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ohnococo · 4 months

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Fight Night | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

“You know why you’re here. You can take it or leave it.” His hand pushes its way higher up between your thighs until his fingers meet your panties, rubbing against your pussy as he squeezes your flesh. His smile at having confirmed you were just as wet as he knew you were is absolutely wicked and your pussy is practically fluttering with the way he looks at you. He dips his head even lower to graze his teeth along your neck, hot breath followed by an even hotter tongue licking a playful path. “You seem like you can take it, though.”

You weren't familiar with Infamous MMA Fighter Ryomen 'The King' Sukuna when he entered the club, but he certainly wants to become familiar with you.

Warnings: public sex, slight exhibitionism, size difference bordering on size kink, Sukuna has a monster hog that's pierced, fingering, creampie, rough sex, reader doesn't realize there's a voyeur present.

Notes: Based off of the AU in this post.

Only an hour and a half into your night and things had already gotten interesting.

You’re among the many heads stretched and straining to see what the hell the commotion was about, or rather who it’s about. The staff cutting back and forth through the crowd had only been noticed by a few. The dozen people walking in at once had garnered a bit more attention. Then, the absolutely massive guy that followed them, moving into the centre of the entourage, gathered even more attention. You don’t even know who he is, but the most annoying guys in your immediate vicinity all seem like they’ve just seen God himself enter the club, shouting to each other about him winning something big, followed by drunken recountings of what was apparently a fight. He’s flanked by a sizeable group of men and if he weren’t fucking huge you’d assume most of the entourage were bodyguards from the way they part the crowd to allow him through unhindered. With the way people nearest to them were pointing and smiling he was apparently recognizable to enough people here. You weren’t among those people, but your interest was piqued nonetheless.

You can hardly see him at this distance, but you reckon he must be over 6’5” with the way he’s head and shoulders above everyone. You can’t quite discern his features but he looks like he’s scanning the crowd, only pausing for a moment to lean down before he makes his way to his own area, accompanied by his own small crowd. The glass balustrades allow you to watch him as he goes past the bouncer unquestioned and up the stairs to the VIP section. Even when he’s out of view the feel of the room has shifted entirely, mark effectively left on the place.

Your eyes had been so intent on him you hadn’t noticed the person who’d broken off from his entourage until they’re in front of you and waving a hand at you before leaning in to shout and be heard over the music.

“Do you party?”

What the fuck did they think you were doing? Dress held onto your body by a hope and a prayer, eyes glassy, pupils blown, and this stranger was being coy? Maybe you would be too.

“Maybe. Who’s asking?” They were too young for you, having that awkward ‘are they 19 or 30’ appearance. They were too small too, but you’d seen them trailing along behind the big guy with their fuck ass bob and knew exactly who it really was asking from the way they were looking at you like another errand.

They point up to the balcony, speaking with a reverence coated in the assumption that you’d be impressed, “The King.”

“Who?”

“You’re joking?” They look offended, like they might rescind the offer that hadn’t yet been made, but you knew it wasn’t their choice to come over here, it was this King’s.

You shrug. “I don’t watch boxing.”

“He’s not a boxer.” They spit out the word, boxer, like it had been an insult. “He’s the reigning heavyweight champion of JFC.”

Your laugh at the name has them dumbfounded, explaining even though you couldn’t look more unphased by his apparent celebrity.

“Jujutsu Fighting Championship?” They say it like it explains everything. Like it meant anything more than anyone else’s accolade’s in terms of you having a good night.

“Does this King have a real name? Or just a pretend one?”

“Ryomen Sukuna, and he’d like to invite you up to the VIP lounge. Do you want to go or not?”

You did. You knew you didn’t get up there without spending an exorbitant amount on bottle service, and having the additional funds to beat out anyone else looking to enjoy its amenities. Besides, you knew you weren’t going to turn down free drinks and maybe a story for tomorrow. So you put on a coy smile, indicating that you’d play nice for the opportunity.

“Sure.”

The way they take off, cutting through the crowd at a brisk pace, keeps you on your toes as you try to follow along, pushing against people as you do - some dancing, some looking up at the balcony above and hoping for another peek at the man you were just about to meet.

Once you’re in front of the bouncer at the bottom of the stairs, your temporary escort is annoyed at having to give their name, huffing out a curt “Uraume.” as the man slowly looks through his clipboard, stepping aside once satisfied.

You’re just as quick to keep up when going up the stairs too, trying to look casual as you finally enter the VIP lounge, scanning the room as though your attention wouldn’t automatically be brought to the giant man seated near the wall. Uraume gives a nod to the man, and you’re surprised to see he returns it with a friendly smile, though any trace of warmth is soon gone as they then settle into a corner and The King turns his attention to you as you approach.

Looking at him up close it’s obvious he’s a fighter, you don’t know how you hadn’t immediately guessed it even from seeing him across the club even before people around you started mentioning fights and belts and such. Besides him being built, he has dyed hair that’s a faded colour usually seen among those showy men you meet around Vegas, uniquely employed enough to opt for bolder styles yet dedicated enough to training to let it fade ever so slightly. Nevermind the prominent tattoos on his face, neck, and disappearing down beneath his shirt. Eccentric appearance and fucking huge typically meant one thing around here: fighter. Or wannabe fighter, usually, but with the handles of liquor and nervous energy of the staff that had been rushing around since he’d arrived you knew for sure he wasn’t just some wannabe. From the look of his entourage he might not be just a fighter either.

Well, at least he was handsome.

The only seat available is right next to the man himself. He’s cross legged with his arm draped over the back of the leather couch - over the space you were presumably going to be sitting in. You imagine him instructing his goons to leave it free and feel slightly flattered, not too flattered though as you’re sure it’s a regular occurrence given his apparent popularity.

“Aw, no one wanted to sit next to you?” You give him a teasing pout and he laughs, loud and booming and rich, and you feel everyone around you relax collectively. He liked you up close too, and the feeling was mutual as he pats his lap.

“You can sit here if you prefer.”

Cheeky, you want to get a feel for him first though, so you sit next to him instead. “Buy me a drink first.”

He gestures to the table in front of you, littered with bottles. You look over them, considering your choice carefully. When he puts a hand on your upper thigh and leans into you, brushing his nose against your neck and bypassing any pretence of what he’d invited you up here for, you decide your tastes are a little more expensive. At least when it comes to playing with him.

“No Dom Perignon?”

The way his hand squeezes your thigh has you wondering if he was mad that you were taking advantage. The hungry look he flashes when he leans back to look you up and down lets you know he didn’t care as long as you both got something out of tonight. He glances over to a man who had been standing in wait for his every word, and he skitters off to make it happen.

You feign having only a passing interest in him while you wait, looking at him with brows raised, appraising him as he must have done to you when he’d entered the club. “So you’re supposed to be famous, right?”

Famous, you say it with a slight dry singsong that indicates as dazzling of an occurrence as meeting a celebrity might be, you weren’t quite so dazzled. He raises a brow in amusement, still rubbing at your thigh in a heavy reminder that you both knew why he’d called you up.

“Not famous enough, apparently.” He doesn’t seem nearly as perturbed by your ignorance of him as his small companion had. In fact, it doesn’t seem to phase him at all.

“So are you good at fighting?”

He makes no attempt to stop his cocky grin, and a predatory look flashes in his eyes as he seems to reflect on his own skill. “Yes.”

The staff sent off earlier returns with a bottle and glass, making a show of presenting it to you before opening it. As he does, Ryomen puts a finger on your chin, turning your attention back to him.

“I fought tonight, actually.”

“Oh?” As soon as his hand is off your face and back on your thigh, you turn back to the man pouring your drink, reaching out to accept the glass before he rests the bottle in a bucket of ice and returns to his spot near enough to be at Sukuna’s call.

“I put a man in the hospital.”

You sit back, taking a sip of the champagne as he puts his heavy arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer into him. You take in his expression carefully. Wasn’t that the point of fighting? You deduce that maybe he’d gone a bit further than was typical from the way he looks at you though. There was a sense of pride in the way he’d said it, a sense of satisfaction, even as the smallest flash of his narrowing eyes hinted at it being a warning.

“Does that scare you?” He looks as though he might just love it if the answer were yes.

You cross one leg over the other, trapping his large hand between your thighs, as you finish your drink in one long sip. Maybe it was a waste, but it wasn’t your money. “Should it?”

He dips his head low until your faces are close, and the size difference is enough that it’s as if he’s closing you off from the room as he does it, giving you a false sense of privacy as his lips meet yours. You’re surprised at the pacing of his kiss. It’s far from gentle, but slow, languid, and even if you weren’t ready for it to deepen you’d have had no chance of denying his tongue entry as he pushes it into your mouth. Happily, you match his intensity, opening yourself to him as he explores your mouth. His teeth catch at your bottom lip, nipping hard enough to keep you from getting too lost in the feel of his lips on yours, even as the tinge of pain has your pussy clenching.

When the arm draped around your shoulders slides further round so he can shove his hand into your top you arch into him, thighs squeezing his right hand tighter as he slides the heavy fingers of his left across your nipple playfully. You’re snapped back to reality only slightly when you feel the empty glass being pulled from your hand, glancing to the side even as you keep kissing him to see one of his entourage setting it down on the table in front of you before taking a place standing against the wall, staring out and over the balcony at the crowd below as if there were truly nothing to see here.

Sukuna rolls your nipple between two of his thick fingers, pulling your full attention back onto him. You bring your now freed hand to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you tilt your head back and lean further into his touch. Between the tightness of the fabric across your chest and the sheer size of his hands, he’s quickly tired of being so restricted in touching you, pulling his hand out and tugging the top of your dress down to free your breasts as he resumes his teasing. You pull back, having to turn your head away entirely to stop the chase of his lips as you pull your dress back up.

“Whoa-“ you haven’t even moved your hand from your chest before his much larger hand is covering yours, squeezing tightly but not moving to expose you again. There’s a slight warning in his touch, even if he’s smiling at you, bemused by your sudden modesty even as he broadcast to you clear as day that this was precisely what he’d had you brought up here for.

“You’re cute.” The way he says it doesn’t quite feel like a compliment, it feels more like he’s calling you a brat with a bow on it. The fact that it only makes you wetter isn’t lost on you though. “Don’t play with me too much, though.”

He’s moving the ball into your court, making sure you know that you weren’t up here just to get drunk and look pretty. He watches as you consider how much you want to do in front of these people, how much you want to show, and sighs, growing bored already. You asserted a boundary, so he’d assert his in no uncertain terms. Whether that was acceptable was up to you.

The shiver that runs through you as he uncrosses your legs with one hand and pulls your panties to the side with his thumb has him chuckling against your neck while he begins sucking marks into the sensitive skin. His fingers are as rough as you’d guessed as he slides them through your wetness and your eyes shut as you melt into his touch. He’s skilled, teasing you enough to have you angling your hips up for more, pushing one of his thick fingers in just before you’re lost in the sensation enough to whine for it. Once you clench around it he wastes no time, adding a second before digging deep and sliding calloused fingertips over the spot that has you tugging at his hair.

Suddenly, his fingers withdraw, and he pulls your legs open wide, laying one over his lap to give him better access to you. Your eyes snap open as the momentary loss of contact brings you back to your senses enough to remember you were surrounded by a dozen strangers. You tense and snap your legs back shut, and Sukuna sighs again.

“They don’t care what we do.”

Still, having your pussy spread wide in the direct line of sight of strangers was just crossing the line tonight, so you pull away from him slightly and glance around the room to reaffirm your boundary.

He looks you up and down, and for a moment you think he might actually send you away to finish the night with the masses, wetness still smeared along your thighs. It was clear he could have someone more willing up here in a heartbeat. Instead, his lips curl into a smile, and it both unsettles you and makes your pussy clench.

“Go dance.” His eyes hadn’t left yours as he said it, but it was clear it was an order to everyone but you despite the fact that he hadn’t said it to anyone in particular. The crowd in the room moves at once - getting up, grabbing drinks as they go, and leaving the two of you alone. Your eyes are still locked on his, held captive by the intensity of his gaze, heart beating faster and faster as people filter past and down the stairs.

“Better?”

In lieu of an answer you slide your panties partially off, leaving them bunched around one ankle as you climb onto his lap, straddling him. He slides his hands up your thighs and cups your ass, letting his fingers sink into your flesh before deciding he’d have your tits out just as he’d wanted earlier. He tugs your dress down enough to give him the view he’d wanted, then pushes your dress up from the bottom as well to give him better access and you let him do as he pleases at both ends, wrapping your arms around his thick neck and kissing along his tattooed jaw. You settle yourself down onto his lap, starting to grind against him to get an idea of just how big his cock is, but he’s insistent on having his hand between the two of you, sliding his fingers back inside for you to ride them instead.

His thick knuckles catch at your entrance in a way that has your wetness leaking all the faster as the fucks them up into you, and once you’re grinding down to meet his movements he moves his other hand to the back of your head, keeping your lips pressed firmly against his. When his thumb starts stroking at your clit and you moan into his mouth he takes it as his cue to push a third finger into you, pace picking up as his fingers curl just right to add to the sensations he was pulling from you. They’re pushing so deep and fast that it almost distracts from the stretch as he spreads them each time he’s as deep as he can get. As the coil in you tightens, you try to break your endless kiss to warn him you’re close but find you’re held firmly in place. Not that it mattered how much of a mess you made of his lap at this point.

You’re so wet you know his pants must already be absolutely ruined, and as his tongue tangles with yours you realise that you still haven’t gotten a chance to sneak a feel at his cock, thanks to his hand between the two of you. You want to see it, feel it before you cum on it, taste it even, as you become keenly aware of how desperate you are to have it in your mouth. It’s as if his attitude had made you want to match his cockiness, it had made you competitive, and you want to knock him down a peg with your tongue, your mouth, your throat.

As you try again to pull away you have to dig your nails into his shoulders to stop him from kissing you, he was large enough, and hungry enough, that you couldn’t evade him otherwise. When you lock eyes he looks annoyed, tired of any further delays.

“Get your cock out.”

Your words have his eyes sparkling, and he flashes you another wicked grin that only makes you absolutely desperate to feel him in your throat.

He pulls his fingers from you and slides you down just enough to sit atop his knees as he makes quick work of both button and zip with one hand as the other hand stays tightly gripping your ass to hold you in place. He pulls his cock out from where it rests hard and heavy across his hip within his pants, stroking it with an iron grip as he looks into your eyes, gaze nearly as intimidating as the thing in front of you as he revels in your reaction at seeing its size.

It is, to your awe and slight horror, perfectly proportional to the rest of his massive frame. Thick, heavy, with a fat head almost flushed red and veins rippling along the girthy shaft. The steel beads of the piercings trailing down underneath his length glimmer in the dim lighting of the room and add an extra amount of flair and fright to the honest to god mean appearance of such an intimidating cock. He squeezes at the base and when he releases it it flops back against his stomach, unable to stand with all of its weight. As much as your mouth is watering, you know your limits. Gone are your hopes of taking it to the base, watching him marvel at disappearing into your throat - and sucking on the head while you jerk him off wasn’t exactly what you’d pictured.

“Too much for you?”

The words, filled with mockery, pull your gaze back up to his, and he looks so very smug when you let out a less-than-confident, “No.”

“Well?” He wasn’t going to let that weak answer stand, pressing at you and enjoying the falter in your face from just how greedily you’d asked him to get it out just a moment ago.

“I just don’t know if I can suck that.”

Your honesty delights him, and his cock jumps slightly as he tenses from laughter. “I’m not asking you to. I didn’t stretch that cunt open for nothing.”

He pulls you closer with the hand gripping your ass, and slides three fingers back inside you unceremoniously. They had indeed gone in with much more ease than they had several minutes ago, and he begins pumping them inside you again. With the way he was stirring you up you know the noises would have been absolutely obscene if not for the music, not that you would have cared what people hear at this point.

You really had wanted to show off for him, slurping, gagging, taking him to the base and looking up at him with tear streaked eyes. But he was a fucking monster and you’d just have to accept that loss, something relatively easy to do as his fingers are right back to stirring you up. Those thoughts of knocking him down a peg with your head game are long gone as you rock into his fingers, meeting his palm for some needed friction, and just when you get it he pulls his fingers out and rubs your slick along his shaft.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if you were some servant, pulling your attention from his cock alone to his face as he gives you an order with a bemused expression. “Sit on it.”

With your pussy desperate to be full again, you’re in no position to delay the inevitable any longer, bracing yourself for your cunt to take what you weren’t sure your mouth could. He takes you licking your lips and rising higher onto your knees as accepting his order and spits on his hand, rubbing it over his cock to join the wetness that was already coating it. A few minutes ago you’d have questioned if that was necessary with how wet he’d gotten you. At this point you’d take what you can get, not that anything could stop you now.

He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you forward and up until he can line the head of his cock up with your entrance. The thick head swirling through your wetness for only a moment is the last warning before he’s sinking you down onto him. He turns his attention to your chest as he does, sucking a nipple between his lips, latching onto as much of your breast as he can suck into his large mouth. He stops only once, half way, pumping up and into you a few times, helping coax your wetness down his shaft, before he’s pulling you down onto him completely, groaning once you’ve taken it all.

He releases your breast, tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he does, and that pain almost eclipses the absolute stretch of having him in your guts. It’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, and you let out a few gasps as you try to clench and adjust to him. He chuckles, and the feel of his cock throbbing inside of you as he does has your thighs jumping, fingers digging into his pecs as you rock your hips slowly. His hand falls between the two of you, palm pressing at your abdomen, thumb swiping at your clit, coaxing you back into yourself.

“C'mon, where's all that fire now?”

’Just a second,’ you think, ’just give me one fucking second.’ You don’t say that, though, you can’t. Instead you let out the tiniest little stutter, a noise you’d have been mortified at if your brain weren’t so focused on the feel of being so completely stuffed full.

“Aw,” you open your eyes at this and see Sukuna donning a pout not unlike the one you’d given him upon entering meeting him, “didn’t think I’d break you before I’d even fucked you properly.”

Between his words and his thumb swiping insistently at your clit, something clicks and you bring your knees up, planting your heels on the couch for purchase as you start slowly moving up his length before seating yourself back down. You clench around him as you rise, letting out moans once you settle back on him and he wraps a hand around your jaw, pulling your face close to kiss you as you ride him.

“Mmm, there you go,” he nips at your lower lip before releasing your face to lean back, fully relaxed against the couch below as his thumb continues to lazily swipe at your clit.

He watches you moan, and tense, and struggle to ride to the very tip of his length before coming back down and rocking your hips. You feel him making his cock twitch inside of you when you stop riding, baring his teeth in a wicked smile at the moan it elicits from you. It’s not easy work to ride him, and he knows it. Even just being on his lap, he’s too big to ride with your knees comfortable on the couch. Nevermind adding the considerable length you have to work your way up without coming down too fast or hard.

Still, you give it your all, thighs shaking both exertion and the intensity of having him so deep. Your hands dig into his pecs as you watch him taking you in, eyes burning, biting at his own lip in what you think might be an attempt to stifle his own deep moans as you find your footing and begin riding him in earnest. His eyes flick down to your tits, watching them bounce, pushed together by the positioning of your arms and he begins rocking his hips up every so often. It’s just enough to have your tits bouncing harder, just enough to throw you off too - pussy quaking every time his hips snap up into yours with no warning. He watches your face again, laughing as frustration builds at him throwing off your pace even as he helps to build the pressure in your core.

You let loose a groan between your huffs and sighs of pleasure and dig your nails into his pecs, earning a thrust from below hard enough to send you toppling forward into his grasp. He holds you firmly in place, biting and sucking at the tits now in his face before he’s releasing them in lieu of pulling your mouth down onto his by the back of your neck. He matches the pace you’d set earlier, letting you rock your hips into his movements and think, just for a moment, that you still had some semblance of control.

“Cute…” he almost growls it into your mouth, and his lips curling into a smile against yours is the closest you get to a warning as he thrusts up into you at a pace too punishing for you to even begin to match.

You feel like a rag doll as he holds you chest to chest with him, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you down and onto him. He’s fucking you hard enough you swear you can feel him in your chest, and his heavy balls slap at your ass with the speed and strength of his hips snapping against yours.

“Fuck…” it’s the most intelligible thing you can say at this point, and that has his cock throbbing inside of you as he bares his teeth at you in another of those wicked grins that have your stomach and pussy tightening in unison. All you can do is hold on to him, hands clutching to fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt as he uses your body, the fast approach of your orgasm seemingly incidental as he chases his own high.

He lets loose a noise just short of a roar as he fucks you so hard you begin to understand why he’d asked if you were scared of him earlier. Your brain feels like it’s threatening to break with the feel of him and the way the girth of him presses and slides against every inch of your pussy is the only thing anchoring you to your body. As he begins pumping you full of cum the slowing of his thrusts gives your cunt something to cling to once the pressure within you reaches a fever pitch and you cum, tensing, clawing at his chest as you resume riding him weakly for a just a moment through the rest of your orgasm.

He gives you a moment, as he takes his, enjoying fucking his cum up into you until you’re squirming. When you push at him he lifts you off of him, sliding you back onto the couch, and you’re far too spent to even worry about the cum dripping out of you and onto the likely expensive leather below. You catch your breath, body buzzing and barely aware of the man next to you idly waving his hand at the corner of the room as he tucks his cock back into his pants.

As someone emerges from the dark of the corner of the room you snap your legs shut and pull your dress in place, realising in horror that not everyone had been dismissed earlier. The very person who had annoyedly guided you here earlier then heads to the stairs, presumably to retrieve the rest of the entourage.

Sukuna leans forward, pulling the previously forgotten champagne from its resting place, filling your glass before bringing the bottle to his lips as he settles back into his seat. While you’re processing what the other person in the room had seen, sheepishly pulling your panties back up, he’s already past it, ready to continue his night as people filter back in, equally unphased.

“Drink up, the night’s still young.”

Through the embarrassment of having cum leaking out of you in a room full of strangers is a small excitement building, and you’re more pleased than you’d like to admit that you were apparently invited along to whatever this man had in mind for tonight.

CHAPTER 2

#minors will be blocked #my writing #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #reader insert

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trashfangirlsworld · 1 month

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I'm gonna attempt to make another post talking about stuff I've seen after q's stream, because I saw people say that the last one I made made them feel better, so here we go:

why is he speaking spanish: this is not something I necesserly saw after yesterday, but I did see it last time he streamed a statement regarding qsmp and the fact that he had to start this stream fucking explaining why he's speaking his native language to formulate what he wants to say better is fucking vile to me and anyone that said that last time does not have a right to stay in this fandom or to even talk about this situation.

he does not have a right to sound mad: i'm sorry, but he has every right to sound frustrated, he is not mad at the admins that choose to leave the project, he explicitly says he understand their decision and wishes them the best, he is frustrated at those that have caused damage to the server in the first place and are still the reason why he can't be more open about what's happening. We are talking about his passion project here, of course he's frustrated that this is happening, even if he completely understands why some admins are leaving.

he is enabling hate against lea and others! (people that have leaked information): quackity has every right to cite the reason as to why he can't openly communicate the way he wants to, especially when those leaks have been twisted and used against him by the people that were initially harming the server in the first place (those he fired). He openly says the he doesn't necesserly think that the people that are leaking stuff are aware of how those leaks are actually being used, so he's not blaming any specific person. Actions have consequences, no one is the exception to this rule in this situation.

he says any criticism is invalid!: no he just straight up doesn't. He says he's not bothered by people that give non-constructive critcism and whose goal is clearly to see the project destroyed. If you feel like this statement is a call out to what you have been saying, then maybe you should reflect on what you actually want here and potentially leave. If you have constructive criticism you want to say, once again keep in mind that quackity does not have twitter on his phone and the best way to commuincate something to him is through his public email.

As quackity himself said multiple times, if you're not happy with how things are going and don't want to wait for visible change it's fine, but do not twist and nitpick stuff because you don't want to step away from something if you don't have a "moral" reason to do so. I said this multiple times, but this is just a shitty fucking situation that does not have an easy and quick solution to it, and people will make decisions or mistakes that you will not like on all sides, it does not mean there is malicious intent behind those decisions. Again, we may not know their names and how many there were, but we know who is actually to blame for all of this and I hope quackity is in the process/is gonna be able to sue them. The admins that choose to leave because of any reason have every right to do so, something that quackity himself also expressed on his stream. It is very possible to support them completely while understanding why things are the way they are, as much as everyone fucking dislikes it.

I genuinely hope qsmp is able to come back stronger, however long it takes, because I personally think this project is good and does not deserve to end this way. Much love to everyone, once again remember to have empathy to everyone.

#I might add more depending on what I see but for now this is it #also #do not force the admins to fucking make statements #about if they're leaving or not #let them do what they want #qsmp #qsmp discourse #qadmin situation

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burntheedges · 2 months

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Maintenance Request: Chapter 12

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 8.1k

chapter summary: it's (finally) time for your first date with Joel. a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, flirting with intent, touching, kissing, dancing, banter, drink and food mention, reader can wink (author cannot lol), semi-public canoodling, reader sits on Joel’s lap, groping

Chapter 12

Friday, October 25 Ninth week of the semester

On Friday evening you were nervous. Excited, but nervous.

“You’re going to have an amazing time, you know that. He’s so into you and we both know how much you like him.” Beth’s voice came from the shelf where you had your phone propped up with her on FaceTime. You were trying to figure out what to wear for your date.

“I just want to find the right outfit.” You were standing in your closet in your underwear, which Beth had already teased you for. You held up your black jeans and another top. “What about this?”

“Hmm,” Beth leaned towards the camera to look at it. “That is a great color on you.”

You held it up and sighed. “I’m not feeling it, I think.” You thought for a moment. “Wait!” You dove into the back and pulled out a top you hadn’t worn in ages — you looked amazing in it, but it wasn’t really work appropriate so it had slowly gotten shuffled to the depths of your closet.

“Yes! I forgot you had that. That’s the one.”

You smiled, agreeing. “I forgot I had it, too. Ok, I’m going to finish getting ready.”

“Better run! It’s like 6:35.”

“Shit! Ok, love you, talk to you later.”

You reached to end the call, and before you could, Beth said, “you better text me! If you go home with him, tell me where you are!” You said you would and hung up.

As you moved to put your phone down, you noticed you had a text from Ellie.

Ellie (6:21 PM): don’t forget to tell him if he fucks up I’m coming for him 🔪 have a nice date

It made you laugh, which was probably her goal.

you (6:37 PM): 🫡

Ellie (6:37 PM): and take a video of you dancing

you (6:38 PM): 🙄

You were mostly ready, just had to throw on your (finally) chosen outfit. That was why you’d called Beth in the first place — you’d almost been ready to go, and had totally stalled out in front of your closet, trying to figure out what to wear.

You stepped into your kitchen with only minutes to spare. At 6:59pm you were looking at the clock on your microwave when you heard a knock on your front door. You smiled, and grabbed your purse.

When you opened the door, Joel was waiting for you on the other side. He’d forgone another of his flannel shirts, and instead was wearing a dark green dress shirt that hugged his arms and shoulders deliciously. You found yourself slowly trailing your eyes down his torso to where he had it tucked into his dark jeans. His tight dark jeans. You swallowed and darted your gaze back to meet his eyes.

You found him checking you out in the same way, and you smiled again.

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

His eyes snapped back to yours when you greeted him. He smirked. “You look gorgeous, darlin’.” He stepped forward and revealed a small bouquet of colorful flowers in his left hand. “For you.”

You grinned, and took the flowers from him, noting that none of them would make you sneeze. “These are lovely, thank you.” You moved to step back towards your kitchen and gestured him inside. “Come in while I put them in water.” He followed you over the threshold and you heard him walking slowly behind you as you searched for a vase.

“I like your place, darlin’.” You looked over your shoulder and found him inspecting the art and pictures hung in your entryway. “It’s very you.”

You smiled as you pulled out a vase for the flowers and arranged them inside. “Oh?” You felt more than heard him come up behind you. He touched your waist lightly with both hands and you felt his breath on the right side of your neck. You bit your lip against a grin.

“It feels warm and inviting. It’s cute. Like you.” You leaned back into him and he took it as the invitation it was, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’ll have to visit yours and see how much it looks like you.”

He laughed, and then leaned down and kissed the spot under your ear he had mentioned in his text. Your breath caught. “Our place is mostly Sarah, I think.” His lips moved against your neck as he spoke.

“Hmm,” you tilted your head to give him easier access. “I’ll just have to judge it for myself, then.” You felt him smile into your neck and his arms hugged you tighter.

“We should get going before I decide I’d rather keep you here,” he murmured into your neck. He pressed one final kiss there before stepping away.

You turned to smile at him. “You could probably talk me into it.”

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and shaking his head at you. “No, darlin’, I’m taking you out. Been looking forward to this for weeks.” He reached down to take your hand and started walking backwards towards your front door. “No gettin’ distracted, now. We have places to be.” He winked.

You followed behind him to your front hall and out the door, turning to lock it behind you. You felt his hand slide into place on your lower back as the two of you walked out of your apartment building to his truck. He handed you into the passenger side before climbing in himself, and you were off.

You took advantage of the opportunity and watched Joel as he drove. “I’m glad we made it to date night.”

He smiled and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Me too, darlin’.” He reached over and took your hand in his, resting both on the center console. “I think you’ll like the music. The band is really great.” He squeezed your hand.

“I’m sure I will. I am nervous about the dancing, though.”

Joel looked at you as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “I’ll be there to guide you, darlin’. They won’t be doing anything too complicated.” You nodded, still a bit nervous, but reassured.

Over the rest of the ride, Joel filled you in on the band you’d be seeing — The Wild Strawberries — since he did know them, and had seen them perform locally many times. It sounded like they were, at the very least, friendly acquaintances. His thumb lightly stroked the back of your hand the whole way there.

The bar was downtown, somewhat close to the university, but tucked onto a side street that you knew students rarely frequented. (Which was a good thing. The last thing you wanted to do was run into your students on a date.) You could see through the front windows that the space inside was large, with a big stage near the back, a dance floor, and tables scattered throughout the room. A long bar made of dark, solid wood stretched along the entire right hand wall. It was busy, but not overcrowded. In neon letters and a fancy font the name The Tipsy Bison stretched over the front facade.

Joel parked down the street and came around the car to open your door before handing you out of the truck. He kept hold of your hand as you turned to walk back towards the bar. “So you’ve never been to the Bison before, darlin’?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been to a few other places on this block, but never here. I’m not often downtown in the evenings.” As you approached the door Joel transferred your right hand to his right so he could settle his left low on your back to guide you through the opening.

The Bison, as Joel called it, was warm and inviting inside. On the stage there were a couple of people setting up for the band, and the tables were about half full. You and Joel claimed a table near the dance floor where you could easily see the stage. As you sat, you heard someone call Joel’s name from behind you.

“There you are, you bastard. You said you’d come see us play months ago.” A friendly looking man in a nice button up shirt came over and clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. Joel rolled his eyes as the man looked over at you. “Well, hello there! I’m Frank. And who might you be?” Frank held out his hand and you shook it as you introduced yourself. A sly look came over his face when he heard your name, and he turned back to Joel. “Wait, is this the Gorgeous Prof—”

Joel rolled his eyes and sighed. “How many people did Tommy tell about that?”

Frank laughed, and you grinned. “Wasn’t Tommy, I’m afraid. Tess sold you out this time.” Joel sighed again.

You took pity on him and cut in, “don’t worry, he had a nickname, too. We were calling him ‘Hot Construction Asshole’ for a while there.” Frank laughed, loudly. When you caught Joel’s eye again you winked, and he gave you that half smile that you loved.

“Well!” Frank clapped his hands. “I’m glad you’re here. Finally. And it’s lovely to meet you. I’ll introduce you to my husband later, he’s not here yet but he’ll be holding down that corner booth eventually.”

You smiled and nodded, noticing that the booth in question had a “Reserved” sign. “I’d love to meet him.”

Frank wandered off and you turned back to Joel. “So how many people did you talk to about me?” He blushed, and you grinned.

“Just Sarah, Tommy and Tess, darlin’, but Tess and Frank are thick as thieves. No telling who Tommy’s talked to.”

You shrugged. “Well, you know I talked to Beth and Ellie. And my sister, Ellie’s mom, a bit.” You didn’t really want to get into that now so you didn’t pause to let him ask any questions. “Like I said before, we just need new nicknames.” You tilted your head as you considered him. “What do you think, hot stuff?”

He smirked. “Oh, are we stickin’ with that one?”

“I was trying it out.” You smiled at him, unrepentant. “Was also thinking of calling you ‘cowboy.’ Seeing what fits.”

He eyed you. “Well, darlin’, you can call me that if you like.” He leaned closer so he could speak lowly into your ear. “I know you like it when I call you sweet names, honey, but I’m determined to figure out which one is your favorite.” He leaned back to take in the effect his words had on you, and you assumed he wasn’t disappointed. You felt the heat in your cheeks and the hitch in your breath. Whatever was happening in your body must have been written all over your face.

“Oh?” Your voice was breathy and high pitched.

He leaned back in to press a kiss to your cheek, soft. “I can tell you like darlin’, and honey, but we’ll just have to keep looking for the right one.”

You turned towards him, and found that your faces were just inches apart. “The right one for what?” You felt a bit dazed, and you realized you were staring at his mouth. You watched as the corners rose into a smirk again.

“The right one, baby, for later. When you let me kiss you again, like you did in your office. And maybe we find out what happens next, when we don’t get interrupted.” You bit your lip and swayed towards him, but you were startled away from his gaze by the arrival of your server.

“Evening, folks! What can I getcha?”

You felt Joel lean away from you as you both glanced down at the drink menus you hadn’t touched. But that was alright — Joel ordered a beer and you ordered your go-to drink.

As your server stepped away, you looked back at Joel and felt a bit off kilter, coming down from your intimate moment that had been interrupted. He regarded you and slid his hand over to rest next to yours. “So what do you think, darlin’? About the Bison?”

You looked around you, and then back at Joel. You slid your hand closer so your fingers were touching. “I like it, Joel. It’s right up my alley.”

He smiled, and started playing with your fingers. “Good.”

Over drinks you talked about work a bit, and then about your friends, and Sarah and Ellie. Joel told you about Sarah’s soccer games (she was a forward) and how she was thinking about going out for the school varsity team next year.

You told him about Ellie starting the art club at her school and getting in trouble for cursing at one of her teachers, which was really par for the course. He laughed through the story, though, and summed it up with, “she sounds like a real firecracker. Sarah’d like her,” which made you smile and lace your fingers with his on the table.

“She is,” you agreed.

You ordered some food, and the band started getting in place when it arrived. You scooted a bit closer to Joel so you’d have a better angle on the stage and he set his arm along the back of your chair, turning toward you in response. You noticed Frank was holding a bass guitar.

When the music started, Joel leaned toward you to murmur in your ear, “you want another drink, darlin’? Before we get out on the floor.” You nodded, and he squeezed your hand before standing and heading towards the bar.

Frank’s band had a bit of a folksy sound, mixed with traditional rock and country. Their first few songs were fun and upbeat and you watched as people started to move onto the dance floor. Some couples were doing what looked like a two-step to your untrained eye, while others did the more accessible sway-in-place. A large group of friends was also hovering near the front and dancing together.

Joel returned with your drinks and pointed out what was, in fact, two people dancing a two-step and named a few of the moves for you. You started to feel overwhelmed at how much you didn’t know about dancing, while he was so knowledgeable.

Joel scooted his chair closer to yours and leaned in. You realized he must have noticed how much you liked it when he spoke right in your ear.

“What do you think, darlin’? Wanna give it a go?” He moved his arm from the back of your chair closer to you, letting his fingers brush against your arm. You shivered, and you could see that he noticed when he smirked.

“Go easy on me?” You could hear the lack of confidence in your voice. His smirk gentled into a smile.

“Darlin’, just follow me. I won’t let you stumble.” He stood and offered you his hand, which you took.

Joel led you to an empty area near the edge of the dance floor and guided you into a stance you noticed was similar to the one the other dancers were using. “Alright, look, we’ll take it slow. Start with the basics.” And he did. He guided you through a simple two-step, and before you knew it you were moving around your corner of the dance floor to the beat. Slowly, but you were doing it. You watched your feet as you tried to keep up with the step.

Joel cleared his throat. “So? What do you think?”

Your eyes flew from your feet to meet his gaze. You smiled, hesitantly. “Am I doing it?”

He grinned at you. “You are, honey.”

You and Joel kept it up for the rest of the song, moving slowly. After a few minutes you were able to look away from your feet again.

“How did you learn how to dance?”

He turned you as you approached the tables, to keep you on the dance floor, and you felt his hand move across your back to bring you closer to him. “My mother taught me and my brother. Our family gatherings tend to feature a lot of dancing.”

“With you and your brother?”

“Well, with the whole family. Our cousins, everybody. Sarah, too.” You realized you were a lot closer to Joel than when you started, but you were still managing not to step on his feet. You smiled. “She’s been dancing at family parties since she was just a kid. Everyone on that side loves to dance, with, ah, varying levels of skill.”

You laughed. “Sounds fun.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Never a dull moment.” The song was coming to an end, and Joel slowed you to a stop. “What do you think? Another song?” You smiled and nodded, and Joel winked at you. “Think we can speed it up?”

“Maybe just a little? Not too much?”

He nodded. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t throw anything too complicated at you. We’re just getting started.”

Joel led you through a few more dances, and you felt more and more confident with each one. In the last one before you decided to take a break he even threw in a (successful) spin and dipped you a bit. You laughed, feeling breathless. He slowly pulled you back up, flush with his chest, and you found yourself staring into his eyes from just a few inches away. Without your conscious input your gaze dropped to his lips. He leaned in before you could and kissed you once, softly, before pulling back and resting his forehead against your own.

“I haven’t had that much fun dancing since I can remember, darlin’.”

You chuckled. “Even though I barely know what I’m doing?”

He shook his head and kissed you again, softly. “You picked it up pretty quick, you know. But it doesn’t matter, I’d rather dance with you than do something fancy. You wanna sit down for a bit?” You nodded, and he pulled away to lead you back to your table. You realized you’d almost started making out with Joel in the middle of the dance floor, but a quick look around revealed that no one was really paying attention to you since the band was still playing.

You noticed as you sat down that Joel had pulled his chair much closer to yours. You could have put your legs over his lap without needing to move any closer. His arm came down around you with his hand at your waist, so you leaned into him to talk. “How well do you know Frank?”

You felt his thumb start to move up and down against your side as he answered. “He’s closer with Tess, but I’ve known him for about 10 years now. Sarah loves him. She would have begged to come tonight if it wasn’t a date.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! Next time she should come.” It was out of your mouth before you thought about it, but you meant it, so you tried to look confident.

“Next time, hmm?” Joel smiled at you. “I like the sound of that.” He cleared his throat, and looked a bit hesitant. “You, uh, you would be ok with that?”

“With what, Joel?” You tilted your head as you considered him. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly hesitant, after being so confident on the dance floor.

“With Sarah, coming along with us.”

“Joel, of course! Sarah’s great, and besides, I want to date you. That means I want to get to know you. All of you. The whole package, you know? I’d love to get to know Sarah.” You felt suddenly hesitant yourself, even as you watched him relax, smile returning. “If that’s, well. If that’s alright with you. I don’t want to overstep.”

He shook his head. “No, darlin’, Sarah already likes you and I’d love for you two to get to know each other. And get to know your family, too. But I do want to take you on more dates. Just the two of us.”

You smiled. “Let’s do both, then. I’ll bring Ellie along sometime, too.” You leaned in and let your head rest against his shoulder, despite the slight discomfort of sitting so close in two wooden chairs. “I’m having a good time, Joel, I already know I’d love to do this again.”

You felt him rest his cheek against the top of your head and smiled into his shirt. He squeezed your side with the hand that had been playing idly with your waistband. “Honey, I’d love nothin’ more.”

You sat like that through a few more songs, enjoying the feeling of being under Joel’s arm. It felt like all of your attention was taken by the hand at your waist as his thumb moved slowly back and forth in a soft caress. You closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation and tried to focus on not letting yourself get all worked up in public.

After a while, the band announced a break, and you startled and sat up a bit. The dance floor was clearing out, and you turned and looked at Joel. He was looking at you.

“What do you think, Joel? Do you want to dance some more?”

He hummed in response before pulling you close again to murmur in your ear. “What do you think about taking this somewhere a little more quiet? Somewhere we can talk, maybe have another drink.”

You turned your head and found yourself with your lips just inches from his own. “Talk, huh?”

He smiled a bit sheepishly, but winked. “You call the shots here, darlin’.”

“Let’s stick around for one more dance, and then go get that drink. And then maybe head home.” He looked disappointed, and tried to hide it, but you raised your eyebrows at him with a smile and he straightened, surprised.

“Home?” He asked, with not a little hope. It made you grin.

“Well, I never said whose home. But we can figure it out.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed as he took in your teasing tone. “Honey, I’ll go anywhere you’d like.”

You wondered if implying you’d go home with him on the first date was too much, but you shrugged it off. You’d had lunch twice, anyway. That made this like a third date, right? You knew Joel was interested, and so were you. Clearly for more than one night. And you couldn’t stop thinking about his kiss in your office, and what it might have been like to not be interrupted. To hell with it.

“Well then, let’s go back to the dance floor, and then we can go get another drink somewhere, and then head home.” You paused and let it hold for a moment before smirking at him. “Together.” The smile that took over his face was your favorite one yet — wicked and wide.

“Baby, I like the way you think.” You eyed his smile and decided you needed to stand up before “home” became “the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison.” You shook your head and leaned back.

“Come on, you flirt.” You nudged him with your shoulder.

“You like the way I flirt.” He nudged you right back.

You sighed. “I really, really do, Joel.” Before you could go anywhere, though, Frank reappeared at the side of your table.

“Hello, lovebirds!” Joel groaned, but you smiled. “Told you I’d introduce my husband so I had to drag him over here. This is Bill.” Frank stepped to the side to reveal a man about his age or a little older with a beard and a stern face. You introduced yourself and noted that Bill might not have a smile for you, but he definitely had one for Frank. Bill nodded at Joel, who nodded back. Frank rolled his eyes. “These two would just sit in silence with the occasional grunts if I left them alone.” You laughed as Joel sighed and Bill just shrugged.

You chatted with the two of them for a couple of minutes before Frank had to go back on stage, and Bill headed back to his corner booth. You turned back to Joel and smiled. “I like them.” He nodded.

“They’re good people, even if Bill is a bit grumpy.”

“Hmm,” you tilted your head, considering his words.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” you grinned. You wondered how often Joel got told he and Bill were alike. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking and rolled his eyes before sighing and letting his head fall back.

“Not you, too, darlin’.”

“Look, I’m just saying, I see a resemblance.” You tried not to laugh. Joel tilted his head back down and looked at you through narrowed eyes.

“Now, honey, when have I ever been grumpy with you, hmm?” He leaned closer and lifted his hand to run his thumb lightly down your jawline. You bit your lip and he tugged gently with his thumb to release it.

“Maybe I’m just special,” you teased him.

“You are,” he responded, completely serious. You wanted to kiss him again, but before you could, he leaned back and stood, holding out his hand to you. “Now, I believe I was promised another dance.” You laughed and stood as well. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before leading you back onto the dance floor.

Frank’s band had just started up again, and they were playing a slower song. Joel pulled you into his arms again, with his left hand settling in the small of your back and his right holding your left. You let your right hand slide up his shoulder and brushed his neck with your fingertips. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline before murmuring, “follow me, darlin’.”

Joel led you into the step he’d taught you earlier, but held you closer while he did it. You found yourself with your head resting on his shoulder as he smoothly guided you around your corner of the dance floor. You let your eyes fall closed and sank into his embrace, trusting your memory of the simple step and Joel’s skills to keep you steady.

He was warm, and broad. Whatever aftershave or cologne or maybe even soap he’d used smelled delicious, and you nuzzled into his neck before you realized what you were doing. He hummed and pulled you even closer. “I like dancin’ with you, honey.”

You could feel his voice rumble in his chest and it made you smile. You moved your head slightly to press a kiss against his neck. He turned his head towards you but you didn’t pull back. “Me too, Joel.”

Your arm had crept around the back of his neck, and you realized he had slowed your steps to almost just swaying in place. You were pressed against him and the awareness of his body against yours rushed through you. The knowledge that you were in public on a dance floor struck you, but all you wanted was to get as close to Joel as possible. Your breath hitched, and you felt Joel take a deep breath in response. He shifted so his right leg nudged between yours, and you closed your eyes at the sweeping feeling in your stomach — he wasn’t quite touching you there, but the suggestion was enough to send heat tingling up your spine. Almost against your will your hips moved just a little bit closer to his own. You both froze.

Suddenly he tightened his grip around your waist and spun you both around, causing you to fall into him more. “Joel!” You pulled back and found him grinning at you. The look in his eye told you he was right there with you, but you both knew you were still in public. He released your waist and spun you away from him before pulling you back in right as the music picked up.

“What do you think, gorgeous? One more dance?” You nodded, breathless. As he led you once more around your corner of the dance floor, your eyes stayed locked on his. You felt like you were in a whirlwind, but all you could see was Joel. As you danced, it was like the two of you were completely in sync — he moved his leg, and you mirrored the movement. He tightened his grip around your waist to turn you, and you followed like it was easier than breathing. Neither of you spoke as you moved together but it felt like the connection between you grew taut. You felt it pull at you, pull you closer to Joel, draw you towards him like a hook caught behind your heart.

When the music stopped, the two of you did as well, and neither of you moved as the band started to play another song. Joel was looking into your eyes, face intent. He pulled you closer and let go of your left hand, placing his right softly along your jaw. He tilted your head up towards his and pulled you into a soft kiss.

“I could dance with you all night, gorgeous.” He spoke with his lips barely an inch from your own.

You kissed him again. “Me too, Joel.”

He smiled and used his hand to tilt your face to the side so he could kiss your neck lightly, just in front of your ear. “Should we keep dancin’, baby? Or should we go get that drink?” He punctuated his question with a kiss to the corner of your jaw, and then your cheek, and then your mouth, lingering there. It took you a moment to open your eyes again when he pulled away, and you found him looking at you with so much emotion that it took your breath away.

“Let’s get going, cowboy.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Cowboy, hmm?”

You shrugged. “Just trying it out, like I said. Take me for a ride, cowboy.”

Joel grinned, wickedly. “Baby, it would be my pleasure.” As he said it he steered you back to your table. He quickly paid your tab — leaving a nice tip, you noticed — and then turned to usher you out the door. You watched as he waved at Frank, who nodded, and Bill, who tipped his glass towards the two of you, and then he took your hand to lead you outside.

As you stepped on to the sidewalk, Joel turned to the right to head to the corner of the block. “There’s a little tiny place right around the corner that has some of the best mixed drinks I’ve ever had,” he told you.

You perked up. “Oh, you mean Marlene’s?”

He smiled. “That’s the one. I take it you’ve been?”

You nodded, but added, “I have, but I love it. I think that’s the perfect place to go next.” He squeezed your hand and led you around the corner.

Marlene’s had a narrow facade — the inside was long, but the width of the whole place was only enough for tables along one wall and the long bar along the other, until you got to the back and it opened up a bit with some larger tables and couches. It was cozy, with string lights and art all over the walls. Marlene’s was known for the cocktail menu, which featured a rotating list of hard-to-source alcohols and interesting mixers, as well as the non-alcoholic options that still tasted amazing. You and Beth often ended up here if you went out for after-work drinks.

When you stepped inside it was a bit busy, but not so busy that you couldn’t find a table. There was one open in the back in a corner, actually one of your favorites — it was like a tiny round booth, with only enough room for two or three people. It had higher sides on the front like it was from an old saloon, so once you were inside it felt like a cozy nook. It was a bit awkward to get in and out of, though. You wondered where Marlene had found it.

You sat while Joel headed back to the bar to get your drinks — he’d mentioned getting one of the non-alcoholic ones since he would be driving you home, so you asked for the same. He was back quickly and soon the two of you were snuggled into the booth. He had his left arm around your shoulders, and your legs were draped over his left knee as you turned towards him in the small booth.

“Come here often, gorgeous?” He winked at you as he took a sip of his drink.

“Beth and I do, sometimes. I’ve always liked it.”

He nodded. “Me too. Tess and Frank love it. And Tommy, though he usually prefers the Bison.” You smiled. You were really looking forward to meeting Tommy, eventually.

“So, Joel.” The more official tone you put on had him straightening his shoulders and you tried not to grin. “You’ve told me a bit about you — I know about Sarah, obviously, and now I know your whole — large? — family dances. I know you like live music and plaid shirts.” He smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “And I know the way you kiss knocks the breath right out of me.” His eyebrows raised and he leaned forward a bit, but you placed a hand on his chest and laughed. “Slow down, cowboy. I have some questions.”

“Ah, darlin’—” he started, but you interrupted.

“Nothing bad, Joel. I just want to learn more about you. I want to, well,” your tone shifted and became more hesitant, but he watched you intently all the same. “I want to know you.”

Joel lifted his right hand and cupped your cheek, gently pulling you forward into a soft kiss. “I want to know you too, honey.” He cleared his throat as he sat back, letting his right hand fall to hold your left in your lap. “Alright, then. Shoot. What do you want to know?”

“Hmmm,” you tapped the fingers of the hand he wasn’t holding against your chin in thought. “Alright, let’s start simple. And I’ll answer the same questions I ask you, ok? And you should ask some, whatever you want.” He smiled and nodded. “Ok. What’s your favorite color?”

Joel laughed and shook his head. “Well, I do like green, but Sarah says it’s blue, on account of how much of it I wear.”

You smiled. “Those can be different things, you know. My favorite color isn’t the one I wear most often.”

He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and hummed. “My turn? Ok, where are you from, darlin’?”

The two of you traded questions back and forth. Sometimes you got distracted — Joel mentioned being from a small town outside of Austin, and the two of you compared your hometowns for a while. Then Joel mentioned one of Tommy’s shenanigans from when they were kids, and the story had you laughing so hard you fell against Joel’s chest (but he caught you with both arms wrapped around your waist).

You touched a bit on more serious topics, but didn’t get into too much detail. Sarah’s mom wasn’t around, but he said he’d tell you the whole story another time. You nodded. You said your sister, Ellie’s mom, had gone through a rough time a few years back, and Ellie had stayed with you for a while. That’s why Ellie was still with you so often. Your sister was doing better but she worked most weekends and a lot of nights. He nodded, understanding. You both quickly changed the subject. You had time, after all.

Joel told you about his summer vacation with Sarah and Tommy, which featured hiking and time at the beach and ended with the three of them a bit sun worn but relaxed and happy. He told you Sarah had requested visiting a city next time, though, and you laughed and told him about Ellie’s inner gremlin and her love of camping.

Before you knew it, an hour had passed, and you felt like you knew so much more about the man in front of you. You knew his favorite color (“it’s green!” You insisted, “you said so!”), his favorite breakfast food (migas, but only how his grandma made it), how he took his coffee (black), a few of the trials and tribulations of Tommy Miller, Sarah’s soccer highlights, more about what she was doing in school (and how much she (and Joel and Tommy) hated her biology teacher), a bit more about the large extended family that liked to dance, and finally, Joel’s dream career when he was a kid (musician).

“Wait, really? A singer?” He ducked his head, looking embarrassed, but nodded. “Joel, hey,” you reached out to tilt his chin back up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not making fun. That’s amazing. I’d love to hear you sing.” You were leaning close as you said it, almost fully sitting in his lap at this point. He studied you, a serious look on his face.

“I’ll sing for you whenever you want, gorgeous.” His voice was deeper than it had been even a moment before, and you took a deep breath.

“Yeah?” He nodded. “Bet you were really something, playing shows. Young Joel Miller with a guitar? God, how many women did you sweep off their feet?” You grinned at him, teasing.

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Not as many as you’d think.”

“Oh come on, Joel, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He laughed. “Darlin’, I thought you had a crush on me now.”

You rolled your eyes. “That is neither here nor there, Joel Miller. Ugh, I can almost picture it. Wait, do you have any pictures?” You knew you looked excited and tried to tame it a bit, but he smiled and laughed.

“I do, but uh, I might also have a recording.”

“What! I have to see it. Please?”

He studied you again, looking over your wide eyes and pleading smile. “Hmm on the first date?” His voice was teasing, and he pinched your side lightly, making you squirm. “Don’t you think that’s more of a second date activity?” You bit your lip, considering your next words. But you had no reason to doubt yourself, or him. You were pretty sure you were on the same page, here.

“You know, technically, we have had a couple of lunch dates.” He huffed a laugh. “But what about a morning-after activity?” You said it teasingly, but also a little breathlessly. You were sitting so close that you got to watch his reaction take over his face and it mesmerized you. His brows rose as his eyes darkened, and he gave you that wicked half smile that made you melt.

“Well, now,” he started, and his voice was deep. You felt it rumbling in his chest where your hands rested lightly against his shirt. “I reckon you’ll just have to come over and find out.” He used his left arm to pull you up so you were finally sitting fully across his lap. You met his eye and licked across your bottom lip. His own gaze dropped from yours to track the path of your tongue.

“I reckon I will, then,” you agreed. You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he squeezed your side with his left hand and brought his right up to brush his fingertips down your neck. “Can’t miss my chance to hear you sing.”

He shook his head. “Honey, I told you, I’ll sing for you whenever you want.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and your breath hitched. “I’d sing for you right now, if you wanted.” He pressed another kiss to your chin, and then under your jaw. You tilted your head up to give him better access. “I don’t think you realize how much I’d do for you, if you asked.” You thought of your maintenance requests, and the plants, and the coffees, and thought maybe you did have some idea.

“Joel,” you whispered, and he hummed in response. “Sing me something.” You tried to make it sound like a teasing demand, but it came out more like a plea.

He nipped your neck. “Anything, honey, or you got something in mind?”

“Whatever you want to sing to me, Joel, that’s what I want to hear.”

He pulled back suddenly and moved his hands to rearrange you on his lap. You found yourself with your back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on top of his. “Close your eyes, gorgeous.” You let your head fall back over his shoulder as you did as he asked.

He hummed, and moved his right hand to your thigh, where he squeezed gently. You squirmed a little in his lap and he chuckled, holding you still with his left arm around your waist. “Shh, honey, just get comfortable. Right here.”

You let yourself sink into his touch, wondering what he would sing for you. He nuzzled against your neck, maybe still deciding, and your legs fell open a bit further without your conscious input. You bit your lip and he kissed your neck as his right hand moved to grip the inside of your thigh. And then he started to sing.

“Take me now, baby, here as I am Hold me close, try and understand Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe Love is a banquet on which we feed”

You gasped at the first word. Joel’s singing voice was beautiful. It was deep and warm and a little gravely. Even as quiet as he was singing you felt like it was lifting you up, floating through the air around you.

“Come on now try and understand The way I feel when I'm in your hands Take my hand, come undercover”

Joel hummed, maybe the next part of the song. You realized you were holding his left arm in a tight grip and tried to relax your hands. He squeezed the inside of your right thigh reassuringly, and you noticed how high his hand had drifted while he sang. You shifted your weight and let your left leg fall further to the side. His hand inched higher.

“Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us”

You knew this song, but hearing Joel sing it was an entirely new experience. You could hardly think about anything but where he was touching you — everywhere — and feel his voice washing over you. Your senses were filled with nothing but him.

He let the last word of the chorus fade, and you came back to yourself only to realize you had started breathing faster, chest heaving with it. “You alright there, darlin’?” His low voice had intrigued you before but now it reminded you of his singing and your breath stuttered in your chest.

“Yes, Joel, I—”

“You sure?” As he asked again, he slid his hand just a bit higher on your thigh so that his thumb rested right in the inside crease of your hip. He wasn’t quite touching you there, not really, but his proximity drew your sudden attention to how wet you were. You were soaked, just from listening to him sing. Fuck. You squirmed on his lap, but your motion accidentally drew him closer to you, and the side of his thumb brushed against the seam of your pants, right over your core. You gasped, and belatedly realized he had had the same reaction.

“Oh, honey,” his thumb pressed down, just a little bit, just enough to make you thrust your hips forward without thinking about it. He held you in place with his left arm while running a line of kisses up your neck to your ear. “You’re soaked, honey. I can feel you, right through these pants. Jesus, you must be so fucking wet. And all for me? Goddamn,” he sounded delighted at the prospect. He pressed down again with his thumb, and the noise that came out of you could only be described as a whimper.

“Shh, don’t worry, honey. I’ll take good care of you.” He whispered in your ear as his hand crept closer to displacing his thumb. You couldn’t catch your breath. “Give you everything you want, sweetheart. Everything.” He emphasized the last word with a sudden grip to your pussy, his whole hand moving over the seam of your pants and cupping you firmly. But in a flash, his hand was gone again, and you were left reeling, breathing hard, eyes flying open.

“Shit,” you whispered, with the belated realizations that you were still at Marlene’s fucking bar, in a booth where technically people could see you. You glanced around, but the high walls of the booth protected you, and Joel had pulled you both to the side, so you were facing away from the room on his lap. Smart.

Joel didn’t respond, and you whipped around to look at him. The hesitant look on his face told you he’d misunderstood your curse. You cursed again. “Fuck, Joel. Get me out of here.” He twitched, but didn’t move. “Joel, you need to take me home. Right now.” You were aroused and sweaty and in public and one of those things was in your power to change right at his moment. You cupped his face in your hands, still breathing hard, but you softened your voice. “Take me home, Joel, together. I want to go home with you.” He finally smiled again, reassured, and nodded. He started to maneuver both of you out of the tiny booth.

“Well come on then, honey, we got places to be.” Before you knew it he was leading you by the hand out the door, and you barely had a minute to wonder if anyone inside Marlene’s could tell you’d just almost gotten off in that booth back there. Oh well.

Joel was walking fast, and you tugged on his arm to slow him down a bit. “Joel, hey, wait,” he stopped abruptly and turned to look at you, and you saw everything you were feeling painted across his face. You blinked and gathered yourself to keep from kissing him. “I didn’t get a chance to say, Joel, fuck, your voice.” He smiled at you and tugged you closer. “You’re so good. Do you ever– do you ever sing, anymore?”

He shrugged, a bit sadly. “Just for Sarah, really. And now you.” You squeezed his hand.

“Well, I loved it, so please, sing for me whenever you’d like.” He nodded, looking a bit bashful. “But, ah, maybe we try that again somewhere a little more private, next time.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, stiffly. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to hold me like that, and sing to me like that, I might need a little privacy.” You bit your lip as he stepped closer and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Honey, if you want me to play with your pussy while I sing to you, you only have to ask.” You gasped. When he pulled back he was grinning wickedly, and you laughed.

“You better keep that promise, Joel Miller.” He swooped in to kiss you again quickly, before pulling back to lead you down the street.

“Baby, I always keep my promises. Especially promises like that one.” He winked.

After you crossed the street, Joel turned and took both of your hands in his. “I just want to ask again, darlin’, I don’t want to assume anything.”

You considered him and smiled. “My answer is yes, Joel.” He shook his head and laughed, lowly.

“Humor me. Say it again?” You untangled your right hand from his and lifted it to cup his cheek. You smoothed your thumb along his cheekbone and he turned to kiss your palm.

“Yes, Joel. I want to go home with you. I’ve got a video to watch in the morning, after all.” He grinned into your hand and bit it lightly. You gasped and laughed as he reached out to pull you into another kiss.

“Let’s get out of here, gorgeous.”

…

you (10:42 PM): going home with Joel 😳

bestie (10:43 PM): GET IT!!! (10:43 PM): 🍆 (10:43 PM): and send me his address

you (10:44 PM): 🫡

...

a/n: see you next Friday when we finally earn that explicit rating (aka, the smut arrives) 😌😏

These are the covers of Because the Night (the song Joel sings) that inspired me: Bruce cover | Bruce live | 10,000 Maniacs cover live | and the OG prev | next

tag list: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #x reader #tlou fic #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

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askdeoxys · 9 months

Text

Community PSA

[ This is only part of the full PSA (including evidence) which you can find here ]

Content Warnings

Grooming, Victim blaming, Harassment, Sexual abuse, Suicide / Self-harm mention, Emotional / Mental abuse mention

Introduction

Some of you may know about the PSA that circulated a few months ago regarding The-House-of-Hemingway’s relationship and unacceptable sexual interactions with someone who was a minor. Hemingway now goes by C-a-l-y-p-s-o. This post will discuss the details of the PSA, as well as this user’s concerning past and present behavior.

To the best of the ability of those responsible for this document, the username will continually be updated so that this person cannot interact with members of this community again without disclosing who they are, regardless if the interaction is safe-for-work or not.

The following post is intended to bring awareness to someone who is

Confirmed to be a groomer.

Attempting to convince members of the pokeask community that they have “changed” but is clearly trying to win favor with you.

A risk to the community, cannot be safely trusted, and needs to exit community spaces.

Disclaimers

Harassment of Calypso in any form is unacceptable behavior. The purpose of this post is to inform. This is not a call for hostile action beyond a block on every social media possible.

Please respect the victim’s boundaries and do not badger them for further details than what has been disclosed. While disagreement and discussion is OK, please keep your comments outside of tumblr and public discord servers.

If harassment occurs, the names of any individuals who dogpile, send death threats to, or doxx those involved with this situation will also be listed (with concrete evidence only) on this document.

TL;DR

Tumblr user @C-a-l-y-p-s-o, previously known as the mod behind the pokeask blog “house-of-hemingway,” is a confirmed groomer who has deleted their admission of guilt to save face.

Calypso has violated a boundary that is expected between a victim and an abuser by leveraging themselves into positions of authority (server moderators, event leaders, etc.)

Calypso has broken promises made to their peers over the course of their internet presence, changing names and website profiles/identities in order to escape the responsibility for their actions.

Calypso is attempting to fall back into good graces by sending copy-pasted positivity asks on mundays to sweep their notoriety under the rug.

This document will contain proof of the above in exhaustive detail under the “readmore”, or if you are viewing this in the public google document form, it will be under the resources.

We are using this as an opportunity to take a firm stance against grooming in the community, and to express our support for survivors. Our goal is to address the circumstances under which it happens with preventive guidelines and trauma-informed resources.

Resources & Education

What does grooming look like? A quick guide written by survivors of abuse within the Pokeask community:

The adult may not approach you with the intention of grooming you.

The objective of grooming is for an adult to turn their bond with a minor into a transactional relationship; circumstances in which the minor is providing something for them— whether that be emotional support or sexual gratification— and normalizes breaking boundaries to do so.

Though they may not realize they are blurring or overstepping your boundaries, the effect is still the same; they are desensitizing you to unfair and inappropriate treatment.

Many adults deal with mental illness, go through hard times, and struggle with loneliness. If you’re acquaintances or friends, you naturally might want to support them, “fix” their problems, or do them favors because they’ve been nice to you or because they’re not being malicious.

But ultimately, prioritizing their wellbeing compromises your own, well-meaning or not. That is what an imbalanced power dynamic looks like, and it is up to the adult to realize this, acknowledge it, and seek out other outlets, resources, people, and help available to them.

A responsible adult does not take advantage of your availability when given the opportunity to do so over other appropriate choices, no matter what.

The adult may expect you to be available at all times.

Guilt-tripping when you do not respond to their messages, spamming your DMs, or demanding that you spend most of your online time with them.

Making time for them might mean you end up spending less time with your friends and become distant from others in your social circle.

A red flag to look for is if they call you their “best / closest friend” over other adult relationships in their life.

The adult may put the burden of their mental health or well-being on you.

This can include constant venting / oversharing, validation seeking, or coming to you when they are in a mental health crisis. This can happen in private dms or in public servers.

Remember, no one individual is responsible for managing a loved one’s mental health, and it is not OK to expect a teenager to intervene when someone is threatening suicide or self-harm. That is for a trained professional to handle.

The adult may invite you into unmoderated spaces with other adults.

They might have “lighthearted” conversations with you or in front of you about sexual content, flirt with you, share explicit images / memes where you can see them, ask to role-play erotic scenarios with your ocs, or draw NSFW / suggestive art of your ocs / sona.

Red flags to look for are adults telling you that you are mature for your age, asking you to keep their interactions with you a secret, or interacting inappropriately with you in voice call so that there is no chat log of what they’ve said.

You do not owe your followers or fans your attention if you feel uncomfortable.

A friendship between two artists or between you and a fan of your work should not involve any pressure to reciprocate gift art, respond to asks, or role-play.

If someone crosses your boundaries based on a perceived parasocial relationship with you, or makes you feel guilty for not interacting with them, you are in your full right to block them.

If you suspect an ask is a covert fetish, such as asking you to draw an overly specific subject or situation, report them to an adult in the community.

Similarly, if someone you are a fan of is crossing your boundaries, take a step back to evaluate whether you would be OK with it if they were not someone you admire.

Just because someone is popular, skilled at art, widely respected, or well-liked does not give them the right to treat you in the ways listed above.

Listen to your gut; if you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, but are doubting your feelings because you look up to the person you’re interacting with, take a step back and tell someone you trust. No friendship is worth being treated this way.

If you suspect you were groomed in the past, or are wondering if a relationship you have with an adult is inappropriate, please look through the information linked in this section. Hotlines, counseling and self-help resources for survivors are listed here as well.

List of Hotlines by Country | 1, 2

Global Online Image (CSAM) Removal | 1, 2

Education & Resources | UK, CA, AUS, US (eng, esp)

Online Image Removal | UK, CA, AUS

LGBT+ Specific | UK, CA, AUS, US

BIPOC Specific | UK, CA, AUS, US

United Kingdom

Crisis Support & Counseling (Email, Phone, Text, Video Call; Eng & BSL)

Canada

Counseling (Phone, Text; Eng, Fr, Indigenous languages, Other languages, ASL)

Crisis Support (Phone; First Nations responders available)

Australia

Crisis Support & Counseling (Phone, Text, Other; Several languages available; Aboriginal responders available; Auslan)

United States

Crisis Support & Counseling (Phone, Text, Other; Several languages available; Indigenous responders available; ASL)

About the bill to pressure American corporations to remove reported CSAM from their websites

Coming forward about abuse can be re-traumatizing and difficult, but it can also be healing and liberating— It allows for a survivor to be in charge of their narrative and to lead the conversation surrounding their trauma.

Sometimes, it takes years to recognize trauma or past abuse, let alone to be ready to publicly talk about it. It is validating to finally be able to say, “This happened to me. I survived it. I deserved better.” to the world.

Trauma follows us for a long time. No matter how much time has passed, a victim has the right to disclose their abuse and hold their abuser accountable. It is our responsibility to listen. https://metoomvmt.org/

Full PSA with evidence continued here...

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 1 month

Text

Anniversary

Kishibe x Reader smut. 18+ only MDNI. AO3

7.5k words

You and Kishibe have been hooking up casually for a long time now. A year, exactly. You don't realize it, but he does. When he invites you over tonight, you start to get the feeling he has something else on his mind.

Content Includes: penetrative sex, oral sex, (he eats it from the back because I said so), uncomfortable conversations about the nature of relationships, choking, smoking, spanking, orgasm denial. it's nasty, hot, and wet idk what else to say. Kishibe may be OOC but i think hes more of a romantic than people think

It started so casually. You had been at the bar, too focused on the book sat open in front of you to see him moving to the seat one away from yours. Not that you would have minded, the reason you had come to the bar to read in the first place was to avoid being bored out of your mind at home. He opened the conversation, asking what you had to drink and if you wanted another. His intentions were clear from the jump, that’s what Kishibe was like: direct. He never seemed to have interest in ambiguous flirting. He spoke to you clearly and asked questions with easy answers. Even answered a few of your own. That night when he invited you to his place after last call. The sex had been excellent; he was focused and skilled, rough and passionate enough to keep you cumming over and over, but it wasn’t intimate, you could both feel the veil between the two of you. You hadn’t expected to see him again when you finally broke out of the post coital haze and back into your jeans and shoes.

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay the night if you want.” He offered, sitting up against the headboard, a cigarette bouncing lightly between his lips as he spoke. A small burgundy bruise was beginning to form at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, your handiwork, you likely had a few of your own.

You finished lacing up your final shoe and stood to grab your bag, “That’s okay, I’ve got an early morning. Thanks for this.” You knew it sounded like a cliche, but you really did have an early start to your day. Even as the words exited your kiss bitten lips, you felt the dread of tomorrow’s workload creeping up on you.

Kishibe left the bed, sheets still rumpled from rolling around together. He stood before you, still naked, and crossed the room to you. You expected he was getting up simply to lock the door behind you after you left. To your surprise, he took your face in his large hands and kissed you. Not the teeth clashing, tongue tangling kiss of before, but a romantic goodnight kiss.

“Be careful getting home.” He said, still holding your face, he released you and let his arms fall to his sides, “if I see you at the bar again, think I could bring you back here?”

“I’d like that.” you were still a lot shocked by the kiss.

You left him that night, and found yourself frequenting that bar more and more. He did find you again, and again, and again. You’d drink together, talk for an hour or so before he would invite you to join him back to his place. Eventually you did start to spend the night, but only on nights when your sessions of pleasure had extended later than was safe to walk home. After the fourth or fifth time you had invited him to your apartment, saying your place was actually a lot closer than his (it was barely a four block difference, just in the other direction). He had slept in your bed, or tried to, smoked on your patio, even showered at your place once or twice if he was running late or met you afterwork and was still grimy.

Kishibe was not your boyfriend. You were not his girlfriend. You didn’t go out together, the only time you could be seen out together was meeting at the bar and sitting side by side before leaving to one of your homes. More and more often you two would cut out the pageantry of meeting elsewhere and meet up directly at the home of whoever made the call. You knew he worked at Public Safety (the uniform and overall demeanor gave him away), and he knew the rough outline of your job. You didn’t have any complaints, you didn’t think he did either. He was a good fuck and a nice man, you got the sense he wasn’t really that nice of a man, but he was always nice to you. Ample orgasms, warm body to sleep next to, good conversationalist, if a bit reserved. You would often go weeks without seeing each other, before he would call you, voice already dripping whiskey through your phone’s receiver. Or you would call, too much on your mind, body begging for the clarity you’d get after the three or four orgasms he would give you.

So tonight, when he called and asked you to meet him at a hotel, you were surprised. Of course you still agreed, changing quickly into underwear you felt sexier in than your laying around the house set, refreshing your hair, and packing a small overnight bag with a change of clothes and some toiletries. It wasn’t until you were standing outside the room number he told you over the phone, in a much nicer hotel than you had expected, that the peculiarity of the situation really started to press on you. Suddenly your jeans and sweater felt sloppy, you wondered why he hadn’t just asked you to meet him at his place. One knock was all that was needed for him to swing the door wide, tie already removed, too few buttons undone on his work shirt, jacket missing. It was rare to see him smile, but here he was, scar crinkling and lips wide. You blinked in surprise at his quick welcome.

“Hey kid,” he said, his smile easing down as he moved to the side allowing you to step into the lavish suite.

“Hey.” You stepped inside, you didn’t hate the nickname, you were 20 years younger than him (give or take). In fact, something about it ignited a pulse inside of you that you didn’t care to examine that thoroughly.

The suite was large, a sitting room with a patterned couch and coffee table comprised the main area, a door behind led to the bedroom, you assumed, and the bathroom was by the entrance. Even just on a side peek, you could see a large bathtub inside. The wall furthest from you was mostly glass, which appeared to let out onto a balcony, overlooking the city. Kishibe had drawn the curtains mostly out of the way, dark fabric fluttering in the window from the open sliding door. You’re sure your face betrayed your awe.

“Don’t get used to this, alright?,” his breath was hot on the back of your ear, head moved right behind you, one of his hands slipped your bag off of your shoulder, “I got an extension on a job, and they put me up in here.” He set your bag down next to the coffee table, you turned to face him, still trepidacious.

“So you called me?”

“Yeah. Seemed like a waste to be here all by myself. You like it?”

You took another look around the suite before nodding. This was by far the nicest hotel you had ever stayed in, used to mid range single rooms and crappy motels.

“Why me?” You don’t even really know what you meant by the question, if it was only about the hotel, or if maybe this was a large inquiry about the nature of your relationship with him.

He laughed, “Come on, kid, it’s not a proposal. I just like having you around. That so hard to believe?”

He pulled a cigarette from his pack, holding it between his lips before gesturing to the patio behind you, “want a smoke?”

You did. You needed something to ground your swimming head. You stay stiffly on the rattan patio set smoking your cigarette carefully, not wanting any ash to sully the pristine terrace. In juxtaposition Kishibe seemed completely relaxed, long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against the back of his chair, not caring where his ash may fall. A small ashtray sits on the table between you, the summer night air is thick and sticky, if it weren’t for the soft breeze from being so high up, you would be shedding your top layer already.

“Relax.” Kishibe exhales the result of a long drag.

You do. Your shoulders loosen, your spine releases, muscles softening. You take a drag and allow the tobacco and nicotine to soothe your racing thoughts. He looks so good languidly smoking and watching you. He catches you staring and pats his leg, a practiced move you have come to recognize easily. You stand and move to sit on his lap. Immediately he wraps one strong arm around you to support your back. Your own find a home around the back of his neck. His hand moved up and down your back soothingly.

“I didn’t know you were so inflexible.” He teases.

“Excuse me?” you laugh lightly at him preparing to joke about him knowing how flexible you really could be.

“Didn’t think a change of scenery would rattle you so much.” his hand on your back sneaks under your top to trace lazy circles on your skin, you feel your body immediately relax under his touch, “You’re never this quiet.” his lips were right against your neck as he spoke, starting to trail hot kisses along the column of your throat.

You could already feel yourself fighting the urge to rock your hips in his lap, getting wetter from his touches, the buzz in your head of nicotine adding to the haze of pleasure. You moved a hand from his neck down to the front of his shirt, undoing buttons and sliding your hand inside to touch the hair along his chest. His hand on your back traveled down to cup your clothed ass, your head tilted back allowing him better access to your neck and you could no longer keep your hips from rocking against his lap.

“Guess it was foolish of me to think you’d like something special for our anniversary.”

Every cell in your body stopped suddenly. Hips stilled, hands immobilized, moans halted despite Kishibe continuing his migration across your throat. You started to push him away, but before you could stand he gripped you tighter.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” His tone was joking, no, teasing. Was he fucking with you?

Mentally you flipped through your calendar, it hadn’t been summer when you met him. It had been spring, right? It was warm, but not so warm, he had had his coat on. But then you remembered, it was summer. Last summer, exactly 365 days since he had taken you home that first time. He was right. You immediately felt guilty for falling short, but did you really need to? Why would he have even remembered a thing like that? What did dates and anniversaries mean when you weren’t together, when the only thing you did was fuck.

Was that all you did? Yes, right?

So what if he kept a copy of a book you lent him on his bedside table at his place, small scribbles on slips of paper tucked in between the pages? He wasn’t a very sound sleeper anyway, you just assumed he kept it there for a quick way to lull himself back to sleep on rougher nights. Sure you always made sure to grab an extra bottle of his preferred whiskey for your pantry in case he decided to stop by when you were unprepared. But that was just to save yourself or him a last minute trip to the liquor store. That wasn't a relationship, not even close. You hadn't discussed families or dreams or personal histories, at least not a length. The spare clothes you kept at his place were for convenience, you started smoking his brand of cigarettes when you had run out of your own and bummed one off of him, he started making coffee for you himself instead of walking to the convenience store to save money, not to extend his time with you in the mornings.--Oh my God.

You couldn’t stop yourself, suddenly every behavior became so loaded, carrying so much intimacy where there previously had been none. But there wasn't none, you just hadn’t paid close enough attention. He had never asked you to be his girlfriend, or even on a date. You didn’t even really eat together, sharing a coffee in the morning and drinks at night. Once or twice you had shared dinner or a late night snack, but never beakfast. Your mind raced examining and reexamining how you had gotten to this point with him, and if you were about to ruin it in your obliviousness.

Whether it was the sound of your pounding heartbeat or the fact that you had gone mute, Kishibe finally removed his lips from you, his dark eyes patiently scanning your face. He brought his cigarette to his lips and puffed, exhaling through the side of his mouth still waiting for a response from you.

“But…we’re not dating.” was all you could manage.

His head cocked slightly, brows twitching inward, you could tell he was amused by this whole situation-- whereas you were reeling “no we’re not, but it’s nice to celebrate milestones, isn’t it?”

He fished his flask out of his pants pocket, having to lift his hips, you on top of him, to do so. You knew how strong Kishibe was, you were intimately familiar with how easy it was for him to move you, throw you, fold you, however he wanted. Him arching into you brought his groin up to yours, you could feel him starting to get hard underneath his pants, you sitting on his lap often had this effect on him. Once he had retrieved his flask he held it up to you, you unscrewed it for him, allowing him to keep his other arm around your hips, once again starting to move under your shirt tipping his head back to drink.

“Kishi, we don’t have an anniversary to celebrate. We aren’t together.” You weren't even sure what point you were trying to get across, whether you were trying to offload the guilt you felt for potentially undervaluing something that could mean a lot to him or just trying to remind yourself and him that you two had never had a conversation about the nature of your relationship.

He was starting to be less amused, “You don’t feel like a year of good sex is worth celebrating? Guess it wasn’t as good as I thought. Although I don’t hear you complain, much.”

He tipped his flask toward you, punctuating his joke. Was he really messing around about this?

You nearly accepted, desperately wanting the whiskey inside to bring you back to your senses, but you shook your head, opting to press forward through the discomfort, “Of course it's good. But aren't anniversaries for people who ...I don’t know…belong to each other?”

You were a smart woman, educated, quick, employed well, you were fucking verbose but in this moment you couldnt string an articulate thought together for the life of you. Words felt jumbled, either too heavy for your casual situation or too dismissive of the ounce of vulnerability he was offering you. Did he mean for this to be the next step? Did he want you to be his girlfriend? Did you want that? How much would it really change? Before tonight everything had felt so simple, relationships were complicated and required patience and expectations, something you weren't sure either of you had time for. What if this was how this ended? What if you began to resent each other and you---

Kishibe tapped his fingers on your temple, “Get out of there. Come back.”

That had jostled you out of your spiral and back into your body, he was still so solid underneath you. Your silence does not seem to have scared him away yet. But he looked thoughtful, observant to your fluctuations, he was paying close attention to you, as though reading your thoughts as they were transcribed onto your forehead. He looked so sincere, eyes soft and warm, his usually furrowed and frustrated brows, relaxed.

“Belong to each other, huh? Look kid, I don’t usually keep up with one person this much. And forgive my assumption but, you don’t either. I like the nights we have together, I like the mornings too. You haven't told me about seeing anyone else, I don't mind if you have, but it certainly doesn't feel like you have been.” Even when he was being sincere he was a cheeky shit, “You don’t have to be my girl, if you don’t want to. Probably shouldn't be stuck with an old man like me, anyway. But I haven't just been wasting time with you the past year.”

Your heart surged, you hadn’t even realized it but you felt it too. Each encounter cracked through your barriers more and more. Even as recently as last week he had stayed at your apartment for two hours after waking up sipping coffee on your patio while you did the morning crossword. It was so domestic, you hadn’t clocked it then, as it was part of your routine. But that was exactly it, it was your routine and he had assimilated so seamlessly. How could you have been so blind?

“Kishi…” you brought your hands to the sides of his face, mirroring his first send off to you, “who knew you were such a romantic.”

His scruff was rough against your palms, and scratched lightly as his smile rose to his cheeks, “Whaddya say? I like belonging to you, you want to belong to me too?”

You couldn't deny you were nervous about what this establishment could change about your situation, but you want that so desperately. You had been on your own for so long, you couldn't remember the last relationship you had had. You were out of practice, but so was he, maybe you could figure it out together.

“I guess happy anniversary.” You smiled leaning down to him and pressing your lips together.

The hand he had kept on your back pulled you close to his chest, his other hand had abandoned his flask and now gripped your thigh. His mouth tasted so familiar, smoke and alcohol with the undernote of his mouthwash. You were so used to his taste, you rarely even noticed anymore, but with the new perspective this conversation had given you, you reacquainted yourself with what you had been taking for granted. Kishibe has always been a good kisser, directing your mouth against his, lips soft and warm, tongue agile and skilled against yours. What you hadn't realized before was that Kishibe may be the best kisser you had ever known. His teeth seemed to disappear, allowing your tongue ample room to explore his mouth. He knew just when to suck lightly on your bottom lip, when to allow you a quick breath while keeping you breathless against him. His hands wandered freely, one now tangling in the hair at the back of your head as the other slid down the back of your pants to grip the flesh of your ass. The feeling of his calloused hands on your body ignited your nervous system, you felt effervescent. Like champagne just before being popped, fizzy and sparkly. You were panting against him now, pulling away to shift your legs to straddle him in his chair which could just barely fit the pair of you. Your hands cupped his face, rounded his neck, mussed though his hair. You wanted to touch every part of him, feel how new he felt in the wake of your shared confession. Your hips rocked together, he was getting hard again, you could feel him right up against your core. You must have been radiating heat, the way he shuttered.

“If I knew this is how you’d respond, I’d have asked you to be my woman a long time ago.” Kishibe slid his tongue into your mouth again, now running his hands up and down from the small of your back, to the back of your neck.

His woman, His. When was the last time you had even entertained the idea of belonging to someone. You were filled with excitement, feeling yourself start to drip into your panties at his possessive words. You started to finish your earlier job of unbuttoning his shirt. Kishibe had an incredible body, caveat of age sure, but also for anyone. Strong muscles built over years, decades, of careful cultivation. He wasn't a cut as maybe he once had been, but the muscles in his abdomen were still clearly visible. Scars littered his whole body, obviously the most apparent being the slash from lip to ear you had felt against your own lips many times, but his torso and back resembled a spider's web, pale lines crossing and crisscrossing, so much pain embedded just under his skin. You found your eyes began to sting with unexpected tears as you beheld him. Breaking the kiss and allowing your hands and eyes to scan over the topography of his body. This was from your first time seeing him shirtless, you had observed his scars while laying together in bed, or in the mornings when he hadn’t yet gotten dressed for work. You wondered about each one, what sort of devil (or man) had marred him, leaving him with another etching.

“Don’t start getting sentimental over me,” Kishibe slid his hands down your waist, once again knowing exactly what you were thinking looking at him, “I’m not gone yet. You can mourn me later.”

His dark humor usually lightened you, but this one held a specific truth that you had not yet acknowledged. He was a devil hunter, he fought for his own life near daily. You didn’t know a lot about devils or devil hunting, but you knew it was rare for devil hunters to have survived so long without retiring. There was a very real chance that he could die on you, leaving you heartbroken and alone. But you were too far gone now, you didn’t know how this would end either in tragedy and heartbreak or something more hopeful, but you couldn’t control that now. You could only celebrate being here with him now.

“That’s your big plan, huh? Get me all obsessed with you just so you can leave someone behind to cry at your funeral?”, you wanted to tease him back, meeting him on his own morbid level.

He sat up pulling your chest flush against his, “Awe, you’d cry for me?”

“You’re sick.” you giggled kissing him again.

“Mmmmhm” he mumbled against your lips, finally gripping you tightly to him and standing, his inhuman strength making your full form nothing for him to carry easily.

Kishibe carried you inside, lips still against yours and brought you into the bedroom you had speculated about earlier. “Switch on the wall, hit it for me” he instructed through desperate kisses.

Your hand flew out quickly groping the wall by the door frame before finding the rocker switch and pushing the top half, illuminating the space. Kishibe always wanted the lights on, wanting to see you come undone underneath him, see your body writhe and flush under his tongue, his fingers, anything. He had to see you to know it was real. He laid you down on the bed, the duvet was plush and sank lightly under you. This really was a nice hotel. The bed was big with a mattress that perfectly combined support with a soft spongy bounce. You moved back toward the center of the bed, enjoying the luxury as Kishibe stood at the foot of the bed, removing his shirt and pants. You shed your own top and wiggled out of your pants, leaving your bra and underwear. Kishibe liked taking them off himself.

Standing at his full height in front of you, nearly six foot and five inches wearing only his boxers, your heart began to race. The way he looked down at you, with hungry eyes, pupils dilated in lust, lips parted already breathing heavily. He was already leaking against his boxers, a wet spot forming in the dark fabric.

He palmed himself, taking you in, resting on your elbows in barely anything. You had worn his favorite bra of yours, a sheer black underwire unpadded bra, so simple but so classic, he could see your nipples hardening through the material. Your panties matched, barely held together with the thin material, he could tell you had chosen this specifically for him. You had. You knew he liked you in black, and just barely covered. Desperate under his gaze, you moved forward to sit with your knees underneath you. Putting on a little show of crawling toward him, your position on the bed brings you much closer to eye level with him. Locking eyes you moved your hands down the expanse of his shoulders, he was so broad. His muscles twitched under your soft hands, a small groan leaving his lips, Kishibe tended to be quieter than you had expected. Dirty talk was one thing, but allowing himself to moan freely was difficult for him, it felt too vulnerable, too weak somehow. But this was different, things had changed, vulnerability was already present, he had already put himself out there to be rejected and hadn’t been. He felt lighter under your hands, in your gaze. An ever wandering hand of his found its way into your hair, pulling you into another deep kiss.

“Love that pretty mouth,” he spoke hot against your lips, “show me how talented you are.”

Your anxiety was shed at his instruction. This was how it had always been with him, he told you just what he wanted and expected you to do the same. Your kisses moved down the his throat, lips becoming raw against the rough texture of his stubble. You liked dragging this part out. Just before giving him what he craved, seeing how far you could push him towards begging. Of course he never did, and likely never would, he was more patient than you and more prideful. But you always tried. You run your tongue down the length of his torso, your own hand replacing his on his clothed erection feeling how swollen and hot he had become. His hand stayed in your hair, gripping the roots tightly as you teased him. Even breaths left him, but the hand betrayed his urgency, he wanted your mouth so badly, he was starting to consider begging when you pressed your face against the precum leaking through the fabric. Hot tongue flopping out to taste him.

“You’re filthy.” He remarked with a pleased smile coming over him.

You didn't respond, just nodded, feeling the combination of your saliva and his precum spread over your cheek. Finally you removed his boxers, his painfully hard cock springing free before you. Kishibe is a big man, tall, broad, big hands, big feet, he took up too much room in your bed, he ducked under doorways and struggled to find pants long enough, and his cock was no exception. Around eight inches in length, heavy balls underneath that were more sensitive than he let on, you needed two hands if you wanted to completely encircle his girth. No wonder he was so arrogant. Glistening pleasure leaked from the tip already, goading you to slip your tongue around his head, dipping it into his slit to collect his offering. His taste was as perfect as the rest of him, so unique to him, you could never get enough. You let a moan loose as you brought him into your mouth, overproducing saliva to give your hand pumping the rest of him more lubrication. Kishibe groaned above you, head tipping back for a moment as he sank into your hot mouth. His hand as the back of your head was encouraging, pushing slightly but allowing you to go at your own pace. Not wanting to miss out on the sight of you sucking him off, he rolled his head to the side, half lidded eyes looking down to watch. You were skilled at pleasuring him with your mouth, moving your hand and mouth in tandem, leaving even an inch untouched. Your tongue swirled around the head, causing him to shudder. You pulled off from him, still working your hand up and down his shaft as you slid under him to tongue at his balls. HIs abdominal muscles jumped at the sensation of your sliding your tongue along the seam before sucking one ball into your mouth and then the other.

“Fuck girl….” his voice was shakier than it had been before so his words became dirtier and more possessive, him trying to tip the scales back in his favor. You nodded under him, balls still in your mouth before moving back up to take him into your throat.

Having warmed yourself up, you could now take him much deeper into your throat, encasing the whole of his length. Both hands were now at the back of your head as he tugged your hair, pushing you down further. You kept your tongue flat along the underside of his shaft, tightening your throat around him and opening your eyes to meet him. A blush has spread from his neck across his shoulders and chest, he watched you closely, eyebrows pinching together as you gagged on him. Drool pooled and slipped from your lips, his cock leaving little room inside your mouth for anything else, it dripped onto the bed underneath you. Slowly you started to back off of his length, his hands no longer holding you in place. Instead they cupped either side of your face as you found your breath again. Kishibe ran a thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the spit there and spreading it further down your chin, your jaw hinged open following his silent directive. Leaning over you, collecting his own spit and releasing it into your open, waiting mouth, you moaned and swallowed gratefully.

“Good girl.” He praised you, making your heart shimmer. He pushed your hair out of your face with one hand, stroking your cheek for a moment watching you bask in the golden light of his affection. But he could only be so generous for so long, “Bend over.”

He joined you on the bed, mattress sinking under the addition of his weight, his hands staying on you however they could. You moved onto your knees, turning around, shivering as his hand skimmed up the back of your leg. Calloused hands leaving gooseflesh on your soft, pleasure heightened skin. You posed yourself onto your hands and knees, back arching to lift your ass prettily. You always felt so pretty under his touch, no room for insecurity or self doubt when he was spoiling you like this. Kishibe moved behind you, hands moving up your back pushing you down into a deeper arch, face against the bed. Once he had you in his favorite position, he looped his thumbs under the delicate fabric of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You had soaked them so thoroughly you could actually hear it as he pulled them away, pooling them around your knees. Now bare to him, the chill of fresh air hitting your core, you shivered again. One of his long fingers dipped between your folds, sliding up and down, playing with your wetness.

“I don't even have to stretch you out, do I? She’s already crying for me.” you could hear the wicked smirk on his face without seeing it.

“Kishi, please…Don’t tease.”You whimpered, pressing the side of your face into the duvet, peeking at him behind your lashes.

He gave a small slap to your bottom, watching the fat jiggle, “Don’t get bossy, Kid. You know I’ll take good care of you.” His thumbs pulled your lips apart, showing him how wet you were, “You got this wet just from sucking my cock, huh? You really are such a slut.”

Your face burned, embarrassment daring to creep up but being cut short by the feeling of his fat tongue licking you from clit to hole. Your eyes rolled back, a throaty moan leaving your lips at finally being touched by him. He hummed at your taste, dipping his tongue into your hole to pull more from you. One of his hands moved up your back, keeping you pressed against the mattress as he ate messily. Wet slurping and lapping filled your ears, your whimpers and moans filling his. Eating pussy from the back was his favorite, yours too, he was so skilled with his tongue, unafraid to get drenched in your juices. His facial hair scratched your outer labia and the skin of your inner thighs, the light needling only adding to how fucking good it was. He slid his tongue up and down you all the way from the clitoris to your asshole. Convinced you wouldn't move from where he had posed you, his hand left your back and helped to spread you apart for him. He watched you twitch for a moment, both holes clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by him. If he were a kinder man, he would show mercy and shove two of his thick fingers into your pussy, but he wasn’t a kind man. He loved watching you clench and pant, sweating under the absence of him inside of you. He wanted you whimpering, begging, maybe even crying before he filled you.

“Kiiiiishiiii baby please…” You mewled out, burying your face into a duvet, muffling the sound of your begging.

He resumed circling his tongue from your cunt to your ass, one finger circling your clit in time, “You know better than to cover up those pretty sounds. If you want something, ask for it.”

You huffed out, moving your head from the bedding and back to look at his face buried in you, “Please, baby please fuck me, I need it inside. I need you Kishibe, please.”

You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your folds, little shit was enjoying this too much. He hummed, vibrations resounding inside of you, “Cum like this, and then you’ll get my cock.”

You whimpered, as good as it was you knew you needed something inside to cum, “But…Ki--”

“I’m not asking.” He slurped loudly against your pussy.

Of course he was an expert in your body, he knew you needed the joint internal and external stimulation in order to orgasm. He knew he was setting you up to fail, he wanted you to fail. He wanted to hear you completely fucked out, on the precipice of a release that couldnt yet cum when he finally pushed himself inside of you. Further emphasizing that he wouldnt be using his fingers to fuck you, he wrapped his own hand around himself, squeezing tightly. He didn’t want to cum too soon, the way you had sucked him earlier he had nearly spoiled it right then. Any other night he wouldn't have cared and cum right in your mouth, watching you swallow him down like the good girl he had made you into. But tonight he needed to cum inside of you, he ached to feel you spasm around him and milk his dick for everything he had. He carried on eating you out, feeling his regular drunkenness give way to the intoxication pleasuring you. You whimpered under him, rocking your hips back against his ever moving tongue.

“Kishi ...please I can't…please. Baby please.”You felt tears slipping from your eyes, you wanted to cum so bad, the bastard behind you knew exactly what he was doing.

Raising his head from your pussy, Kishsibe looked at you crying and whimpering for him. Your lips wet and puffy, mirroring the set right in front of him.

“Oh baby…you givin’ up?” He teased, how he was able to look so smug while literally covered in your juice was beyond you

“Yes fuck I give up, please fuck me please. I need it so bad, I need to cum please.” You didn't care to hide how desperate you were, you worried you might die if he wasn't inside of you in the next few seconds.

Kishibe gave you one last long lick end to end before straightening up, his lower back aching more than he wanted. Overcome with excitement at the prospect of finally being filled you raised your upper body onto your hands, only to be immediately pushed back down.

“If you’re able to hold yourself up, maybe I should keep going until you can't.” Kishibe warned.

A broken cry pushed from your throat. You couldn’t keep going, you couldn’t be held back from your release any longer. Tears flooded down your cheeks and you begged him not to, promising to be good and do whatever he wanted. He had done it, he had completely wrecked you. Leaning over you, cock brushing against your heat so deliciously, Kishibe kissed the side of your face, not stopping himself as his tongue lapped up the salty tears staining your cheeks. Big hands on your back unclasped your bra, sliding it out from under you and groping your chest.

“There she is” His voice was so hot against your ear, rough and dripping with eroticism, “There’s my girl. And who am I?”

“Master.”

He gave a smack to your ass, “That's right, baby. Now be good and take Master’s cock all the way. I don’t wanna hear any of that bullshit about it being too much or too big, Okay?”

You nodded quickly, probably too many times but fuck you could barely think. Another slap to your ass brought you back to attention, “Yes, Master!”

He hummed with pride. Aligning himself behind you once more, sliding his cock head up and down your slit. Anticipation nearly becoming too much, your whimpers increased before he mercifully slid inside of you. The combination of your natural lubrication and his spit allowed him to ease in with barely any effort, you were still so tight around him. He was so big, it felt like he was splitting you open. A gravelly moan rang out from him, coming directly from his chest as he became fully immersed in you. The force of his thrust rocked your whole body forward. One hand holding you down by the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip. You cried out his title as he pulled back nearly all the way before pushing in again. Finally you felt the white hot coil of orgasm building rapidly in your lower belly.

“Fuck! Fuck Master, “You wailed, “Yes! I’m so close, Fuck, thank you, master!”

The hand on your neck moved to grip your hair, pulling it back harshly, forcing you to arch all the way back as he continued to bully his cock up inside of you, “You had your chance to cum, already. You’ll wait for me.”

His voice was so husky against your ear, hair gripped tight in his grasp, you had to focus all your energy on not cumming despite how close his postponing cock was bringing you. Wrenching your head to the side Kishibe kissed you, rough and hot, swallowing down your moans before they could leave you. Your hands struggled to find somewhere to land alternating between gripping his thigh and traveling up to his neck and hair. The upright doggy position allowed him so deep inside of you, his free hand moving over your bouncing breasts and down to press on your lower stomach, feeling himself inside of you. He was so fucking cruel, you cried out, breaking the kiss, head falling back on his shoulder, eyes closed in blinding pleasure. You could still hear him grunting in your ear, his lips needed you and found their next best option, the side of your neck. Knowing exactly what he was doing he pushed harder, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“Stop Kishi, please. It’s too much.”

His gripped your throat tightly, “I said no fucking whining. Did I already fuck every thought out of your head or can’t you remember?”

You strained to look at him with pleading eyes choking your words past his grip, “I-I’m sorry, Master”

His hand around your throat had made you tighten around him, he was so close, he had wanted to drag this out more. Wanted to remind you who was in charge. But he felt himself faltering, hips shuddering, balls tightening. Kishibe released your throat allowing you to catch your breath, he stopped holding you upright and you fell forward, falling exactly into your previous position: face against the mattress, hips high, ass out. His grip on your hips was bruising, tomorrow morning he would be tracing those bruises as you stood making coffee in the suite's kitchenette. But right now you were made to take his cock, he could be gentle with you another time, not now.

“Touch yourself, cum.” He commanded having to focus all his energy on keeping his thrusts deep and even. Your hand flew between your legs, circling your achingly sensitive clit. His work earlier had you already twitching.

He thrusted deep and jagged twice more before he felt your walls tremble around him, the sound Kishibe makes when he cums was almost always uniform, a low howl that erupted from his throat as he pressed right against your cervix. You joined him in his orgasm, the pair of you singing a private duet that only you would ever hear. You could feel his hot cum filling you, your orgasm covered you like being caught in a sudden rainstorm. Drenched in pleasure, your mind existed only for thoughts of him. His lips found your shoulder, still deep inside of you, Kishibe grew softer, both his cock and his treatment.

“Good girl,” he spoke against your sweat-dampened skin, “did so good, baby.”

You let out a strangled sound, still barely recovered from your mind melting orgasm. Another whimper left you as he removed himself from inside of you. You stayed on your stomach, but allowed your legs to relax, now laying totally prone. Kishibe moved next to you, catching his breath and allowing the feeling to come back to his lower half. You lay together panting, allowing aftershocks of pleasure to ebb and flow over the next few moments. Turning your face to look at him, you placed a hand on his chest. He took it and pressed the back of your hand to his lips. When you had finally regained your composure, you swatted his chest lightly, truly nothing compared to his brutal treatment.

“You’re such an asshole.” You chuckled out, you slotted yourself against his side, draping a leg over his.

“You love when I’m mean,” he rolled his eyes, “I can feel it, so don't try to lie. You get so tight when I push you around.”

He was right, you loved it. You loved-- no. not yet. You couldn't yet say that you loved him, that would be too much. But you knew it, and even if it was just for yourself, for now that was enough.

“So now that we’re going steady, do I have to take you to breakfast?” he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, dull nails scratching your scalp making you purr.

“ ‘Going Steady’? Jesus, you are an old man.” You teased him through blushing cheeks.

You tried to be careful when you poked fun about his age, but you saw the small curve of his lips that let you know you were off the hook this time. He pulled you closer to him, rolling his eyes again.

“Big talk for someone who begs to cum around this old man’s cock like it's the only words she knows.” he tapped your temple once.

You leaned up to face him, finally ready to ask him the question that had been burning since you had first arrived in the lavish suite, “Are you really on assignment or did you rent this room yourself?”

If you didn’t know better you’d think he was blushing. But you do know better. Kishibe rested his head against the pillow and turned his gaze from you to the ceiling, “Maybe I wanted to do something nice for you.”

You could help smiling widely at him, you had found him out, “I knew it! You are a romantic…awe all this just to ask me to be your giiiiirlfriend?” you elongated the title to see if you really could draw the blush out of him.

He smacked your ass hard once, “Shut up, I told you not to get used to it! You’re not getting this again if you keep talking like that.”

You ass still stung a bit from his harsh treatment earlier, so you snuggled back into his neck, kissing underneath one of his ears. His big arms wrapped around your back. Soon you would fall asleep, he would separate from you and go to have another smoke on the patio, tomorrow morning you would wake up together and he would treat you to breakfast. He could already feel your breaths growing relaxed, sleep starting to win you over and although you couldn't see it, he was blushing.

#chainsaw man #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man kishibe #chainsaw man x reader #kishibe smut #csm kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe fanfic #kishibe x you #smut #k bye thanks

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unknowndrone · 2 years

Text

The Family Left Behind

Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Prompt: It’s post snap and Yelena finds a strangely familiar little girl cleaning her sister’s grave

WC: 593

Yelena sees a little girl hovering over the grave. She eyes her intently, observing her actions. At first glance, she would’ve thought it had been a member of the public, a child who managed to sneak into the site to mangle with her sister’s grave. Yet, it seems the rumors were true judging by the number of familiar features that the child possessed. She had Nat’s green eyes and your y/h/c hair. It was indeed her sister’s child and her niece for that matter. The little in question was gently pushing away the leaves that were piling the front of the grave, gently mumbling some song under her breath as she does. A small pit grows in Yelena’s stomach at the sight of watching the child clean her mother’s grave.

As the child cleans, a familiar tune leaves her lips through a whistle. Yelena instantly lights up, and without hesitation, she fills the void of the tune. A smile forms her lips realizing you or Natasha must’ve taught the child the tune. The child jumps at the sound, instantly averting her eyes to the source. There, her familiar eyes meet Yelena’s.

“Aunt Yelena?” The child asks.

Yelena jumps in surprise. “You know who I am?”

The child smiles, jumping happily before running straight into her aunt’s arms. A dumbfound expression glosses over Yelena’s eyes, but nevertheless, she melts into the child’s grip, squeezing her back gently. “You came back! Momma said you would come back!”

Words get caught in Yelena’s throat. “Mo-wha-”

Before Yelena could move another muscle, a familiar voice echoes from meters away from them, calling for what seems to be like the child’s name. “Lena! Lena!”

You emerge from the bushes only to stop once you see the blonde being hugged to death by your child. “Oh! Hi!” You say happily but surprised. “Lena come over here and please don’t bother the nice lady,” you lightly scold. Only the child giggles before running into your arms, jumping happily.

“Y/N?” Yelena asks with raised eyebrows.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Yes?”

A lump forms in Yelena’s throat as she tries to maintain her own composure. This was her, the person that Natasha had been speaking about with so much life in her eyes, the person that Natasha would talk about nonstop if there was someone who would listen. It was you, Y/N, Natasha’s light. “I’m-uh- I’m Yelena.”

It takes you less than a second for things to click together and your eyes soften. “Nat’s sister.“

Yelena nods weakly, “yes. Yes, that’s me.” She begins stumbling on her words, “sorry, I-I’m just.”

She looks as if she was on the verge of crying as her bottom lip begins to quiver and her hands begin to shake. Without warning, you walk up to her only to wrap your arms around her frame. “It’s okay.”

Truthfully you had known plenty about Yelena, too. Natasha would talk about her family all the time to you and you had always wanted to meet them in person. Preferably with Natasha by your side to introduce them to you, but it seems the world was not that generous with happy moments.

“Why don’t you stay for lunch and we can catch up?” You suggest.

Yelena could only muster a nod as she watches you begin to lead the way. When it takes you one second too long, Yelena only feels a small hand grabs her’s, dragging her along behind you. “Come on, Aunt Yelena!” Lena says happily.

The small gesture almost made Yelena’s soul combust.

_______________________________

Thanks for reading! It’s currently fucking 9 in the morning because my window won’t shut and some bitch decided to blast music from their car. I will square up with the asscrack later. So excuse me for this impulse :) Nice to see you again. Have a great day/night and may you always stay safe!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #yelena belova imagine #fic: short #fix your window idiot

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sheepgirlmaidtummy · 2 months

Note

fucking thank you for mentioning that black and brown and indigenous bloggers (esp trans women) on this website have been nuked since 2016 and nobody gave a shit. this website has been racist and transmisogynistic for years and 99% of the ""community"" on here didn't give a fuck until now.

an indigenous child is dead. transfem bloggers are harassed. nobody cares about that. the white trans community on this site cares about funny jokes and infighting instead of protecting us. avery deserves better. nex deserved better. children are being murdered and people have decided to strip every ounce of racial and transmisogynistic intent from the current wave of violence in favor of jokes.

when do we get to be a part of our own communities? when do we get the support and protection and righteous anger from other trans people? im so fucking tired.

honestly? ive been talking about this stuff for years, and the only reason it got attention is because of what happened to rita being so public, those posts never got the attention they should've and that doesnt surprise me in the slightest.

we arent a part of this "community", we wouldnt be trampled on and forgotten if we were actually important. and whenever we make our own spaces they take that over too. it doesnt matter what happens to us in the process. i hate the performative bullshit i hate the jokes i hate the ignorance i hate that theres nothing left for us.

the only times we're fucking noticed is when somebody murders us and EVEN THEN thats giving too much credit. white people get to joke about this shit while we have to live every day accepting that we'll be left behind. with no way of finding others like us to even feel just a smidgen of comfort. you look at the tag for black trans women before this photomatt bs and theres nothing but our murders. you cant even find shit about all the poc getting banned from this site because nobody cared to document anything let alone Help us.

im really fucking tired of seeing the 'support black trans women!' posts around here. you dont support us when we look you in the eye and Beg. when i got kicked out last year and made a post about it NOBODY batted an eye until rita and afew other popular white transfems reblogged it. and im the lucky one. people would rather be upset at the hammer car than us dying in the streets. i dont even know how to type this all out, just thinking about this makes me furious. i spent the early years of my transition hearing nothing but black trans girls getting murdered in their cars for $100. thats how worth our lives are in this "community". we cant even get that much in donations.

im tired too hun, im really fucking tired

#transgender #predstrogen #transmisogyny #transmisogynoir #trans #i feel like im gonna fucking puke lol i hate how fake you people are #for the people that actually care. that story about a black trans woman being murdered in her car is Real.#she was 17yrs old. i saw that story when i was 16. ive seen more like it before that and since #i cant even find her name because trying to look it up only pulls up more murders. one 2hrs away from me too! awesome!

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staygoldwriting · 9 months

Text

💌 To the Steve I Loved Before: Part 4

A Steve Harrington TATBILB!AU fic

Links to Parts 1-3 on my masterlist!

Summary: Y/N has written love letters to get over her deepest crushes. What happens when Steve Harrington gets his hands on her letter to him?

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series by Jenny Han! I have used none of her characters, but have only used the premise of a love letter in the wrong hands.

Word count: ~1200

Warnings: None, just fluff! And someone gets kissed smack on the lips 🙈

A/N: AHH I’m ashamed it’s taken me this long to write and post this next chapter 😥 but I’m back and it’s GETTING GOOD FOLKS! Haha I hope you enjoy this next chapter, please let me know what you think, and, as always, please show love and support! ❤️✨

“Wow, Steve Harrington, huh?” Eddie said, laughing softly. It sounded slightly sad, but you brushed it aside in the midst of your panic about the massive lie you just blurted out.

“Yeah?” you said, half-sure. “Why?”

“It’s nothing, I just… I guess I didn’t expect it,” he said slowly, looking down. “But then again, what do I know?” he shrugged, laughing.

“No worries, I mean, it took me by surprise too,” you said, being honest for the first time in a while. “But I guess you never know, right?” You glanced down at your watch, desperate to get out of the conversation. “Oh, look! My shift’s over. Well, Eddie it was nice to see you--”

“Can I walk with you? I’d like to give Steve my well wishes,” he said, smiling brightly. How could you say no to such a sweet face?

“Um, sure,” you said slowly, trying not to look suspicious. “But, um, if Steve acts weird or something, don’t hold it against him, okay? He’s… shy.”

“Steve? Shy?” Eddie laughed out loud, making you groan to yourself about the weak lie. “I’ve never known the Steve Harrington to ever be shy, especially about having a beautiful girlfriend.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Eddie called you beautiful. You blushed deeply, smiling softly at him as you walked away from the desk.

“Well, thank you, Eddie,” you said sweetly as you two started walking. “But yeah, I guess he’s not really into public displays of affection?”

“Well, he seems rather comfortable with those girls over there,” Eddie said, looking at you with concern. You looked over to see Steve leaning over the counter, flirting with a couple girls. You scoffed and grimaced at Steve’s smug face.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Eddie looked at you in surprise, but stuck by your side as you approached Scoops Ahoy. Robin looked up, panicking when she saw Eddie was with you. She looked at you intently and made a what’s going on?! face, but you were lasered in on Steve. You pushed forward and past the girls, adrenaline racing again, pulled Steve in by the shoulders, and kissed him square on the lips. You felt his hands go up in shock, and as you pulled away, his eyes were wide, looking extremely confused.

“I’m sorry,” you said in as sweet a voice as you could muster, “I know I don’t usually kiss you at work, but I just couldn’t help myself! I missed you too much.”

Steve looked at you like he was witnessing an alien encounter. His mouth formed in various ways, trying to find words, and his brow furrowed as nothing came out.

“Ugh! No wonder he wasn’t interested,” a snarky girl spat behind you. “Let’s go, girls--he’s clearly got bad taste if he’s dating her.”

With a flourish of ponytails and curls, the girls turned around and left. Robin was looking on in shock, mouth hung open as she chuckled intermittently. She knew exactly what you were doing, but couldn’t actually believe it was happening.

“Y/N,” Steve said, speaking slowly and hoarsely, “what-what are you doing?”

You leaned in close to feign affection and whispered to Steve.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll explain later. In the meantime, can I kiss you one more time?”

“Yes-I mean, wait, why?”

“I’ll explain later, promise!” you whisper-yelled. “I’ll be waiting in front of the pretzel shop.”

With that, you kissed him again, no shock from Steve this time, and smiled at him sweetly.

“See you later, honey,” you said as you turned back to Eddie, who was grinning widely.

“Way to go, L/N!” he cheered. “You sure made sure those girls know he’s taken,” he smiled, giving you a high five.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled softly. Eddie went on talking about more topics, but you found yourself distracted by the discovery that Steve Harrington isn’t a bad kisser.

-💌-

You were sitting in front of the pretzel shop with your feet resting on another chair when Steve walked up to you timidly. You moved your feet quickly as he sat down in front of you. His eyes darted each way, then he leaned on his knees to look at you.

“Hey Steve,” you said simply.

“Hey Steve? Y/N, what just happened?”

“Okay, let me explain!” you started, and Steve scoffed, giving you a you better look. “So, a while ago, I started writing… love letters… to guys I’d fallen for.”

“O-kay…” Steve said slowly.

“And I wrote a bunch of them with the intention to use them to get over each guy, they were never ever meant to get out! But then they did, and most of them had the wrong address, but… Eddie’s didn’t. And I couldn’t let him think that I feel the same way I felt in the letter.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you still feel that way about Eddie?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess you obviously don’t, I mean, why else would you go and kiss me in front of him?” he said, sitting back. Then, he looked at you skeptically and leaned back in.

“So, why did you kiss me?” he asked.

“I’m getting to that,” you said impatiently, and he nodded. “So, regardless of my feelings, the letter was really embarrassing, and then he told me he doesn’t feel the same, so all the humiliation was for nothing, and-”

“That’s brutal,” Steve chuckled, and you glared at him. He looked at you apologetically and held his hands out for you to continue.

“... And I panicked, and I told him it didn’t matter because I was dating someone else,” you said quickly. Steve smirked and clicked his tongue, nodding.

“Alright, I get it now,” he said, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows. “So, clearly, I was on your mind,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“So, can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a little bit, just until all this Eddie stuff dies down?”

“Listen, Y/N, as much as I would love to do this for you,” he started sarcastically, “has it ever occurred to you that you could just tell Eddie the truth?”

“And embarrass myself more? No way!” you yelled.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I get it. Somehow, I understand your twisted little mind.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Steve looked away and squinted. He pursed his lips, then looked back at you.

“Yeah, sure, I’m game,” he said decidedly, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Steve, really!” you smiled, and he nodded back at you. “We’ll have to meet again sometime soon to discuss the terms, but we need a more private place for that,” you said, starting to think out loud.

“Sure, sure,” Steve said passively, clearly thinking about something else. “Let’s meet at my place at eight tonight. My parents won’t be home, and I’ll order a pizza.”

“That sounds great, thanks again, Steve!” you said, standing to go.

��Wait a sec, Y/N,” he said, looking at you.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I’m just thinking… I was the first person that came to your mind, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you said quietly, your heart pounding.

“And Robin had a love letter with her today…”

Your heart pounded even more, and you prayed he wouldn’t put it all together, but it was too late.

“Does that mean you wrote me a love letter?”

-💌-

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