lets go of me so he can move back and get rid of his shirt, looking down at me with a small grin tugging on his lips. “Thankfully, you’re not getting away with it now that I know what you’re doing. Maybe it—”

“Ray, look—”

“Safeword?” He raises an eyebrow at me, his face falling unimpressed again.

He interrupted me to ask for it? I furrow my eyebrows, thinking for a moment. “Uh, remember.”

“Good.” Ray hums with a nod before his hand meets my cheek not so harshly, but it is enough for the skin to burn a little, though I’m sure the suddenness of the slap is worse; I let my head fall to the side, pressing my eyes shut for a long moment, and as bad as it seems to be, the slap stirs something in my lower stomach. “Now, quit interrupting me, I can’t handle it anymore!” He is glaring at me when I open my eyes a little and nod.

Things take a sudden turn again, though it’s not that bad this time. Ray takes a tight grip of my hips as his lips meet mine in an urgent kiss—the urgency being his, given how he presses his lips to mine in a firm kiss that he only deepens and softens a little once I finally manage to kiss back. My lips tingle a little when Ray finally pulls away, leaving me panting whilst he continues to kiss his way down to my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking and nibbling onto the skin, and it’s difficult to decide which is better, even more with how his hands start slipping under my shirt, rubbing circles into my hips and then trailing up to my waist, where they get a stronger grip so he can pull me closer to him, easily snatching a moan from me with how his hips roll against mine. Fuck.

My hands ache and fuck, I’ve been gripping onto the sheets so damn tightly; I open and close my hands a few times as I throw my head back with a sigh, only for my breath to hitch in my throat when Ray’s teeth sink harder into a spot under my ear. He continues nibbling on it for a moment before his tongue runs across the skin a couple of times, letting the cold air hit the wet spot rather soothingly after he pulls away, mumbling something I can’t quite catch on, but he’s quickly moving down instead.

Ray pulls my shirt up to my abdomen, bending down to press his lips to the exposed skin along the way, but I can’t fucking hold myself back when his lips linger over a sensitive spot near my hip, gasping and throwing my hips up against his face—involuntarily.

“I— (Y/n)! Holy fuck!” Ray clicks his tongue and he slaps me again, this time letting the hit land across the side of my thigh, a little harsher than the last time.

“Fuck,” I gasp softly at the sting, groaning as Ray holds onto my hips again, stronger this time, pinning me down to the mattress while he goes back to what he was doing. The same happens when he reaches that spot, and his fingers dig into my hips to stop me from moving this time. A whimper escapes my throat, but I try to suppress it, trying to keep myself still as Ray’s lips trails up my body until he is eventually helping me out of my shirt, shorts, then underwear.

“Why did you do all of it, hm?” Ray raises an eyebrow at me, humming. “What was the point of—”

“You wouldn’t fuck me hard enough, that’s the point!” I glare, and it doesn’t take long until his hand is meeting my other cheek on yet another slap, sending the stinging sparkling through the skin more intensely this time, but still not bad. Hell, I really got on his nerves. A chuckle almost slips past my lips.

Ray’s eyebrows raise as he looks at me, slowly nodding. “So you were just being a fucking whore this whole time? Doing all of that just so you would get a nice fuck?” There he goes again, making me wish the mattress would swallow me or something. “Well, you better enjoy it, then!” He gropes onto my thigh, making me gasp with the force of it, though also squirming at the same time, which isn’t exactly useful given how he’s not close enough and I can’t press my thighs together; it seems to be very entertaining to him, whatsoever. “Don’t you dare cumming until I tell you to.”

My eyes widen as I glare at him. “Ray— Fuck,” I groan as he slaps the side of my thigh again, just making the lack of touch fucking worse.

A sharp sigh escapes Ray’s nose as he moves back, finally getting rid of the rest of his clothes and allowing me to press my legs together, humming softly at the 'relief'. It doesn’t last long, of course.

“Can’t even hold yourself back for a fucking second?” Ray slaps the opposite thigh this time, hence I flinch, tensing up, but he’s still able to pull my legs apart and assume his previous position. “Have you been such a slut this whole time or what? If you’ve kept that hidden until now, I’m sure you can hold yourself back, right? As much as these handprints look pretty on you, I’m not sure you’d like too many of them...” His voice gains a softer tone that has me melting against him, even more with how his hand runs up and down my thigh nicely. “A slut, yeah, but thankfully all mine,” he mumbles, and I take in a breath to complain just to let out a moan instead with Ray’s hand slipping between my legs and his fingers sliding past my folds, trailing up and down. “Soaking.”

I exhale shakily, remaining silent this time, only observing Ray as he seems to think for a moment before he is motioning for me to... what? He rolls his eyes and makes me move instead, pulling me to sit up then straddle his lap once he sits down. “Show me how eager you are, will you?”

How am I even supposed to do it? The idea of asking him about it does cross my mind, but I don’t think it would be a smart thing to do, so I just move to do whatever I want to him, starting by pulling him for a kiss as my hands rest on his chest.

Ray hums in appreciation, taking a hold of my thighs this time, giving them a soft squeeze once I deepen the kiss and let my tongue slip past his lips. As much as I want to keep going, the way my lungs achingly protest have me pulling away with a gasp sooner than I’d like, so I instead let my lips trail down his neck, not minding the salty taste of the sweat as I wrap my lips around the skin to leave back at least a mark on his neck that matches mine. I’m not sure if it’ll turn out dark enough, though, not with how feeling Ray’s leg shift between my legs has me pausing with a gasp, involuntarily letting my hips move against it.

“Ray, fuck— Please,” I groan softly against his neck, letting my head rest against his shoulder for a moment, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I need you so fucking bad, please, I’ve been needing you for the whole week!” My words are sort of muffled against him for a moment along with a moan given how I roll my hips against him again—I just can’t help it.

“Yeah, I gotta be honest, that was some great effort you put in there!” He chuckles in a way that almost makes me want to choke him so he stops, another thing I restrain myself from, sighing. “Did you have it in mind every time you annoyed me? Kept thinking about how hard I’d fuck you by the end of it? Maybe touched yourself to the thought of it? Fucking dirty whore!” I’m about to argue, but the slaps from earlier make me think, in a way I instead groan, burying my face in the crook of his neck; he chuckles again. “C’mon, you can ride me,” he mumbles lastly with a nudge on my thigh. Fucking finally.

It takes me a moment to remember how to fucking control my body, but I’m soon pulling away a little so I can position myself, with my hands on his shoulders for support. I’m about to reach down for Ray just to feel a pressure against my entrance already at the same time his hand on my thigh pulls me down, so I slowly give in to his touches, lowering down onto him.

The soft burning resulting from the stretching has me gasping, though it’s not that bad—not after a few successive nights of being home alone—, hence it doesn’t take that long until my body meets his and I give myself a short moment to start moving. It’s sort of messy at first, given how I try to look for the perfect angle to finally settle down and start a proper rhythm with it, making up for the whole time spent with teasing, and it’s fucking worth it.

“Damn, Ray,” I gasp with how a wave of pleasure makes my thighs quiver a little, only compelling me to slow down for a few seconds, but I barely have the opportunity to regain the rhythm.

Ray groans, not long before he takes a firm hold of me by wrapping his arms around my waist and leans back a little, and I don’t even have time to wonder why he’s doing it before he’s thrusting his hips upwards, his arms helping me meet him halfway, and fuck, wow.

Moan after moan slips past my lips after Ray manages to hit just the right angle, and I decide to gather the little strength I have to meet his movements, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and letting my fingers sink into his back. The sweat does make the grip difficult though, in a way my nails are trailing up his back every few thrusts; Ray’s upper back slowly gets littered with pretty bright red lines.

I take a hold of the hair on the back of his head to tug on it lightly, enough for Ray to gasp against my chest as his hips snap upwards a little harsher; my thighs quiver as I cling to him, giving myself a moment to process what happened, and I presume it was just as good for Ray given how his thrusts stutter and he pauses. At least it gives me the opportunity to start moving by myself again, rolling my hips in that way that almost makes my legs give up under me over and over until I force myself to a stop, straining a moan.

Ray raises an eyebrow at me, blowing a few strands of hair away from his face. “What? What’s wrong? Did I tell you to stop?”

I look away with a groan, at least trying to buy myself more time. “I’m... uh, ‘m close...”

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs. “I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

“But—” I cut myself of with a hiss once his hand comes in contact with the side of my thigh heavily, enough to leave back another handprint, and the worst part is that it doesn’t fucking help, only making the arousal pool quicker in my lower stomach. Still, I start moving at the moment I notice he’s going to complain again, helplessly whimpering and gasping at how the distant sensation of release only feels closer and closer... and it stops.

Ray’s hands hold me in place, still on his lap for a few seconds until he pulls me away and I move back to the mattress, carefully following his movements so I won’t do anything he doesn’t want me to. A hand on my chest gently guides me into lying back down on the mattress, and I can’t help but to admire him as he’s over me, on hands and knees. He pants heavily, with a few strands of hair stuck to his face due to the sweat as much as he tries to swat them away every few seconds. His chest heaves up and down with how he breathes, and I easily get lost at watching it for a little. A fucking god.

“Turn over.” Ray nods and I promptly do as told, propping myself up on my elbows and knees just to have my face forced into the mattress by a hand between my shoulder blades before he is easily pulling me closer to him, bringing my hips up higher with his hands around them. Am I a damn rag doll to him?

“Pretty,” he mumbles, though I don’t believe it’s directed to me nor meant to be answered, even more given how he’s slapping my ass right after, sending the warm pain sparkling through the skin shortly previous to a next slap on the opposite cheek, and I just fucking moan with it. “Hell, I love how you just like it all,” Ray chuckles, pressing a few kisses to the spot between my shoulderblades. He gives my hips a squeeze as he pulls me closer and feeling his cock pressed against me is just— Fuck, he should just fuck me and let me cum already. Loser.

As if Ray read my thoughts—or not quite because I doubt he would even fuck me again if he heard me calling him a loser—, he’s pushing in again, meeting less resistance this time and easily fucking me harder, deeper with the new position, thankfully also giving my legs some sort of a break. Well, not a proper or a good break given how my thighs shudder and quiver every few thrusts.

“Ray,” I groan into the mattress, reaching a hand down to between my legs just to have it slapped away, making me curse and click my tongue, but still reach down again a few seconds later.

“Fucking stop trying to touch yourself!” Ray groans, taking a hold of both of my wrists to hold them tightly against my back. “Can’t you fucking listen for once?” His hips snap forward with more force this time as if to reinforce what he says, though it all just makes it harder to grip onto his words, drowning my brain more and more in the horny haze that clouds it more according to how close I get to my release.

“R-Ray, please,” I gasp, a string of moans following my words, high pitched and longer.

“Hold it...” Ray mumbles, and lets out a low moan, letting one of his thrusts last particularly longer before he resumes his rhythm.

“Ray, I—”

“Shush!” Ray’s grip tightens around my wrists and I fucking let out a cry, with pain already tugging on my shoulders and leg muscles at the same time it feels each time harder to try to suppress my release.

“I—”

“C’mon, you can cum,” Ray breathes and it only takes him a couple of thrusts before the knot in my lower stomach finally fucking unravels, sending pleasure ringing up my spine and going down at once, having me curling my toes and leaving behind a throbbing sensation between my legs that matches how Ray twitches and also cums.

.

Ray is suddenly back with a cup of my favorite warm drink when I finally come back to reality, feeling my eyelids and limbs a little too heavy, but there’s somehow enough energy left in me to enjoy Ray’s softness that reigns again after releasing all the stress he had built up during the week. All the tender touches and soft kisses over each mark he left behind earlier only has me melting more and more, cursing at how hot the drink actually is so I can’t down it all at once to cuddle Ray already.

“So? How was it?” He runs his fingers through my hair, sitting beside me on the bed as he observes me carefully.

“Great,” I hum with a nod and take a sip of the drink. “Fucking awesome. I love you so much, thanks for, y’know, everything, I guess.”

A small smile tugs on his lips as he leans in to give me a peck. “That’s not something you should thank me for,” he chuckles.

“But I want to, okay?” I raise an eyebrow, humming.

Ray rolls his eyes with a small smile. “Alright.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Love you too.”

___________________

tagging list: @lubbockshusband | @trans-ylvania | @newgirlinhell

#fan fic #fan fiction #ray toro x reader #ray toro #x reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #my chemical romance #mcr x reader #imagine #mcr imagine #mcr oneshot #oneshot #mcr

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

heyy it's the giyuu simp hiding in your request box ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ mind if i sneak in another request :> just gonna slide this with a belated valentines day card

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may i request a giyuu x reader headcanons? where its just giyuu and the reader living a peacefull and happy life with their kids, just fluff of how their every day life goes and giyuu with his kids :D maybe even some headcanons of the other pillars meeting the kids and his s/o (feel free to change the idea ofcc i don't mind if you write it at all (~^.^)~)

Hello fellow Giyuu simp lolol

This sounds really cute! Of course I’ll write it! ʕ◡ᴥ◡ʔ♡

This turned out to be very long haha hope you don’t mind :)

Giyuu x Fem!Reader with Kids!! ♡

AU: Life Without Demons

♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡

♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡

Giyuu was the first to ask for kids. It was a shock since you’d figure he’d be too nervous and insecure to think he’d be able to be a father. But he loves you too much to not have children with you. He just can’t picture his life without you and both of your guys’ children in his future.

“Y/N...” he approaches you timidly, “I have um something to ask you...” he kept fidgeting with his hands and struggled making eye contact. His cheeks starting to burn. “What is it, Giyuu??” He sat there a bit, his brows knitted together as if he’d trying to figure out how to compile his sentence. “Let’s have children!” He finally bursts out boldly. You were taken back for a second but smiled wide and hugged him, agreeing with all of your heart.

Giyuu didn’t want too many kids. He only wanted about two children. (Maybe three children he’s thinking on it 👀) And that’s what you both had. One boy and one girl. The boy took more of your looks but also had a good mix of Giyuu as well. He ended up taking his eyes and messy hair but had your hair color and overall facial features. The girl was a very good mix between the two of you. The boy was the eldest child.

Giyuu was the type of parent to spoil his children a lot. You often had to stop him because it got hard for him to say no to them a lot of the times. But when it came down to it, he knew when to be strict and stand his ground. Like if one of your children throws a tantrum for not getting the toy they want, Giyuu would have a stern tak with them about how they need to learn the importance of being told “no” and to handle it like a “big boy/girl”

Giyuu would also do whatever it takes to help you with anything around the house or with the kids. He’d also do anything to spend as much time with his children as possible.

Giyuu also secretly loved it when his kids would get nightmares and ask to sleep with the both of you. He really loved sleeping next to his family and would often invite the kids into the futon even if they didn’t have a nightmare that night. They’d always get really excited and join without hesitation. He also LOVES holding their hands. He loves how tiny and soft they are in his large, calloused ones. He also really loved having them ride on his shoulders

When it came down to being the good cop bad cop, you both had an equal share between it. I can see Giyuu being pretty strict but not to the point where it’s suffocating. He’d still take extra precautions to make sure his kids are safe and don’t get into trouble. He also tries to come to complete understandings with his children when they’re in disagreements with him. He’d sit and talk with them and make sure they don’t feel invalidated or hurt. Sometimes though, he’ll have to put his foot down and tell his children to listen to them and not question his thinking. He’ll often try to come back to them later and explain again.

Kamboko Squad and Pillars’ Reactions to First Born (and general interactions with kids)

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

When the news got out to everyone that you both were expecting children, they were all so very excited.

You were a few weeks pregnant and Tanjirou (and the rest of the squad) came by to visit and he was able to smell it off you. You were a little shocked how he was able to notice until he explained how his mom smelled a certain way when pregnant with his siblings. Then it made a bit more sense. Kind of.

Poor little boy teared up because of how happy he was for the both of you. He was so happy to see Giyuu with the love of his life and now starting a family. Inosuke got all those fluffy things around his head. He was very soft and gentle around you and it was really cute. Sometimes he’d just stare at your bloated stomach and it seemed like he was having a psychic conversation with the baby lolol.

Nezuko was very excited to meet the new baby and couldn’t wait nine months! Zenitsu was really happy for the both of you and it really warmed his heart to hear the baby’s heartbeat. He also got very scared for you because he heard that giving birth if very painful and he’d never want to go through something like that either.

They all saw your kids as their own little siblings, especially Tanjirou. Tanjirou is very good with kids so they ended up liking Tanjirou a lot and would often beg you to let him visit more often so they could play with him. Nezuko also saw them and her own siblings and would always volunteer to knit/fix their haoris if they ever got damaged. She always brought snacks (usually toasted rice crackers) for the kids when she visited. She also helped with cooking dinner when she visited.

Zenitsu loved playing with them. Until one day your son found a worm and showed it to Zenitsu and he freaked out and thought it was a snake for a second. He started to become more wary of your son from then on.

Inosuke shared his boar mask with them and would let them ride on his back as he ran around. He also visited one day with a nicely wrapped box (wrapped by Tanjirou) and gifted it to your kids. You and Giyuu were very confused to see that it only had acorns in there.

You had Shinobu do regular check ups with you to make sure the pregnancy was going well. Despite her constant teasing, she actually told Giyuu how happy she was for him. This really warmed his heart and he couldn’t thank Shinobu enough for all her help. She helped with both the pregnancies/deliveries

Mitsuri was so so SO excited to meet the new babies!! She seemed more excited than you and Giyuu! She loves babies and thinks they’re really cute. And the fact that it’s going to be yours and Giyuu’s baby??? Geez, that just makes it 10x more adorable!! She really really wanted to be the first friend to hold the baby so you granted her wish. She was crying so much, she was so happy.

The baby’s cheeks became very red from how much Mitsuri pinched them. She nicknamed him her “Little Mochi” because of his squishy cheeks. (and she nicknamed your girl her “Little Sakura”)

Obanai kept trying to deny how happy and excited he was. “Hmph! I don’t do babies. Not at all.” But then he saw its cute, little chubby cheeks and couldn’t resist. He then vowed to be the greatest uncle to your baby boy (and girl once she visited the world)

Kyojuro was really excited to meet the baby too. His booming voice scared the baby and made him cry so Kyo learned to be more quiet around him. He was so nervous holding the baby but then got more use to it and didn’t want to hand him back. He wanted to hold on to the little boy forever!!

Muichiro was mostly dazed out but waved his finger in front of him and your little baby boy held onto him. Muichiro got very happy. “Y/N, Y/N! Look! He’s- he’s holding on to me!!” You’ve never seen him smile so wide. He’d often visit and be like, “Can I play with him today? I’ve missed him.” And he’d play with him for hours! He was the same with your little girl as well once she came around.

Sanemi kept trying to act all tough. “No! I don’t care about kids! Least of all babies! I couldn’t care less about Tomioka’s stupid ba-“ his eyes widened when he saw the baby. Then you saw the most softest smile on his face for the first time. He hugged the baby tight to him and didn’t let go or move for a while. He might or might not have teared up. But you swore with him that you saw nothing 👀 He’d make plenty of ohagi for the kids and make some extra for you and Giyuu. Giyuu was very happy to see Sanemi opening up a bit more and glad he became better friends with him as well.

“Tch, don’t get too comfortable, Tomioka. I’m only here for my niece, nephew and Y/N.” He was teasing he loved Giyuu too.

Tengen and his wives were all over the baby! His wives loved the baby so so so much!! They even planned out a baby shower for you when they heard the news so a lot of your baby stuff came from them! Once he finally joined the world, all of them teared up from joy. They all took turns holding the baby, playing with him, bouncing him on their laps. Tengen said that if you or Giyuu ever needed help, him and his wives were right there anytime.

The wives loved playing with your daughter! They’d often do her hair and make it really pretty. They’d also often spoil her with new pretty kimonos and hairpins and always said, “Once she gets older, we’ll always have girls nights out! Do all kind of girl talks and girl things! It’ll be so much fun!!”

Tengen got the baby a whole bunch of shiny jewelry and was like, “Ha! Now your baby boy shall be flamboyant! Even more flamboyant than he was before!!” He also secretly found it extremely adorable how he looked like a little baby Giyuu at first. Then he grew to have more of your facial features and it just made it even cuter for Tengen. He had a little soft spot for your daughter because he thought having a daughter would be very precious so he’d literally do anything for her (and would protect her with his life)

Gyomei was SO happy!!! He of course teared up too and was very very gentle with him. It was kind of cute seeing such a large man hold such a tiny little human. It’s like he could fit them each in one palm. He was one of your go to nanny’s and he’d always wear a pink apron when looking over the kids. He’d spoil them with lots of baked sweets. Everytime he visited, he always had a new beaded necklace to gift them. They ended getting too many and he stopped at one point. But he still gave them one on their birthdays

Shinobu found babies/kids a bit icky since they do have many bodily fluids they can’t control and sometimes don’t wash their hands but she still did normal check ups with them and was very good with them. She’d often visit with some new toys for the kids. She even got your daughter and little butterfly clip. Your son felt left out so she got him one too. For a while both your kids refered to her as the “Butterfly Lollipop Lady” since she gave them lollipops after every doctor visit. She’d just smile chillingly at Giyuu and say, “Tomioka-San, I figured you’d at least teach them my name after all I’ve done for you and your wife.” She was just teasing, she secretly loved her nickname

Shinobu also really loved listening to the baby’s heartbeat through a stethoscope. She also loved putting her hand on your belly and often talked to the baby. She’ll never admit to anyone else but she really enjoyed doing these things with both your pregnancies

#it was really cute writing this lmao thank you for the request!! #also pls forgive if I got anyone out of character lol still getting use to all the pillars #tomioka giyuu x reader #kny #demon slayer #giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kny fics #kny imagines #kny x reader #mitsuri kanroji #iguro obanai #shinobu kochō #gyomei himejima #sanemi shinazugawa #rengoku kyoujurou #muichiro tokito #uzui tengen #kamado tanjirō #kamado nezuko #zenitsu agatsuma #inosuke hashibira

[ilyjohnb]

a/n: I decided to try my hand at a 3+1. I also started posting these on my AO3. FYI, JJ is not abused in this one and it does not follow any of the plot from the show.   **gif credit to @ptersparkers**

requester: anon “hiii!! :) could you do “Can I stay here tonight?” with john b please? :)”

summary: to simply put it, your home life sucks. you had managed to hide it from the pogues, until one night when things got really bad and you needed to stay the night at john b’s.

warnings: abuse, child abuse, swearing, slut-shaming

word count: 1997

~~ONE~~

John B was the first one to realize that something wasn’t right with you and your home life. You were all 10, and it was lunchtime. You were all sitting down at the table. John B was on your left. Pope, Kie, and JJ were on the other side in that order. 

“I hate school. This place sucks ass.” JJ laughed.

Kie smiled. “At least the food is good.”

“Just barely though!” Pope shouted, making the other four laugh.

“I like school.” You mumbled and slightly frowned. You subconsciously rubbed the bruise on your left forearm that your mom gave you the previous night because you forgot to take the trash out. School was the only place where you didn’t have to worry if your mother was going to be drunk or high out of her mind, and it was the only time where you didn’t have to cook for yourself either.

John B heard you though, and he noticed the bruise when your sleeve moved up from you rubbing your arm. He could see it clear as day, on your forearm there was a nasty purple bruise the size of your hand that wrapped around all the way.

You didn’t notice John B staring, but you did notice the bruise peeking out. You quickly slid your sleeve back down and focused on your mashed potatoes.

~~TWO~~

He never confronted you about that time, he didn’t even know how he would start. He eventually began picking up on your signs that you were nervous. He may not be as smart as Pope, but John B was far from dumb. He noticed how you would tense at even the mention of your mom or home. His next major clue was when you all were 15. 

“Hello, Y/n.”

You nervously took a breath, trying to read the situation. “Hi, mom.”

“Guess what you didn’t do? You left here for two days and didn’t even clean the dishes before you left.”

As she stepped closer to you, you could smell the alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get started right away.”

“Punishment first, girl.”

“Mom, please. I’m sorry it was an accident and it won’t happen again.”

She just smiled evilly. “Nothing to do now or take it. You get it now, or it doubles.”

Your hand began to shake. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked over and punched you right in the stomach. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you bit on your lip so you could hold in your whimper. She kicked you this time and shoved you to the floor. She punched you one last time in the eye before grabbing you by your hair, using her knee to hold down your right arm.

“Open your eyes. Now, do you remember what you said earlier?”

You nodded, before opening your mouth to speak, a hoarse whisper came out that you barely even recognized to be your voice. “It won’t happen again.”

After that, you washed the dishes, before going to bed. You waited until she left the next morning to sneak out. You had promised the Pogues a day on the boat. It would be John B’s first time to drive it without his dad, Big John, there too. You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. 

A big bruise was prominent on your stomach, another on your eye, and one more on your forearm. You put on the one two-piece bathing suit that you owned with a huge oversized shirt over that. You tied your bandana on your arm to hide that bruise. For your eye, you’d just have to come up with some lie.

You didn’t live that far from JB, so you took a nice walk. It was nice until you got to John B’s. You walked in the door, expecting to see all of your best friends, but the only person was Big John. He was sitting on the chair, so he saw you walk in.

“Y/n! How are you doing?” You loved John B’s dad. He reminded you a lot of Heyward, Pope’s dad. They both adored you, and you and your friends treated them as if they were all your dads.

“I’m doing pretty good.” You smiled, lying.

“Oh yeah?” You nodded. “Then what happened to your eye.”

“You know me, I got into a fight. Where's everyone at?”

“They’re in the boat, waiting for you. See you all when you get back. And for the love of God, don’t let my son kill you all.”

“Yes sir!” You laughed and went out the back door. You quickly stuck your head back in. “See you Pops!”

You started running down the dock, smiling at your friends. “Is that a wild Y/n/n I see?”

“Yes, it is, JJ. I’m a wild spirit who refuses to be tamed.”

He smiled back at you, holding out his hand to help you in the boat. You saw his eyes flick up to your bruised one. He didn’t ask any questions. You went and sat down as John B steered you all into swimmable waters. He put out the anchor, and then everyone didn’t hesitate to throw their shirts off and jump in. All except you and John B.

“Not getting in, Y/n/n?”

“Not feeling it today. You’re not getting in?”

“I went surfing this morning, so I’m a little sore. What happened to your eye?”

“Fight with a kook.”

You looked down at your bandana and noticed that it was becoming loose. You waited until you were certain he looked away before taking it off and refolding it. You were in your own world, trying to match the folds up exactly. He looked over and saw the bruise. He was almost certain that he knew what was happening to you. He thought it was what happened to you at home, but a fight with a kook was extremely possible too. He looked away quickly and didn’t mention it.

~~THREE~~

By this time, he knew. He may not have gotten confirmation with you, but John Booker Routledge knew that his best friend was getting abused by her mom. He knew he’d have to confront you eventually. He wanted to help you get out of that situation.

This time happened six weeks later. He dropped you off at your door with the promise that he’d walk with you in the morning, to take you for breakfast.

“See you in the morning John B.” You don’t know what came over you, but you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. You turned and walked in your front door before he could see the small blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

“So now you’re a slut? Makes sense I only see you hanging out with those three boys. Didn’t I raise you better, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely confused. Wrong move on your part.

“I think you heard me loud and clear. I saw you kissing that boy, you slut.”

“Mom, no. I swear it was just a friendship thing.” You lied, you did have a crush on John B but your mom didn’t need to know that.

She had enough, shoving you back into the wall. You don’t know what came over you, but you did it. You finally did it. For once in your life, you fought back. You kicked out your leg, knocking her down. She reached over and hit you in the eye, grabbing at your neck. She began to try to choke you, but you brought your leg up to kick her square in the chest. She let you go, the wind knocked out of her.

You took the opportunity and ran. You put your hood up and kept your head down. You didn’t even have to look up, it was like muscle memory at this point. You walked around the house to his window, before knocking.

“Y/n?”

“Hi John B.” You weakly smiled, urgency evident in your voice. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah of course Y/n/n, come on in.”

He helped you in his window before quietly tiptoeing out of his room. You awkwardly sat down on his bed, and he soon came back with a bag of ice.

“For your eye.” you almost forgot. “I know what happened.”

“Yeah, kooks are vicious at night and-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off. “Stop lying. I dropped you off at your house at 11:30, and you don’t typically go out after that. At least not by yourself. I know you. Just let me help you, me and dad can help get you away from your mom.” He pleaded.

“I came here to stay the night, not be met with false accusations.”

“Are they really false though?” He asked.

You sat there, opening your mouth in search of an answer. He had that look on his face, the same one he made when he won. You didn’t want him to win, at least no right now. You stood up and walked towards the window. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You quickly choked out and answer. 

“I’m going to stay at JJ’s. Good night John B. Thank you for the bag of ice.”

He didn’t know why he let you go, but he felt horrible. He was so close to getting the truth out of you, but he was worried if he kept pressing he’d scare you away. He decided he’d wait extra time before asking you again.

~~ + ONE~~

You had finally decided that you had enough. You didn’t want to deal with your mom anymore. 12 years. That’s how long your mother used you as a punching bag. It started after your dad left when you were 4, and you were 16 now. You had waited until your mom drank until she blacked out before you tossed as much stuff that you could into your duffle bag, packing more in your backpack. You tied the laces of your one pair of sneakers together and threw them over your head. You slipped on your flip-flops and left, with your head held high and not looking back.

You texted John B, asking if you could come over. It was 2 am but you were ready to go. As if he could read your mind, John B said you could. You ran faster than you’d ever had. When you got there John B sat with his window open, waiting for you. He took your bag and helped you in the window. You slipped the shoes off your neck and sat down on his window sill.

“You were right.” You told him.

He was holding your face in his, searching for injuries. “About what, bubba?”

“My mom and my home life. How long have you known?”

“I first noticed when we were 10. We were at lunch, you said that you liked school after we were all complaining about it, you had rubbed your arm and your sleeve rolled up and I saw a bruise. Why did you never say anything before? I could’ve helped you get out of there so much sooner.”

You sighed. “I knew it was bad, but I was embarrassed. Do you remember that one day on the boat like a year ago? When I wouldn’t go swimming? It was because my mom beat the absolute shit out of me the night before. And then there was that day I asked to stay the night, I was all sweaty from running and my eye was bruised. It was from my mom, but that was the first day I fought back. I left tonight because of you. Thank you John B.”

You were both staring into each other’s eyes, and he slowly leaned in. You leaned in too, to speed it up. And you kissed. You eventually told the other pogues, your mom got arrested, and you and JB started dating. You finally got out of the home all thanks to John B.

#john b routledge #outer banks #john b imagine #john b x reader #john b x fem!reader #john b one shot #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #my writing