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toxicanonymity · 5 months

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Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @gracieispunk for the B/W pic; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed his name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for your patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear.

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts. The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts.

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him. The look on his face makes your stomach turn.

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.”

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground. His face becomes studious.

“What,” you ask.

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper. Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you?

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?”

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly.

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family.

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name.

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile.

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle.

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back.

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself.

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day.

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going.

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back.

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl.

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks.

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile. “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.”

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings.

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder.

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun.

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.”

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much.

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel.

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel.

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods.

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.”

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?”

“Not heavily,” Carter answers.

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says.

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day. When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside.

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .”

“Jill,” she pipes in.

“Ron,” the man nods at you.

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious.

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention.

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.” Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.”

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all.

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily.

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles.

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs.

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log.

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left.

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up. He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses.

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back.

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.”

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust.

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap.

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!”

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–”

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama.

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants.

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands. He stands up and points his gun at Carter. He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster.

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground.

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs.

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.”

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected. Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind.

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head. Jill screams.

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun. You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat. She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings. You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits.

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her. Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle.

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing. “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it. Then he turns his attention to Jill. She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her. “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow.

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore.

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping.

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel.

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside.

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved.

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears.

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter.

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.”

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.”

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears.

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.”

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest. He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water. “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you.

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water.

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty. You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away. How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name. “You okay?”

You sniffle. He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink.

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away.

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters.

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?”

“Makin’ it. . .”

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other.

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.”

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?”

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?”

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks.

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist.

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil.

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas. Gonna be cold either way.”

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings.

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum.

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin.

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back.

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?”

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her.

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you.

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching. When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.” This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel. You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered. You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?”

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.”

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs.

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.”

Your chest flutters with butterflies.

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head. He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.”

The front door opens and shuts.

“All good?” Joel yells.

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn.

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells.

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed.

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows. He sits on the closed toilet seat again.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you.

He looks at the object in his lap.

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .”

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?”

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh.

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.”

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker. “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go.

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart.

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it.

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That means you're doin’ it.

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs. You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?”

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know. But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely. Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience.

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.”

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed.

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly.

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle. “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause.

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can.

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t.

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask.

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him. “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods.

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him.

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs. Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open. He growls, “God damn.” You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already.

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair. You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you.

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock. His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it. So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest.

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie. He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely.

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs.

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head. You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up.

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.”

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours.

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.”

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you. Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs.

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.”

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours.

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak.

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock. His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones.

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.”

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring.

----

Raider POV: The Kiss

----

So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #raider joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel ☠️#cw dubcon #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #dark fluff

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javiscigarette · 14 days

Text

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings.

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock.

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky.

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands.

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain.

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better.

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass.

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask.

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him.

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him.

So you do.

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision.

Fucking pathetic. Both of you.

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly.

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house.

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours.

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?”

You ask even though you don’t really want to know.

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face.

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know.

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to.

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again.

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that.

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits.

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you.

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms.

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight.

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale.

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked.

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of.

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy.

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat.

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger.

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can.

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth.

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes.

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach.

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand.

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there.

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down.

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue.

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again.

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out.

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in.

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is.

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does.

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic.

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be.

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's.

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

#writing challenge 2.0 #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters

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keerysfreckles · 18 days

Text

angel eyes — OP81 (smau)

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar falls in love on a trip to greece

warnings: like one sexual innuendo if you squint

a/n: this is just fueling my mamma mia obsession

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

yourusername just posted !

liked by bffusername, oscarpiastri and 190,026 others

yourusername i never want to leave 🤍🇬🇷 tagged: oscarpiastri

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user1 just casually meets oscar on vacay????

user2 i smell a great friendship forming

bffusername y/n who's that..

yourusername oscar 😅😅

bffusername and oscar is.......?

yourusername my new best friend

bffusername WHAT?!?!

oscarpiastri sorry not sorry

user3 THE MAMMA MIA VIBES YES!!!

oscarpiastri sadly we have to leave tomorrow

yourusername osc don't remind me 😞

imessage between y/n and bffname !

oscarpiastri just posted !

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 651,028 others

oscarpiastri she made greece even better:) tagged: yourusername

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user1 oh to go to greece with oscar 😖

user2 THEYRE SO CUTE 🥹🥹

landonorris IS THIS THE GIRL YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT?????

user3 PLS NOT LANDO EXPOSING OSCAR 😭😭

oscarpiastri thanks for bringing that up idiot

user4 oscar you need to watch mamma mia IM BEGGING

user5 greece vlog when

yourusername can we adopt that cat pls 🥺

oscarpiastri how would you get it on the plane

yourusername uhhh with my charm?

alex_albon so the trip was only fun when y/n was around?? i see how it is piastri

oscarpiastri 🤷‍♂️

imessage between y/n and oscar !

oscarpiastri just posted !

liked by yourusername, georgerussell and 447,193 others

oscarpiastri movie marathon before the craziness begins tagged: yourusername, landonorris, alex_albon, georgerussell63

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user1 Y/N WITH THE 2019 ROOKIES PLS

user2 i need all the boys opinions on little women omg

oscarpiastri amy was the only right choice for laurie

alex_albon i miss beth :(

georgerussell63 i fell asleep halfway through

landonorris JOLAURIE ALL THE WAY

user3 Y/N GOT YOU TO WATCH MAMMA MIA OMGOMG

yourusername i still can't believe osc was the only one that like mamma mia

landonorris you know i hate musicals

oscarpiastri you won't be saying that when we watch hsm movies next weekend

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yourusername can proudly say i've been converted into a mclaren fan after this weekend 🧡🏎 tagged: oscarpiastri, mclaren

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user1 YES SHES A MCLAREN GIRL 🤞🤞

bffusername can't believe i wasn't invited 🙄

yourusername sorry osc just likes me better

mclaren ready to be back next race weekend?

yourusername only if oscar gets on the podium again

user2 oscar looks so done in the third pic 😭

yourusername to be fair he was only awake for 5 minutes before the challenge video started

user3 oscar in his passenger princess era

user4 SHE LOOKED STUNNING IN THE PADDOCK SHE WAS SERVING

oscarpiastri i didn't give you permission to post the second pic

yourusername oh well!!!

yourusername added to their story !

[another weekend, another time following osc around oscarpiastri]

oscarpiastri just posted !

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oscarpiastri thankful to say i got this podium because my good luck charm was here 🧡

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user1 oscar podium looks so good

user2 THANK GOD I WOKE UP IN TIME

user3 HIS GOOD LUCK CHARM????????????

landonorris aw i'm your good luck charm 🤗

oscarpiastri no you're not lando

user4 good luck charm as in.. y/n??

yourusername THAT'S MY OSC!!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername your podium glow is crazy

oscarpiastri crazy how you said something similar last night

yourusername OSCAR.

user5 welcome back LECPIAHAM

mclaren just posted !

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mclaren our podium winner from the eyes of his good luck charm tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername

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user1 NOT THE MCLAREN ACC HARD LAUNCHING Y/NOSC ?????

user2 so we were right abt who his lucky charm is

user3 Y/NOSCARS REAL???? WE AREN'T DREAMING????????

oscarpiastri petition for my good luck charm to come to every race

mclaren we're working on it 🫡

user4 i would pay good money to see more pics like these

user5 pookie is pookie-ing

yourusername i love your podium winner 😁

mclaren our podium winner loves you

oscarpiastri it's true 😁

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x fem reader #oscar piastri x female!reader #smau #f1 #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri f1

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myrthing · 4 months

Text

We've had one goat, yes, but what about second goat?

Do you know there is always a second goat, the little brother, the buckling? He's built by the natural sciences club at municipal gymnasie school Vasaskolan (the building behind the trees in the first three pictures). They never build it to the same plans, so it always looks different every year. This was one of the better years, in my humble goat connoisseur opinion. It was certainly hella big. It looked especially good from behind, but the telltale boxiness was evident the moment I got around to see the head.

Also, if you like, squint really really really hard, you can maybe see the GOAT in the background in the last pic.

#goat town hell #gävlebocken #gävle goat #lillbocken #I was not in NF #I did go to Vasa #but family tradition dictated I join the all-female culture club

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landosjpg · 3 months

Text

evening breath | ln

the one where you and your neighbor get a little too close.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: the tiniest bit of fluff, pining, lando gets rejected, reader being dumb (it’s okay it's a happy ending), suggestive if you squint at the end

pls let me know if i'm missing something

notes: part two of boy next door. despite of the pic reader is gender-neutral!!!! also not proofread

it was summer break for lando, and luckily you happened to have a few weeks off work too. he had decided to spend his free time in monaco this year around, and you were happy you'd get to spend it with him.

soon, your movie nights turned into whole days in each other's apartments, giggles filling any room the two of you were in. he had the ability to make you cry of laughter in the matter of a few seconds, and maybe that was the reason you felt your heart swell with joy every time you looked at him.

it wasn't in your plans, falling for him. but you couldn't help but notice every little detail about him. from the way his body relaxed whenever your finger traced random shapes in his arm as you two watched a movie, to how he looked at you every time he made a joke to make sure you found it funny.

maybe it was the moment lando had faked a yawn to wrap his arm around you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the stupid cliché. or maybe it was when, only seconds later, you leaned into him and rested your head in his chest.

one of those moments had brought you here. those innocent, sweet gestures turning into soft touches, that soon ended up in long cuddling sessions in your couch.

the movie in the background long forgotten every time while, with his arms wrapped around you, you both talked in soft whispers, scared of the intimacy between you two being broken if you even dared to raise your voice in the slightest.

you woke up that morning feeling a little disoriented, the sunlight hitting your face as you noticed that you were still on your couch. lando's arms holding you close and your legs tangled with his under the soft blanket. you didn't remember falling asleep, but you were sure you weren't that close to him while watching your second movie of the night.

"you're awake," he mumbled when you squirmed under his grip, his voice raspy and his eyes closed, telling you that he had woken up not long ago.

the closeness between you two made your breath mix with his, and you pulled slightly away, taken aback by the proximity.

"did i wake you up?" you asked him. he only shook his head, tightening his grasp around you and pulling you close again.

he didn't say anything else, instead he leaned into you and hid his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose softly against your skin. you sighed softly, closing your eyes again and letting yourself relax under his touch.

however, your body froze the second his lips placed a kiss on the bare skin of your collarbone. he was soft and tender, but somehow it managed to send a shiver down your spine.

you didn't react when he giggled at your reaction, or when he pulled back to look at you again.

but you did react when you felt his eyes on your lips, his face leaning closer to the point the tip of your nose was brushing against his. you swore you felt your heart on your throat, and as much as you wanted him yo kiss you, your body betrayed you.

without even thinking about it, your fingers moved to his lips, pressing softly against them and stopping him from breaking the distance between the two of you.

"morning breath," was all you could manage to say, internally slapping yourself for how stupid that sounded. "i'm sorry, i..." you immediatelly tried to save the situation as you realized that the little smile on his lips had disappeared and he was starting to sit down on the couch.

"it's alright, y/n," he cut you off, standing up and brushing it off the best he could, "i should get going anyway."

you didn't dare to say anything else, watching as he put his shoes back on while your body was curled under the blanket. as he always did, he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving. but this time, the cold spot next to you hit you harder.

you weren't sure what had possessed you into stopping him like that. but you regretted your actions when, after a few hours since he had left, his name still hadn't popped out on your phone.

you felt stupid for letting him go like that without explaining yourself. you did want him to kiss you, but you were scared. terrified, if you will.

lando had been part of your life for a little less than two months, and the feelings you had grown for him were suffocating already. all you wanted was to spend time with him, make him laugh and hear him rambling about whatever.

but you were scared of ruining what you had built together those past weeks by crossing the thin line that could turn your friendship into a messy situationship.

you knew you were self-sabotaging as you always did, but the thought of letting yourself be loved frightened you.

and if there was something that scared you even more than being loved in that moment, it was losing lando. and your fears came true when, after that day, he still hadn't reached out to you.

one day turned into two, and two days turned into a week. you were too embarrassed to be the one to text first, so you just grieved your loss and regretted having rejected him for weeks.

you understood the reason why he just disappeared, though, but you wished he would've given you an opportunity to explain yourself after all.

it wasn't until a few weeks later that you saw him again. you hadn't seen him, or talked to him, since that very morning on your couch, so you weren't expecting to bump into him in the hall of your building.

you were tired after spending the whole day in the office, and you were still checking something in your phone as you walked quickly through the hallway. when his body crashed into yours, you didn't look up, too distracted by the document you were reading.

instinctively, he held you to make sure you wouldn't fall. you were ready to keep making your way into the elevator after murmuring a "sorry" under your breath when his voice interrupted you.

"y/n," his voice made you come back to earth, and you quickly looked up to meet his eyes.

"lando," you answered, your voice a whisper again. "what are you doing here?" you asked, not really knowing what else to say. his chuckle made you realize how stupid your question really was.

"i still live here," he answered, starting to guide you two to the elevator, as you two were going the same way.

"yeah, but..." you started, letting him hold his hand on the small of your back, the simple touch filling your stomach with butterflies again. "listen, what happened that morning... i didn't mean to..."

"hey," he interrupted you, his eyes locked on your face. and if it weren't for his next words, you'd think he still liked you. "no hard feelings."

you took a deep breath and looked at his face, his eyes piercing through yours as you gathered the courage to tell him what you should've said that morning instead of letting him leave.

"i really didn't mean to do that," your voice was a little shaky and regret was clear in your eyes. "i wanted you to kiss me, i swear, i just got scared. i didn't want to ruin what we had because of a kiss that could mean nothing to you, and i know what i did was stupid cause i ruined everything anyway. it was the worst excuse ever, and if i could go back in time..." you trailed off as you noticed that the elevator had stopped and it was only a matter of seconds til you had to go different ways again.

he looked at you, rising his eyebrows and encouraging you to finish your sentence with a nod of his head.

"i wouldn't stop you," you said in what was almost a whisper once again, your legs weak as your confession made you feel vulnerable in front of him.

"well," he said, his eyes still locked with yours. "do you have anything against evening breath?"

the absurdity of the question made you chuckle and you felt a sense of relief washing all over you, knowing that he wasn't mad at you for rejecting him weeks ago. you softly shook your head, and before you could give him a proper answer, his lips were on yours.

you kissed him back tenderly, your arms around his neck while his wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him and deepening the kiss. with your lips still locked in each other's, he ushered you towards his front door.

"want to come in?" he uttered in between kisses as he looked for his keys in his jeans' pockets. you nodded with a giggle.

"gotta make up for lost time," you whispered, following him inside and kissing him all the way to his room.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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sageispunk · 7 months

Text

Melting (18+)

pic from pinterest!

Kinktober prompt: temperature play (day 8)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel wants to try something new.

"You watched him slowly, seductively drag his tongue up your stomach, straight up the center of your soft flesh, in between your breasts, up past your collarbone, and to your neck, all the way to your favorite spot– right behind your ear. Butterflies fluttering within you at the intimacy of it all, your eyes flew shut and a deep sigh escaped your mouth."

wordcount: 2.3k+

warnings: no Y/N, no outbreak/no Sarah, pre-established relationship, Joel in his late 30s and older than reader, reader is shorter than Joel (he's like 6'2" in my head tbh), alcohol, lots of making out, teasing, kinda dom Joel, nipple play!!!!, temp play w an ice cube, praise kink, use of the word "daddy", oral sex (f receiving), sucking fingers, fingering

A/N: yes this is late, i'm sorry!!! i rlly didn't wanna skip it bc i love writing for joel so here u go <333 || follow @sageispunklibrary for notifs 🩷

You watched as Joel poured you a drink in the kitchen. An old-fashioned, on the rocks. Himself a whiskey, neat. He was so smooth with it, pouring and stirring until he was satisfied, handing you the glass with a sly grin on his face. Accepting the drink, you raise it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and the two of you cheers.

The drink was smooth sliding down your throat, warmth beginning to radiate throughout your chest. “Mmm, not bad, Miller.” You set the tumbler down, watching as Joel took a second big gulp of his own drink. The way the muscles along his neck moved as he swallowed had you swooning.

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded, leaning your back against the island counter. “Yeah, wouldn't mind a drink from you every now n’then.” Now, it was your turn to smirk, your lips curving up as your eyes became siren-like, drawing Joel in closer. He took a couple steps toward you, his tall, broad form hovering over yours. A big, callused hand came up to your left cheek and you subconsciously leaned in toward his touch, eyes momentarily fluttering shut.

Joel watched as you relaxed in his hand, admiring the way you could just let go with him. His thumb brushed back and forth across your cheekbone and his heart warmed at the soft moan you let out.

You opened your eyes and felt butterflies at the way he was looking at you, his deep brown eyes full of affection and tenderness. “Joel…” A whisper of his name left your lips and only a second later, his mouth was on yours. You whimpered into the kiss, seeing stars behind your eyelids. His hand kept its place on the side of your face and the other found its way to your waist.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, kissing hungrily with your tongues fighting for dominance. You give in, like you always do, your body going slightly limp in his hold. Joel licks into your mouth one final time before bringing his attention to your bottom lip, sucking it at first and then biting gently. When he pulled away from your face, the two of you were panting, breathless and immensely riled up. Joel looked down at your face, your eyes low with desire and bottom lip a bit swollen–god, he loved making you like this.

He quickly picked you up, massive hands on either side of your waist, and sat you atop the counter. You spread your legs slightly, and he made his way in between, the both of you now at eye level. Joel was so quiet and intense leading up to sex, and it always made you so skittish, your eyes landing on anything but his own.

You needed him though, and you wanted him to know you needed him so your hands made their way up to his flannel, fidgeting with the buttons as he watched. Finally he spoke up.

“Y’need something, darlin’?”

You looked at him now, a surge of brattiness quickly bubbling up within you. He noticed, the way your eyes began to squint and the way your mouth fell slightly open to reply, “Jus’ messing with you, baby, c’mere.” You rolled your eyes and let him pull you into another kiss, this time with his hands undressing you. First, the thin straps of your dress came off down your shoulders, and then the top of it was sliding down to your midsection. Your back arched intuitively, craving the feeling of Joel’s skin on yours.

You immersed yourself in his kiss, hearing only the unclasping of your bra and the almost-silent thud of it hitting the floor, whilst your hands scrambled for something to grasp. Between his tousled hair and his damned annoying buttoned shirt and the top of his slim jeans, you couldn’t focus on anything.

Until his hands were on your breasts. It was already chilly in the house, so your nipples were solid and the way his thumbs were teasing the sensitive peaks wasn’t helping. You pulled away this time, your mouth wide open as you watched him play with you, the alcohol coursing through your system amplifying every touch on your body. “Joel, I-,” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he quickly dipped down to put his mouth over your right nipple, fingers twisting the other. “Oh, fuck…”

You placed your hand on the back of his head, watching in adoration as he sucked and licked on your breasts. He switched to the other and repeated his movements, all the while you could literally feel your panties getting soaked between your thighs. A low whine escaped your throat as Joel dragged his teeth on your nipple, similar to the way he did your bottom lip, and you watched him smirk, proud of the effects he had on your body.

You placed your hands on either side of his face, pulling him back up to your face to land a few soft kisses on his lips, before he stopped you with a hand gripping your chin. “I wanna try somethin’, nothing crazy, just a thing I heard about earlier, figured y’might like it.”

Squinting your eyes for a second, wondering what it was he wanted to do with you, you decided to just relax and let him experiment. “Okay,”

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You nodded and he gave you a look. Chuckling, you spoke–”I’ll tell you, Joel, I promise.” He nodded, accepting your words and stepping back. You watched him closely as he walked towards the fridge, smiling to yourself as you figured he probably wanted to try some sort of food play, chocolate syrup or whipped cream or something.

You took his short absence as an opportunity to shrug your dress off of your body, leaving you in only your plain black underwear, which you should’ve stripped off as well due to them being completely drenched. Hopping back onto the counter, you noticed Joel coming back over now, but there was nothing in his hands.

He had a look on his face, a cocky, knowing look, and you knew he had something up his sleeve. “What–” He quietly lowered himself back down to your breasts, looking up at you for a moment.

And then his mouth was on you again. It was different though.

“Aah! Joel– what…” You jumped at the sudden coldness against your nipple. He swirled his tongue around the mound, eyes closed in bliss but you could still see a smirk written across his face.

The fucker had a goddamn ice cube in his mouth.

He moved to your other nipple, causing goosebumps to rise across your body, the braille around the edges of your areolas rising up in response to the frigid temperature. All you could do was watch and gasp at each new part of skin exposed to the ice, in shock that you were actually enjoying this.

You’d heard of people using ice in the bedroom, but had assumed you wouldn't even want to, thinking it would simply be just too fucking cold to enjoy. Oh, how wrong you were.

You could tell the ice was melting away as he pulled off of your tit, but he wasn’t finished. Dipping even lower, Joel’s tongue found its way to your belly button, licking it softly, the cold sensation on your tummy making you jump and gasp again.

He made eye contact with you as he circled the button one final time, the last of the ice on the tip of his tongue. You watched him slowly, seductively drag his tongue up your stomach, straight up the center of your soft flesh, in between your breasts, up past your collarbone, and to your neck, all the way to your favorite spot– right behind your ear. Butterflies fluttering within you at the intimacy of it all, your eyes flew shut and a deep sigh escaped your mouth.

“Joel, that was …”

“Y’liked it?” He looked eager, proud of the way your body responded to him. You nodded, “Mhmm,” your eyes soft and gentle and needing. “I’m really–” You began to whine but he cut you off, lips centimeters away from your own.

“I know, baby.” He pulled your hips closer to him with one hand, the other gently leaning you back. You propped your elbow ups behind you so that you could watch as he took care of you.

He placed two fingers on your clothed heat, immediately smiling at how wet the fabric was. Your hips jumped and chased his touch, needing more than just some petting. “You’re already so soaked and needy for me, huh?”

With your bottom lip in between your teeth, you nodded, the promise of what was to come nearly overwhelming you with want.

“Tell me.” The view of him looking up at you was something so beautiful, his eyes were so soft yet demanding. Both of you knew he was the one in control (for the most part) and yet it still turned you on beyond measure how sweet he looked bent down below you, for you.

“I need you, Joel.”

He lifted your hips up just an inch, pulling your panties down your legs and onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. Joel spread your legs wider, eyes locked in on your pussy, beautiful and sopping wet all for him. You could see the hunger in his face, watching as you pulsed and clenched and dripped around nothing. “So fuckin’ pretty…tell me again.”

This time he looked at you as you spoke. “I need you, Joel, please.. I want you so bad.”

He dove in, using two fingers to spread your swollen lips as he licked a stripe up your cunt. “Ooooh, fuck, daddyyyy..” You moaned, your brain automatically overrun by the waves of pleasure rushing through your core.

Joel’s tongue swirled around your sensitive clit a few times before his lips enclosed on it, sucking in a gentle rhythm. You were at a loss for words, eyes rolling back in your head as your hands immediately went to his hair.

He continued his sucking and you slid your fingers through his scalp, causing his eyes to close in comfort. He began to lick again, catching all of the juices that were leaking out of you before returning to your clit. One of his hands came up to you, middle and ring fingers pointed out while the others were bent. You got the hint and leaned forward, taking his two fingers deep into your mouth, moaning and sucking on them slowly, making sure to get them nice and wet for him.

You released his fingers with a pop! and he brought them back down to your pussy. His ministrations on your clit didn't stop or slow down as he slid his fingers into your warmth. You felt so full as he knuckles reached the base of your cunt, Joel’s thick fingers unmoving in your tight muscles.

“Nnnngh,” You whined, as he kept his fingers still inside you, needing some movement, some friction. You bucked your hips up and Joel immediately took his other hand to your hip, holding you down. “Joellll, You dragged out the sound of his name, “...I need you, please, please move, I need it,”

You knew your words were affecting him, he always wants you to beg for it. It’s his way of asking for reassurance, he needs to know that you want him, that you need him, as much as he needs you. “Daddy, please…” You cried out, voice hushed and yearning.

It's always that name that gets him. He never understood it, he still doesn't, but when you call him that, a carnal, animalistic drive to take care of you, to protect you, to pleasure you and to make you his, takes over his mind.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, seconds before pushing them back in, hearing the gasps and mewls coming out of your mouth. He was hard as a rock, dick crying and throbbing in his jeans. He could probably cum now, right in his pants, just from the succulent taste of you, paired with the downright desperate sounds you were making for him. Because of him.

The movement of his fingers inside you quickened, fingertips tilting to reach that one spot that made you fall apart each and every time. “Fuck! Oh my god, Joel, oh my fucking….” You trailed off, feeling yourself nearing that beautiful peak, your entire body trembling and tightening up.

Joel’s thumb trailed loving circles on your hips while his tongue did the same on your clit. “I’m so fuckin’-- I’m close Joel, fuuuckkk..”

As soon as you were right on the edge of your orgasm, Joel wrapped his lips around your sweet, swollen button, sucking and sucking and sucking till you were falling apart all over his face and his fingers. “Yeaaah baby…there ya go…come on, cum for me darlin’....” The noises he pulled out of you were lewd and beautiful, and a look of pure ecstasy was written all over your face.

Your pussy pulsated on his fingers as you came and his movements began to slow down, not wanting to overstimulate you. Your juices coated his knuckles and soaked his facial hair, and all Joel could do was relish in it.

He sucked on your clit two final times before he pulled off, your hands guiding him off your quivering body. He stood up and you watched as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking them in knuckles-deep, licking all of your release off with a soft groan. “You taste so fucking good, angel,”

You pulled him in again, your body weak and caving into his as your tongues danced once again. This time you could taste yourself in his mouth and you couldn't have felt more euphoric.

“I love you, Joel.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

i hope u enjoyed reading this!! please like, reblog and comment if u do, it's greatly appreciated! feel free to send requests/suggestions if u have some 🩷

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

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risuola · 7 months

Text

SAY MY NAME — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who you matched with on the dating app

Internet is such a weird place. Never in your life you thought that you'd go to bed with a complete stranger that you met through the internet, but when you found yourself standing in front of the room in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo, you somehow thought now more about the man himself than the very obvious fact that you should not go but run home. But then he opened the door.

cw: smut (duh), anonymous, overstimulation, one night stand, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, cum play if you squint, strangers to lovers? (I couldn’t help myself), reader discretion is advised — 7,8k words

masterlist

Avoiding strangers was like a second nature to you – you were taught from the youngest age that danger awaits on each and every corner of the world, especially when the night falls, and you lived your life to dodge it. Years and years you isolated yourself from risks, you stayed at home when your friends partied, you drank modestly, while they were blacking out. You were responsible enough to never get yourself into any serious trouble. But those things are what makes you gravely boring, and your closest friend made sure you taste some fun.

That’s how you ended up in front of a room 777 in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo. Everything around you dripped with luxury – the dark, marbled floors glossed to the perfection despite many shoes that walked through them hundreds of times every day; the deep green walls garnished beautifully with decorative, golden panels at the very top of them; the intricate crystal chandeliers twinkling with the most expensive rainbows in the soft light, lighting your way from the elevator through the long hall. Your high heels tapped softly against the gleaming tiles with every step you took, echoing in the silence of the corridors. And then, there’s the door – large and crafted from dark, nearly black oak wood with dainty, golden numbers situated on the top half of them.

While you studied the twirly, and yet simple font of the digits, you couldn’t help but wonder if the echo of your quickened heartbeat also bounced along the halls. You for sure heard it a little too clearly in your ears, someone could probably scream next to you and the sound of blood being pumped inside your veins would make you deaf to that. Was it stress or excitement, you couldn’t tell. You were just so out of place here – not only in the ridiculously overpriced interiors but also in the situation itself.

"Go and have as much fun as you can", your friend told you just few hours ago when you were nervously getting ready for a date that you set yourself up with a complete stranger from the internet. You met him through the dating app that your bestie forcefully installed on your phone, creating an account for you and swiping right on everyone that she deemed even remotely attractive. It wasn’t your thing, you never tried online matching, but to avoid hours of lecture about how your boringness will one day kill you, you went with it. Exchanging few anonymous messages with strangers couldn’t hurt, right? You might even meet someone valuable there – that’s what you thought, but quickly it turned out that men in the internet tend to send dick pics quicker then they say hello, and that wasn’t exactly what you wanted to see. But then, there he was. Another man that swiped right on you and you really have no idea how it came to the fact that now you were in the hotel, just one piece of wood away from him. He didn’t give you his name, he never send you any picture and was way too honest about what he expects from you, but maybe that was what intrigued you. No unnecessary saccharine, no charming words – just straight up offer and maybe it’s due the three shots of vodka that your friend poured into you, but you typed “I’m in, where?” quicker than you could sober up. When you did, it was too late for backing out.

Many things were running through your mind as you mindlessly looked at the seemingly lucky trio of sevens at the entrance to your one-night fling. There was the obvious fear that you were indoctrinated with from childhood that meeting strangers inevitably leads to abuse, trafficking and death and to say that the vision of yourself in a body bag didn’t cross your mind would be an awful lie, but you did everything to distract yourself from it – and by everything, you mean babbling with your friend. She was more excited than you for that date but probably expected you to chicken out anyway. She even told you that she’ll stay on standby to pick you up from the hotel and cheer you up if things go wrong – she was also ready to storm in and kill the dude.

Next thing that worried you was the lack of pictures – he was apparently a 28-year-old man, handsome – if you were to believe him, and yet, you had no proof of that. He might as well be an old, greasy perv hunting on young ladies. You should turn around and make your way to the nearest exit, that’s what you should do. But you didn’t. Instead, you smoothed out light-blue dress that you decided to wear, you brushed your hair back with your fingers and took a deep breath, raising a hand in which you clutched the key card to unlock the doors.

You didn’t reach the electronic lock, because dark oak in front of you swung open and what met your eyes exceeded all of your expectations. He was tall, much taller than you, his head almost as high as the upper doorframe. White hair were framing his incredibly handsome features. It honestly shocked you how good looking he was – the eyes, so mystically blue, as if the entire ocean flowed and twinkled inside his irises, surrounded by long, white eyelashes. Straight nose, lips that looked softer than you’d consider legal amount and the face that although manly, held some femininity to it, making him look just unreal. His body, slim and visibly fit, dressed half-casually in simple dark pants and the light-blue button-up shirt tucked into them. His sleeves were rolled up enough to expose his forearms and two buttons from the top were left open. Quickly, you understood why he spared any pictures in his profile. He had to. You weren’t sure if the app could withstand the demand he’d have if he published his visuals.

“Hey there, stranger.” The man smiled, his eyes scanning your silhouette from your head to your toes and right back up and by the content painted on his lips, you assumed he wasn’t disappointed with the view. You for sure were not disappointed with him. “Thought you’ll never enter so I figured I might as well let you in myself.”

“S-sorry,” you muttered and cleared your throat from the pathetic stutter that seemed to take the best of you. Then, you tried again. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no worries, sweet thing. Come inside.” With that, he moved slightly to the side, and you made a step forward, crossing the threshold and entering the beautiful suite that he chose himself. You were told at the reception that it’s one of the most luxurious apartments in the building because of the stunning view that spreads itself through the big, full-wall-sized windows. It was, indeed, breathtaking, and for just a moment it distracted you from your date. You put your little bag down and allowed him to take off your jacket before you approached the panorama behind the clear glass. Night sky illuminated magically, influenced by the cacophony of colors that radiated from the never-sleeping city below it. Tokyo during late hours was one of the most mind-blowing images an eye can experience – it’s bright and vibrant, filled with neon lights and colorful banners that in the darkness grow even more vibrant.

Satoru watched the way your hips swayed left and right while you made your way slowly towards the windows. He couldn’t blame you; the view was impressive and put it on the many times he’s seen it, but he found you much more interesting. You were more than he expected, taught by the way women edit their pictures to look better than they usually are, but you – you were more gorgeous than on the picture that your profile was equipped with. In all honesty, if it was only for the photo, he probably wouldn’t even swipe for you – it wasn’t the sharpest, the light was shit, your face wasn’t all that visible and it looked like it was taken in a rush, maybe even by surprise (which it was), but there was something so raw about it that interested him. But live? Fuck, he was hard from the moment he saw you and it never happened to him before. Usually, he’s the one that needs some work to get properly aroused during those flings – often he’s straight up unable to find the person attractive enough to pursue with the night and he excuses himself with some shitty bluff about his sick grandmother. Now, as he had a chance to inhale the sweet, floral scent of your perfume, that his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your shoulders when he took your jacket off, that his eyes were able to take all of you in, he wanted nothing more than to be inside of you already. And probably, he would if not for the visible nervousness, so he took this little bit of time you needed to admire the panorama of Tokyo to admire the picture of you.

He had no idea why you chose to wear a dress that matched his eyes so perfectly without ever seeing them, but just as his eyes laid on your frame with ease, so was the garment. It was short, but somehow still looked innocent on you. The fabric hugged your waist tightly, flaring up slightly below it, crating a skirt that flowed with the movements of your steps, bouncing slightly off your hips, hypnotizing him with each sway. The top half fitted your chest perfectly, the ruched details adding even more volume to your breast and the low, square-ish neckline accentuating your collarbones and shoulders. Two, slightly puffy, short sleeves added you some innocence that Satoru couldn’t wait to stain, but for now, he needed to have a taste of you.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” The soft, honeyed tone reached your ears once again and you could tell there was the slightest line of amusement underneath the pleasurable melody of his words. His voice was just as attractive as the rest of him, you just met him and already knew that you could listen to it every day if given a chance. A soft purr formulated in your throat at the feeling of his lips pressed to the side of your neck, from where he gently pushed your hair away. The gesture so feather-like and yet it sent shivers down your spine, making you suddenly hyperaware of his entire being next to you.

“It is.” You gave it a nod, feeling another sparkle of excitement rushing through your nervous system, when his hand landed on the small of your back and smoothed to the side to caress your hip. Another kiss, this time a little wetter, a little more intense was planted on your neck and you exhaled.

“Call me unoriginal, but I truly think you’re prettier,” he muttered against your skin, inhaling the sweet note of your perfume, his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your side as he pulled you a little bit closer.

“I’m not going to lie, you also top that view by a mile.” It left your lips in a tone that mixed with your breath. Encouraged by his movements, you shifted your stance to face him completely, leaning your head back enough to give him the access to your throat, where few more wet marks appeared in no time. Then he straightened up, looking at your face once again and underneath his now darkened gaze, you felt the knot already tying itself up at the bottom of your stomach. There was something unreal with the way he was staring at you – an admiration stirring with the blue of his irises that surprised you. Why would a man like this look at you as if he wanted to devour you on the spot?

“Is that so?” He grinned, a smug expression twisting his features into a sexy smirk.

“I’m almost unsure if I can even touch you.” Your confession made him chuckle. His large palms left your waist only to grab your, much smaller hands, placing them onto his own body and as he moved them down slowly, you could tell he was just as toned as he looked like – or maybe more. Rock hard muscles bulged underneath your fingertips, fueling the want you already were filled up with.

“I assure you, I want nothing more than your touch,” he purred once more, lowering his head and instinctively, you leaned in to meet his lips halfway, but he stopped right before they touched. “If there’s any hesitation, you can still leave, I won’t stop you. But when we start, you’re stuck with me until morning.”

You took a moment to look into his eyes. You weren’t sure if the nervousness that you still felt was tied to the nature of that meeting – you were here to have sex with him, it wasn’t a proper date with talking, coffee or a dinner. It was said from the beginning, he was very clear about it. Although the few texts that you exchanged felt nice, all he wanted from you was a fling and you agreed to that, but fact was, you’ve never done this before. Even with your previous boyfriends, it always took you some time to get intimate and here, you consented to fuck a man you knew nothing about. Part of you wondered if you’ll even be able to meet his expectations – a man like him could have any woman he liked and yet he chose you from the ocean of girls probably way more willing than you. The other part though, was already burning from excitement. The foreign adventure awoke something primal in you and if not for the last drops of composure, it’s likely that you’d already be bouncing on him.

“I don’t want to leave,” you nearly whispered, cupping the side of his gorgeous face and he pressed his lips softly to the heel of your palm. Your answer seemed to satisfy him, because after that, he closed the distance between your mouths, clashing them in a hungry kiss.

First few seconds were experimental. Satoru needed to see if you are firm in your decision, because as much as he wanted to fuck you unconscious, he also had no wish to force you to do so and for him, it was more than clear that it is your first time with a stranger in a hotel room. But when your hands reached up, brushing through his hair and pulling him even closer, he let go of all brakes.

The kiss quickly turned into a mess, teeth clashing and tongues dancing a fiery tango, while he already began messing with your dress. It was pretty, you looked stunning in it, but it would look even better off of you. Luckily for him, the fabric was easy to peel off and the reveal of a white, lacey lingerie set almost made him moan into your mouth. He forced himself away just to take a good look on you, and while he did that, you pushed him back. Gojo’s shirt was already mostly unbuttoned so he went ahead and took it off completely, throwing the light fabric away from the bed. Allowing himself to fall onto the bouncy mattress, followed your silhouette attentively. His own pants became way to tight, uncomfortably straining his brick hard cock in the cage of black cotton but he couldn’t focus on it too much, when you looked like this right in front of him.

Having just one night with him, you wanted to waste no time. You were sure that it’s the first time you’re doing this whole fling with a stranger, and the last time at the same time – there was, after all, slim chance you’d ever match with a man like him again, and the expectations bar is set up very, very high and you didn’t even know his name. Yours was written in your bio but his was hidden and during your brief texting, he told you that he’s not going to tell you any detail about himself.

For Satoru, it was safer – his position in the world of sorcerers was way to significant to risk anyone’s safety just so they can feel “connection” for few hours while they’re fucking. Knowing his personal information, it wasn’t all that hard to find him and last thing he wanted was some random girl searching for him later, possibly putting herself into danger or worse. But you… For some reason, despite every rule he had set with himself, he wished you’d know his name. He wished to hear you moan it later, to breathe it out, to scream it even. It’d sound like music, he was sure of it.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked, chuckling lightly when his eyes scanned your figure up and down.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, reaching to grab you and in just a second, you were on his lap, your back pressed to his chest and your ass sat down straight onto his crotch. Little gasp escaped your mouth at the feeling of his hard size and he exhaled as well, when you swayed your hips against him. His hands began roaming all over your body, tracing patterns all over your skin and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts in his large palms. He smeared wet kisses along your neck and shoulders, your jaw and back; the softest whines and whimpers escaping his mouth as you grinded gently against his clothed cock. You could tell he’s big, it only fitted for his dick to be as impressive as the rest of him and you could feel your mouth watering just at the thought of him. Some part of your brain still couldn’t believe that you had this man only to yourself for that night. It really was a win, you’d have to buy your bestie a coffee next time you see her.

The way you moved your hips against his pants made Satoru lose his mind. It’s been years since he felt like he could finish in his boxers without even being properly touched, like a horny teenager watching some stupid sex scene in the movie and way you were awakening his entire body made him euphoric.

“Fuck, so big,” you muttered, reaching back to palm him through his trousers.

“Wanna taste it?” He offered and it surprised him how fast you were on your knees, not caring at all about the hard wooden floors that will surely bruise you harshly. While your dainty fingers worked the belt, button and the zipper of his pants, you took that time to press some wet kisses onto his stomach, that you were convinced, the gods carved themselves from the finest marble.

His cock sprung free the moment you pulled down the fabrics of his trousers and underwear, the tip of it hit the hard muscle of his abs and the sheer size of him terrified you for a moment. He not only had the impressive length, but he also was girthy. The pink skin stretching around the veiny base, leading to the slightly darker tip, already leaking and angry from the anticipation. After seeing so many dick pics during your little trial of dating apps you were certain that nothing will really impress you and yet, he did just that. He was mouthwatering and so pretty. He wasn’t going to fit you, he was at least twice as much as any of your previous boyfriends – there was no way he’ll be able to push into you, but you were more than willing to let him try, and if he tears you apart while doing so, then you’ll probably still thank him. But that’s an issue for later. Now, you were growing hungry to taste him.

Satoru smirked smugly seeing the glisten of fear in your eyes. Not that he wanted you to be scared, but he couldn’t deny that it tickled his ego. Just to reassure you, he gave your head a stroke, smoothing over your hair as your cold hand wrapped around his girth, giving it an experimental pump just to feel him. Then you leaned in, parting your mouth and stroking the underside of his length with your tongue, from the base up to the tip where you swirled the tip of your muscle around just to then plant a sucking kiss there. He panted in delight, sharp tendrils of pleasure rushing through his body. There was something that indicated the lack of experience in the way you took him into your mouth and at the same time, he felt like it’s a natural talent of yours. You worked your way all over him as if you were devouring the most delicious, melting ice cream, licking the sides and sucking the tip. Where your lips couldn’t reach, you used your hand, pumping the remaining inches and playfully massaging his balls, absorbing the rewarding groans and whimpers from above you.

“Fuck, yes, so fucking amazing,” he was praising you, hand resting on the back of your head but putting no pressure to what you were doing. He didn’t need to, you were just perfect, he loved every single move of your tongue against his cock, every graze of your teeth, every suck and kitten lick. His head fell back, when the tip of him hit the back of your throat, his dick twitched and flexed in your grip and you took it as invitation to pick up the intensity. You pumped him harder, you took him deeper, you wanted more of his whines. “Oh my fucking god,” were his final words before he was cumming, white ribbons of hot seed shooting into your mouth as you stroked him through it, prolonging his release as much as you were able to. Salty taste of him spread all over your throat, some of it spilling through the corner of your mouth and running down your chin as you took him out of your lips with a loud pop. Once you swallowed, you made sure to lick him clean, your hunger for him still unsatiated.

Giving him a moment to catch his breath, you got rid of his trousers completely. The taste of him still prominent over your tongue when he looked down on you, grinning widely with a satisfied look on his face. He gathered the lone drop of his cum from the side of your chin and you were more than happy to take his thumb into your mouth, sucking onto it softly and cleaning it.

“God, you’re so nasty. I love it,” he purred, leaning down and grabbing you by the hips. With ease he raised you from the floor and put on the bed, immediately climbing on top of you. He didn’t need much to grow hard once again, just the sight of your beautiful body was enough for him to go all night. “It’s gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll look better somewhere else.” Mumbling, he was squeezing his hands underneath your back and you arched it for him, giving him access to the clasp of your bra. He took it off quickly, immediately forgetting about his plan to take the panties off as well, when your breasts bounced free. Your fingernails brushed through his hair, scratching at his scalp when he began kissing and licking and sucking at the plump flesh of your chest, toying with your nipples with his mouth and fingers.

His hand shifted lower, smoothing over your stomach and down, right where you wanted him the most. His long fingers brushed over your folds, still covered by the thin layer of white lace, now nearly translucent from how soaked it was already. You could feel his lips curving up when he realized how aroused you were, how you wanted him as much as he wanted you and having no patience and reason to touch you through your panties, he pulled them off with one swift movement.

Satoru found your lips again, kissing you with even more hunger than before. Allowing his digits run up and down your slit he slid with ease with how wet you were. You moaned softly into his lips when he began toying with your clit, circling his fingertips around it, pressing and swirling them, making your thighs shiver and tremble below him. You squeezed his shoulders, tensing repeatedly as he was abusing the sensitive bud. With every jolt of your body, you felt the warmth flooding your system, the euphoric haze overpowering your senses, slowly rendering your brain into a heated mush. It wasn’t that long since he began and already you could feel yourself dangerously close to the edge or pleasure. With every skillful circle of his fingers, you felt like he’s pushing you to fall down into the ocean of extasy.

Your eyes squeezed shut, you couldn’t focus on his lips over yours, so he moved his head to the side to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He wasn’t meaning to mark you but couldn’t help but to leave few reddish spots over the delicious layer of your skin. Any last bit of composure snapped as the orgasm overtook you. You came all over his fingers, your thighs shivering and your vision completely blurry.

While you whined and panted, Gojo found himself even more desperate to hear his name slipping off that tongue of yours and if the consequence of this will haunt him in the future, then so be it.

“Satoru,” he purred right into your ear. “My name is Satoru.”

You registered that, you really did, but all what left your mouth in that very second was an incoherent hum that made him chuckle. Moving downwards, Gojo quickly found his place between the plush of your thighs, giving your still throbbing, swollen clit an experimental lick. You almost jumped at the feeling, your oversensitive bud threatened to make you cum for the second time right away, but he couldn’t care less about you coming down from your high. Instead, he wanted you to dive down into the depth of euphoria and so he slid one of his long fingers into your clenching hole. Immediately, your velvety walls hugged his digit, your slick covering him completely as he began moving it in and out. He kept his mouth occupied with your puffy clit, licking and sucking at it, writing the letters of his own name right onto it with the tip of his tongue and you grabbed a handful of his hair trying to stop him before you explode.

Keeping your trembling thighs apart, he added the second finger with ease, pushing them as far as he could, curling them inside you and hitting the spots you didn’t even know you had. Your sweet juices were coating his face as he sucked and slurped them greedily, slowly becoming pussy drunk from the way you tasted on his mouth. If not for the way his cock twitched against the mattress, he would have happily stayed between your legs for the rest of the night, listening to his name slipping repeatedly through your lips.

Your second orgasm hit you like a train, catapulting you right into the outer space, and for a moment you were certain you couldn’t still be on earth. How else could you explain the white constellations of stars that were spreading in the front of your vision? Satoru laughed, satisfied and still buried deep into your cunt, drinking every drop he could, with his fingers still moving in and out of you. You tried to squeeze him with your thighs, to stop him from literally killing you, because you couldn’t take the third one right after the previous two, but he was determined to prove you wrong.

Slowly adding the third finger, he stretched you even more. The burning sensation made you cry out as he picked up the pace. Even his hand was a lot, his digits long and perfectly working along your sensitive insides. Wet sounds of your pussy filled in the air, accompanying your pants and whines and the filthy noises of his mouth abusing your clit once again. It took him no time to have you cumming again, it almost hurt with how good it felt, and he pulled not only the third release from you, but also fourth. You really needed a break. With a harsh pull of his hair, you forced him up and he chuckled with content. He was breathing quickly as well, completely drunk from your sweet juices, euphoria now flowing through his veins instead of blood.

He pulled away his fingers and a cute pout formed on your lips at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

“How sweet you are,” he cooed, his tone breathy as he pushed his digits over your mouth. You took them in quickly, licking away your arousal, before he retracted his hand and kissed you fervently. The tastes now coated both of your tongues in a filthy mixture of sex and pleasure. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, yes,” you mumbled feverishly, following his lips, yearning for the soft feeling of them against yours. You felt lightheaded, the world outside the bed you were in didn’t exist to you, all you knew and wanted was a man, a stranger from the internet that was above you. His strong, sculpted body caressing yours, his tongue licking its way right into your soul and his insanely attractive voice purring the filthiest things right into your ear. For that night, he was your one and only and for that night, you were his.

Gojo pumped his length few times, smearing the precum and your sleek along it before he pressed the tip against your hole. With lust heavy in his eyes, he slowly pushed in, growling lowly at how tightly you hugged him and biting onto the supple flesh of your breast just to ground himself before he cum prematurely. You gasped at the way he tore into you, little by little pushing himself deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, so tight,” he stammered, sucking on a breath as his voice broke off to a groan. “And I’m not even halfway in.”

You muttered something – babbled, unable to form anything coherent and the way you looked like your soul was leaving your frame woke something primal in him. Satoru grabbed at your hip with one of his large hands, the digits digging into your flesh with bruising force as he playfully grinned, counting “one, two” before pushing in all the way. You trembled from under him, arching your back and throwing your head back just enough to have him glued to your throat, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Your clenching walls rid him of the lasts of his composure, as soon as he bottomed out, he began losing himself in the feeling of your body. He pulled out almost completely only to sink back fully, initiating the first thrust that pulled a loud moan from your lips.

“Say my name,” he pleaded, his tone underlined with desperation and lust as he repeated the motion once again.

“Satoru.” You obeyed, prompting him to pick up the pace. In no time, he was fucking into you with all the strength he had in his toned body, his knuckles turning white from the forceful hold he had on your hip. He kept you in place, your legs wide open and his thrusts unforgivable. He was ruthless, completely overtaken by the immense, absolute bliss of euphoria, the chase of pleasure motivating his pelvis to keep driving into you.

Your mind was emptied of everything that wasn’t him, the heated flurry of erotic haze overflowing your head and pouring down, pooling in your stomach. His pace was relentless, with every roll of his hips he stroked your walls just right, kissing every oversensitive spot inside of you with the delicious girth of his cock. It’s like he spoke in the very same language as your body, it’s like he was made, sculpted exactly in the way to fill you up to the brim with such perfection.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as the force of his hips picked up. The intense pace he’s challenged himself along with the crushing flexes of your pussy rendered him into the whining and groaning mess. Every needy flex of your walls made him go more and more feral, an overwhelming pleasure sending a hot rush of bliss throughout his nervous system. The very same impulses were jolting along your spine, sharp tendrils of hot extasy made you squeeze his shoulders and dig your nails into his strong muscles.

Satoru pushed your legs up, pressing your thighs to your chest and angling his hips in a way that has his cock slamming against your sweet spots. He was thrusting into you even deeper, although you didn’t think that’s even possible. The blunt head of his dick kissed every part of your insides as his pace began to stutter. It became desperate, fervent, somehow even rougher. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. A prayer of his name was leaving your lips without your knowledge, steadily pushing him off the edge with every syllable that your sweet voice created.

You nearly screamed when the string of pleasure snapped, an orgasm overtook you in hot waves of bliss and he was quick to follow, gritting his teeth as he dumbly pistoned his cock into you, smearing slick all over himself and your thighs. The flexes of your walls made his head fall back. His slams slowed down, became sloppier and languid; the uneven movement that carried both you and him through the highs of your blisses. Your legs fell down and he collapsed on top of you, supporting himself on his elbow to not crash you completely.

You wrapped your arms around him, allowing him to rest on your chest to catch his breath. Your heartbeat was fast, erratic even and your vision was blurry. You were drowning in the ocean of an utter satisfaction and you had no wish to swim back up.

“Think you have more in you?” He asked after few minutes of calm. His muscles flexed as he was lifting himself up above you once again and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I hope you do. We’re not done.”

That night you went few more rounds, each one seemingly more intense than the previous one. You lost count of how many times you came; you had no idea how many times he came as well. The sky above Tokyo slowly became lighter, the sun raised up from the horizon line signaling the beginning of a new day, but to you, the previous one continued. The perception of time was the last thing you had in your mind, when Satoru’s body was so close to yours. You were a mess and so was he, in a cacophony of lust driven whimpers and groaned praises, the wet sounds of skin slapping, the ragged grunts and shaky exhales, you two fulfilled the deepest needs. Souls stripped bare, bodies connected and yet still longing for more, lips never wanting to part from one another. All of that finally led you to the point of not being able to continue.

Your entire body hurt, your muscles were sore, your throat dried and your pussy aching. You were exhausted, feeling like you could pass out any second and thankfully, Satoru was just as tired as you. Breaking another one of his rules, the one to never stay in bed with his flings, he now pushed himself further to take you to bathroom for the quick shower, just to wash away the filth that covered your bodies, before laying you down on the mattress. He threw away the messy cover and laid with you, using the second one to keep you warm. Although it was day already, you still had few hours before needing to leave the suite, so he might as well sleep with you. You were gone the second you cuddled to his chest and he followed you quickly.

“Hey, gorgeous, wake up.” Satoru’s soft tone pulled you from the dreamland and if you were to be honest, you could wake up to his voice. Wiping the sleep away from your eyes, you raised up on the elbow to look at him. He was already dressed, somewhat pulled together, looking just as handsome as when you saw him for the first time, although his shirt was more wrinkled and the skin underneath his eyes just a tad bit darker. “Get up, we need to leave.”

At first, it confused you a little, but then you glanced to the side where the electronic clock was showing 9:26am. You should probably get out until 10, so the cleaning team can enter and prepare the suite for another guest. It made sense, but what made for a bigger surprise was that he still was there. You fully expected him to be gone before you open your eyes, you thought you’ll never see him again after that night, and yet there he was, waiting for you to get up.

To be fair, Satoru could have, and even planned to vanish before you wake up. He was ready to pay for another day in the suite only to let you sleep him off properly. He didn’t think he’ll even stay in bed with you after fucking, but if it was any other woman, he’d be out the door first chance he had – he never liked the awkwardness that come after the sex with a stranger. He hated those odd, pseudo-polite questions, he never truly knew how to act to not hurt the person and at the same time, not seed any false hopes, because he had no wish to settle with any of his affairs. But you were different, and he had no idea why. For you he was willing to break all of his rules, he wanted to be there when you wake up, to see the tiredness painting through your beautiful features, to leave the hotel with you and spend just as much time as he could breathing the same air as you. He hoped that maybe he’ll get lucky enough to kiss you one more time before parting ways.

You gathered yourself up, giving yourself one more quick rinse under the shower and putting on your clothes. You looked ok, considering what happened – the ice-cold water woke you up quickly. Smoothing your dress, and brushing your fingers through your hair, you left the bathroom, ready to get out of here. Satoru helped you with your jacket, handed you your bag and then put the dark, round sunglasses into the pocket on the front of his shirt. The day before you noticed the shades laying on the table.

“How are you feeling?” He asked in the elevator as he pressed the button with 0 printed on it, making the lift head down towards the lobby.

“I’m sore as if I just went through a triathlon, but other than that, I’m feeling good,” you replied in a light tone, smiling softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. Though I feel like I went through that triathlon with you.” His remark made you chuckle, and Gojo felt like the entire tension left his body along with the fear of the awkward conversations. You two went through the lobby with ease, he gave the keycards to the receptionist and led you out of the hotel.

“So, Satoru,” you began, looking up at him. In the broad daylight you noticed the slight lavender undertone to his hair. His eyes glistened even more beautifully in the sun, although for a moment you wondered if he maybe needed the glasses to protect those eyes. You decided against asking about it. “Thank you for that night. It really was incredible.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he smiled softly, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone and before you knew it, you leaned into the warm touch of his hand. “I hope you’ll forget about me quickly.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you,” you confessed, but smile never left your mouth. “But I won’t be searching for you.”

“That’ll be better for you, sweet thing.” Gojo sighed, realizing that he will never forget that night either. Before that, he couldn’t recall the name of any of his flings – sometimes he couldn’t even remember it during the meeting, but yours engraved itself into his mind permanently. But no matter how badly he’d want to continue this thing with you, see where it’ll go, he couldn’t. Being with him would make the rest of your life a constant risk, and it already was selfish of him to stand publicly and talk with you. He cleared his throat, pushing all of those thoughts away as he lightened his tone. “So, that was your first time with a stranger from the internet, huh?”

“Yeah… Honestly, it wasn’t even exactly my idea. My friend set up my account, apparently, I was too boring to be alive and in desperate need of some fun, or something like this. I’ll probably delete the app from my phone today though, I don’t think those dating sites are really for me.”

“I see. Well, I guess that’s dangerous to meet random people like this after all.”

“Also, how could anyone reach the bar of expectations after you,” you joked and he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, right, that’s reasonable. Alrighty, guess it’s time for me to go.”

“Sure.”

“Will you be okay?”

“No worries, I’ll get home on my own, Satoru.”

Satoru. He was right, his name sounded like music when spoken in your voice. There was some underlying care and softness to your tone when you addressed him, even if it wasn’t intentional. He wished to hear it more, he wished he had more time.

“Take care, alright?” He smiled, putting on his glasses. They were dark enough for you to not see his eyes anymore.

“You too.”

“Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

He didn’t kiss you. The warmth of your skin lingered on his fingers as he was walking away, a direction completely opposite to the one you went. Fuck, he didn’t even hug you.

You texted your friend on your way home, telling her that you’re okay and deleting the hundreds of missed calls that she spammed you during the night and morning. You couldn’t blame her, you went missing for the entire evening and up until now, you gave no sign of being alive. You promised her to send a text yesterday, assuming that the date won’t be too entertaining, but turned out, it was. With a sigh, you threw the phone into your bag, looking up at the sky. It was blue and clear, just as beautiful as the eyes of a man that you were meant to never see again. It pained you, and you didn’t know why. You really had no idea who he was, all you knew about him was his name, his age and his length, but other than that, you couldn’t describe him as a person to save your life. You had no idea what color he likes, what food he enjoys, what movies he watches and what’s his job – you knew how he tastes, how he feels and how he kisses. It really was just sex. Then why did you feel so void in the heart?

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru mumbled to the phone. It was Yaga calling, wanting him to come to work today even though it was one of not many days off he had. Apparently something happened, although he couldn’t make out what exactly happened. It didn’t sound so urgent, really, it didn’t sound interesting enough for Gojo to rush to school. “Yeah, actually, I’m quite busy today, you know?” He tried, but the yelling on the other side of the line only increased and if it wasn’t for his sensei, he would just hang up. Not many people had the privilege of scolding him so openly.

“Satoru, focus, it’s import-“

Oh, fuck it.

“Sorry, sensei, something’s breaking up!” He disconnected the call and turned around. He couldn’t see you in the crowd anymore, but rushed back anyway, pushing through the ocean of people. He really wanted that kiss. And that hug. And you. Even if that meant he’ll have to protect you for the rest of his life, he was willing to take that risk.

He found you few streets further, waiting on the bus stop, reading the schedule, probably searching for the nearest one. You were on the phone with someone, drinking water from the bottle that you probably bought on your way. Then the green vehicle approached and you made few steps to get in, waiting just for people to get out first.

“Y/n!”, he called, but you didn’t hear him, probably because of the phone call. “Y/n, wait!”

“Huh?” This time you heard something and stopped mid-step, looking around and searching for the voice. Once you found him, rushing towards you, your gaze lightened up and it only made him go quicker.

When Satoru reached you, his hands immediately wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest fervently and you cradled his face with as much of your hand as you could, keeping your phone in it still, with your friend on the line. You couldn’t care about her rambling, when he was kissing you like he just saw the love of his life for the first time in years. For that moment, you felt like you’re inside the low budget rom-com, like you’re one of those fictional characters that find love at the first sight – the ones that you always make fun of, because there’s no such thing as love at the first sight. Life is far from the reality of those romantic shows that young girls love so much.

“Satoru, what are you doing?” You asked him, catching your breath when he parted his lips from yours just enough to allow himself to speak.

“You might be in danger if you keep seeing me. Fuck, you most likely will be in danger if you keep seeing me. But I can protect you. I’m able to keep you safe if-“, voice got stuck in his throat, but the encouraging smoothing of your fingers on his cheek pushed him to finish. “If you’ll trust me and be willing to… We could go grab some breakfast, for starters. What do you think?”

“I trust you, Satoru,” you replied with your voice calm. “And breakfast sounds perfect.”

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