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suguruplsr · 4 months

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Can we please get a Suguru × overworked Waitress reader? It can be fluff, maybe light angst from the reader, I'm all for the spice/smut as well 🩵🩵🩵

(btw you're one of my favorite writers on here, pls never stop🩷)

Let Me Do It

,, x fem! reader , fluff + light angst + suggestive ending? <3

note: ty nonnie, that makes me so happy to hear. i try my best babes <333

divider @/chachachannah

Friday, 9:05 PM • [suguru] to [you]: u off right abt now? picking u up today.

Friday, 9:10 PM • [you] to [suguru]: mhm, getting my things. i’ll bring u that frappe you like <3

you smile at the incoming message of suguru letting you know he’s on his way, thanking you for the drink. you double check your things, putting them next to each other before walking out of the break room.

the usually bustling cafe was hushed, the lo-fi music in the background playing more clearly without voices over it. the few coworkers leaving gave you their goodbyes as you head to the kitchen, starting on the mocha frappe suguru would regularly ask for in the drive-thru. humming the tune of the song in your earbud, you consider grabbing an extra drink or making a bag of food for yourself.

unfortunately, while in a time limit and a body that desperately needs to lay down, your indecisive mind convinces you to grab a donut, and quickly fry a medium sized pack of fries. an odd choice sure. but you recently got off your period, let a girl live.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you pack up the food items. with a small pep in your step, you head to the break room, catching your manager. “[name]! just the one i was looking for— i just wanted to thank you for taking extra hours this week, i was hoping if you could do it again next? you’ll be compensated greatly.” she smiles as if she couldn’t see the visible signs of tiredness upon your face.

your stomach turns disgustingly from the sight of her uncanny expression. you’re finally about to experience your two days off on the weekend, after multiple tiring days that rank from you waking up at dawn, working morning to night. “uh, im not entirely sure. i’ll call you before monday.” you don’t have the heart to tell her no, even if you know you’re teetering on the line of total exhaustion. you manager grins, clapping her hands together, “thank you so much! i’ll be waiting for that call. have a good day [name]!” you mutter a ‘you too’ as she disappears to her office, dread filling your body.

you know, once you try saying no, she’s gonna tell all the things as last time. about how business is harder after she fired some workers, or how much she could really use your help. all the same manipulation that makes your weak heart endure work tirelessly.

you shake your head, remembering that suguru was probably outside by now, considering the periodic buzz of your phone, and settling your things in your large work bag. which was basically a big purse, it’s been pretty helpful since you started bringing bags of food home. deciding that you don’t want a mocha mess in your purse, you carry the drink to the black BMW just outside of the establishment.

you see suguru leaning on the vehicle, his expression softening once he sees you, his arms opening invitingly, “hey baby.” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you when you move eagerly into his hold, just needing to feel him. and his warm embrace quells all of the distress in you. you let out a deep sigh, body melting like jelly and turning your head to kiss his throat. “hi..” you whisper, “hi.” suguru smiles, looking down at you.

but your stomach turns when his lips form into a frown, eyebrows furrowed, “get in the car f’me.” he speaks in a hushed tone, kissing your forehead and walking with you to the passenger door, opening it for you. you get settled into the car once he closes the door, smelling the aroma of roses coming from the rose thorn air freshener hanging on the rear view mirror.

suguru turns his head to you after slowing down at the red light, just a few blocks away from home. you’re laid back with your eyes closed. and his eyes find the places on your body that signify your terrible exhaustion. like the eye bags you hate so much. hair more unkempt than how you like it, mainly because you’ve kept it in one style most of the week. or how you haven’t had time to wear any of the pieces of jewelry you love so much.

he can’t help but feel discomfort tingle in him as he thinks about the off handed comments you’ve mentioned about your manager for the past few weeks. all mostly with a roll of your eyes, or a sorry smile because of the extra hours you put in. it all makes suguru consider grabbing that phone of yours and giving her a piece of his mind.

but the small sounds of your snores bring an unconscious smile to his face, pressing on the gas.

you awake to your head hitting one of the uncomfortable pillows on your couch, body secured in suguru’s hold as he lays you on the couch. “hm?” you groan, blinking your eyes in confusion as suguru smiles down at you, “gonna go get your stuff from the car, i made dinner earlier, it’s on the stove.” your hearts warms from his words, a dreamy sigh barely leaving your lips as he parts from you with one of his forehead kisses, your favorite.

once he’s slipping out the front door, you stretch with a yawn, smelling a lingering scent of one of the many incense he owns, mixed with the smell of your favorite food. as you’re fixing your plates, you hear the front door close, footsteps moving throughout the house before heading towards you, and the sound of your lover slurping his drink begins to get loud. seconds later, arms wrap around you, a half empty drink in his hand, “have i ever told you how much i love you?” suguru kisses your neck, a strong whiff of mocha within his breath.

you cringe with a giggle hidden in your voice, “mmm, i dunno. i’m sure you love that frappe. considering it’s gone after..how long? three minutes?” you chuckle, putting down the utensil used to set the food on the plates, and laying your head onto his shoulder while he begins to pepper kisses around your face. “s’too good baby. but go sit down, let me finish this for you. bag’s in the room..” suguru gives you a firm little squeeze on your waist, taking away the plate in your hand and stepping back to let you escape his hold.

you allow him to take control, raising a brow at his catering. “is something wrong?” you question with a tilt of your head watching as he moves swiftly around the kitchen. you only gain his silence for a few moments, admiring the black graphic tee that his muscles would flex through every now and then, long hair swaying. you love seeing that slightly annoyed expression of his whenever his bang gets in his way. and you know it won’t be long until he’s asking you to trim it for him.

“well.. you seem more tired recently. and of course, i love seeing you work hard. but i just don’t want you touching a single thing when you’re home, you do too much at work already. just let me make your life a bit easier baby..” suguru sighs, eyes holding his grimace. bothered from the mere thought of you overworking yourself, just saying it is hard enough for him. as he goes to grab some silverware, facing you, he’s greeted with the sight of you silently crying, hurriedly wiping your eyes as he quickly moves over to you.

“s-sorry. you just —“ you hiccup, trying to gulp down the heavy feeling in your throat as suguru pulls you into a heartfelt hug that only makes you break down more, wrapping your arms right around his neck. “you don’t have to talk.” his whispers, “but i want you to know how much i appreciate you, i really needed this.” you mumble, sighing in content as he lifts you up, meeting your gaze with a boyish smile, despite your wet crying face, and pecking your lips.

“yea?”

“yeah..”

“wanna tell me about it?”

“not yet.. in the morning.”

suguru hums in acknowledgement, walking towards your bedroom door as you hold his face dearly, kissing around his lips before giving him a long deep kiss. “god.. you don’t know how much i love you..” and he huffs against your lips, rolling his eyes with a grin that sticks to his face, cheeks hurting. “i’m pretty sure you can show me another time. all about you t’night baby..”

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faeriichaii · 4 months

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hiii! Hope you're doing well <3 if it's not much trouble could I request Legolas x reader where the ring fellowship one night stopped at some kind of inn to rest, and reader happens to be a musician that performed there that night and catches the interest of Legolas??you can make up the rest of the plot !Thank you 🫶🫶

Music to My Ears ~ Legolas x Reader

A/N: Hii thank you for asking I'm doing fine atm <33 I hope you're doing all right as well! Thank you so much for requesting!! I love the idea and I really hope you love the story :) Ngl I even listened to like some tavern ambience stuff to really get into the groove haha

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, mention of alcohol (Just a bit cause Gimli) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ A'maelamin ~ My Beloved ࿐ྂ

Summary: A trip to the tavern results in you not just winning new fans over with your music, but also winning the heart of a certain elven prince.

Rain was pouring down as you walked through the busy streets, trying to find your destination. Stopping in front of a wooden building, you look up towards the sign that read ‘The King’s Head’. Entering through the door, you were greeted by loud laughter and chatter from various customers, who sat at their tables to take a relaxing break after their hard days. You have been working as a musician for quite a while and moved from one place to another, making a name for yourself on the way. “Welcome to ‘The King’s Head’. What can I get ya?” A woman asked you, as she mustered you from head to toe with a smile. Realization dawned upon her as she started to recognize you. “Hello, I am here for the performance of the night. Do you maybe know where my room is, so I can leave my baggage there and prepare myself?” Nodding brightly, the woman walked behind the bar counter, got a set of keys and signed you to follow her up the stairs.

“(Y/N) it is an honour to have you play for us tonight!” You smile at her, before she started to open the door for you. “I am happy for the invitation to play my song in this lovely tavern.” At that the woman grins, handing you the keys and leaving you alone in the room. It was a small room with a small wooden bed on the right side and a bedside table. You put your bag on the bed, before taking out your violin, strumming it and playing a few notes before leaving the room. While walking out the door you bump into the back of someone. “Oh- Excuse me I didn’t watch where I was going.” You say, before continuing to walk down to start your performance, not noticing the gaze of a certain elven prince linger on your disappearing figure.

Taking your place on the small makeshift stage, the waitress from before appeared again. Clapping twice into her hands, she silences the tavern. Now that the attention was set on the both of you, she stepped aside a little to introduce you warmly. “Dear guests, please welcome the star of the night, (Y/N)!” Claps and cheers filled the space, as you put your violine in its right place and began with your most known song. People started to stand up, taking others hands and began to dance around happily while laughing and chatting with glee. Some even started to sing with you, almost as if they knew your songs by heart like you did.

Letting your gaze wander across the tavern, you notice an intriguing party at one of the tables. Four hobbits were dancing around the table, while a dwarf laughed loudly with a pint of ale in his hand. Beside him sat two men, one who you knew as the strider. You two once met in a tavern a few months ago and conversed for a bit, sharing stories of your adventures, leading you two to become somewhat acquaintances. However, the other man is unknown to you. His long white hair was braided at the sides, making him reveal his pointy ears. A smile spreads on your lips as you catch his eyes staring at you, making him quickly turn his attention towards his smaller companion.

After a few more songs you take a quick break, to hydrate yourself and grab some food that the waitress prepared for you. Looking around the full tavern, you spot an empty seat beside Aragorn and decide to approach the table. “Is this seat taken?” You ask him with your plate in one hand and the drink in the other. “Long time no see (Y/N). I see you have really made yourself a name.” He smiles at you, before pulling out the chair. “What brings you here on this stormy night Strider?” “We are on an important journey, however I can’t really tell you more.” You look around the table, stopping at the ethereal looking elf beside him.

“Let me introduce you to the company. The hobbits dancing around are Merry and Pippin. Big fans of yours apparently. And these two are Sam and Frodo.” The both opposite of you give you a small wave, before continuing to eat, meanwhile the two dancing around stand beside you with pleading eyes. “Are you going to perform ‘The Elfin Knight’? It’s one of our favourites!” “How can I say no, now that you have asked me so nicely.” You smile at them, before they skip away. “My half-drunk friend is called Gimli and this,” Aragorn stops a moment to scoot back with his chair, so you can clearly see the man beside him. “This is Legolas.” You smile at him softly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance (Y/N).” “The pleasure is all mine.” Staring into his brown eyes you notice a golden swirl around them, making them look like the purest form of jewels. “Legolas just told me how much he enjoyed the songs you played so far.” You giggle at the confession and see a gentle smile grace the elven princes beautiful face, making him look almost like an actual angel.

“I will grab something from the bar.” Aragorn says, before disappearing into the crowd of people. Taking the now empty spot beside you, Legolas leans towards you. “Your music is very capturing. Can you maybe even play a song from the elven realms?” “I’m sure I will be able to play a song just for you.” He chuckles at that, making your heart melt on the spot at the soft sound. “I hold you to that promise.” His hand delicately brushes against yours for a split second, making you feel just a little bit warmer. Focusing your gaze on his eyes once more, you gasp softly at the warmth that radiates from them. “You have really beautiful eyes.” You remark, melting at the way they crinkle when he lets out a light laugh. “I think your eyes might shine more like mine. They look like they could rival against any star in the dark night sky.” A pink tinge accompanies your face at his heartfelt compliment.

After you finished your dinner, as well as your lovely chat with the elf, you fulfilled the wishes of Merry, Pippin and Legolas with the last few songs of the night. Grabbing the money for your performance from the waitress, you prepare to go back to your room for the night. However, before you get a chance to leave, the elven prince approaches you once more. “I really loved your performance.” “Thank you very much. Does this mean I can count you as one of my admirers now?” You ask him teasingly. “I think I might actually now be your number one admirer.” He responses while taking your hand in his. “It is quite sad that your performance is already over and the chances are slim that you might want to join our company, right?” “Even if I wish to join you and your friends on the journey, I sadly can’t. I am not really good with weapons and won’t be of good use to you.” A slight sadness washes over his face, however it dissipates as quickly as it came. Suddenly he gently pulls your hand towards his lips, giving it a kiss. Heat floods your cheeks at the sweet gesture. “I hope to meet you again sometime A’maelamin.” With these last words, he leaves your side and takes a part of your heart with him.

Weeks pass and you are once again playing your songs in a small tavern in a new village. The newest edition of your songs called ‘A lovely pool of honey’ Your eyes travel across the various dancing people until they spot a very familiar company at the table. Setting for a familiar set of honey kissed brown eyes, you smile brightly while your heart once again flows with warmth and love for the song you wrote for your one ethereal elven muse.

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas lotr #the lord of the rings #lotr legolas #lord of the rings #fluff #the lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #legolas #lord of the rings fic #lotr #middle earth #lord of the rings legolas #x reader

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hellishjoel · 6 months

Text

sunnyside cemetery

5.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter

summary: A ghost haunts the kitchen. Or does it? A spooky night at the cemetery forces your feelings for Frankie to come to a head.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, pet names, mentions of insecurity, smut, public sex (is it if everyone’s dead? maybe), oral (f! receiving), squirting, cum eating, a little angst at the end for flavor

A/N: happy halloween!! thank you so SO much to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for her impeccable, unmatched knowledge of the inner workings of a kitchen and a diner/restaurant! Makes it so much more realistic.

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!**

“Oh- what the fuck, Christ, oooh Frankie,” you whimper loudly, grounding your heels into the dirt. You’re torn between running away from the feeling that is all too good, or staying, and enjoying your slice of heaven in this graveyard. Your orgasm is running a fever inside you, making you hot, losing your thoughts. It’s different from anything you’ve ever felt. He’s- oh god. “Frankie, you’re gonna make me,” you clench your eyes closed and whimper loudly, feeling him add more pressure to that perfect spot. “Fucking squirt for me, baby,” Frankie’s devilishly deep tone sparks a shock to your core, causing you to cry out in a bliss of agony.

It’s a cold and dreary night. The diner is dead, not a living soul in sight. Booths settle with dust, unaccompanied by any guest for hours, even days. Yellow fluorescents flicker ominously overhead. The windows at the very front of the restaurant weep droplets that have been falling since dawn.

The already weakly supported awning outside shuddered in the wind, attempting to protect the front door and any guests from the rainfall. The gusts made it nearly impossible to see out to the road.

Lou, the bus boy, was standing in the middle of the diner’s aisle, slowly mopping the same patterned circle over and over again while he listened to music playing through his earbuds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The loud disruption was enough to make Lou’s head pop up and turn from left to right. He takes out an earbud to hear better. It was silent, lurking, the fluorescent light causing his head to ache. Maybe he was just hearing the awning squawk and bend to the will of the wind.

Just as he sighed, about to put his earbud back in, he heard it again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Okay, that time, he definitely heard something. A thin layer of sweat coats the back of Lou’s neck, moving with precision as he slowly creeps over the wet mop streaks he’s made and inches closer to where the noise originates.

Lou stops in the kitchen, the swinging door whooshing behind him. He peers through the pass, no one in sight. He sighs and shakes it off. There’s nothing here. But then again, just as he turns, a muffled bang! bang!

Lou’s breath is seized, stripped from his lungs as he stands frozen in fear, staring with unblinking eyes at the walk in.

The door. It was pulsing. Snapping against its hinges, banging relentlessly in a horrific rhythm. It was a portal to hell! Lou was sure of it!

He skitters away with shaky legs, gasping with fear as he flinches away from the monstrous thing.

“Holy shit! The place is haunted!” The stick of the mop clatters to the floor, echoing through the diner as the lights flickered. Lou ran to his car and finished his shift early on Halloween night.

The walk in door bangs a few more subtle times, leaking cloaked moans and grunts from what’s inside. It wooshes open, cold trickling into the kitchen.

Frankie peaks his head out first. Checks left, then right.

“We’re good.” He mutters, securing his belt and fixing his hat.

You subtly clear your throat as you walk past him, retie the apron around your waist, and shake from the chill you got. The walk in was great for a quick makeout session, but nothing more. It was cramped as all hell.

“We’re not doing it in there again.” You huff, goosebumps riddling your body as you watch Frankie haul meats from the bottom shelf, a dainty label with messy sharpie highlighting the date of preparation and expiration in his handwriting.

“Hey,” he said with playful defense, “I had to get more burger meat, you followed me in there.”

You shrug and stroke your thumb across the red bandana on his forehead.

“You liked it.”

He scoffs playfully and nips at your uniform-covered shoulder as he walks past you with the meat. “Never said I didn’t, princess.”

You walk back out onto the floor, noticing a wet trail leading to the mop, but no one attending it. “Where the hell is Lou?”

You turn your head, share a look with Frankie through the pass, and shrug.

---

“This seems scary,” Tina whispers as she trails behind you on the side of the road.

“It’s not that scary.” You try to push down the smile on your face as you lead your diner crew after a late night Tuesday shift to the local cemetery. The rain had paused, but the dark clouds still loomed.

Tina, the new waitress, was nearly tripping over her feet in the dark, quietly squeaking her concerns to Paul. Paul stood about two feet above her and walked onwards like a subtle, silent giant.

Rudy, the owner’s son, came along, too. He wasn’t exactly invited, but you suppose he was eager to be a part of something. He catches up to your side and keeps your pace, much to your dislike.

“So creepy out here tonight. You, uh, want me to hold your hand?” Rudy asked with a dingy smile, reaching for your hand that skittered away on its own. Rudy was relentless and a pig, it made you squirm.

There were times during your shifts he would put his hand on your waist, play with the hem of your uniform’s skirt. You weren’t above spilling hot coffee on him to get him to back off, and there were times that Frankie would step in, but Rudy wasn’t an idiot. He started working his advances on you when Frankie had days off. You hadn’t told this to Frankie yet, you didn’t want him to get riled up over something as little as a creep with his hand up your skirt. You could take care of yourself. You just wish you didn’t have to.

“Uhm-” You start to say awkwardly, shuffling your flashlight to the hand closest to Rudy's, making it seem unavailable.

“I think she’s good.” Frankie’s protective voice barks from the back of the group, now weaving through the band of scared-to-death coworkers and walking protectively at your side. Like a strong, bold German Shepherd.

Rudy is forced to make room for Frankie on the walkway, huffing quietly as he takes a back seat and slows his pace, letting you and Frankie lead the pack.

Your smile is bashful and appreciative as you keep walking. His knuckles brush against yours, but you stay looking forward.

You had convinced the closing staff to come to Sunnyside Cemetery on Halloween, mainly to scare the shit out of them but also because you didn’t really have anything to do tonight. Well, besides Frankie, but you could do that any night of the week at this point.

Things were casual, nothing more, despite how attractive he became instilling fear in Rudy for bothering you. Far enough ahead of the group and losing them in the fog, you lightly hook your pointer finger around his, holding it as you walk off the road’s path and into the tall, wet grass.

“Why do they call it Sunnyside Cemetery? Kind of contradicting, don’t you think?” Tina squeaked until Paul stopped walking and looked down at her before he pointed across the road to Sunnyside Produce.

“They were here first… the cemetery just went with the flow.” He said with a monotone register before he walked down the grassy hill, much to Tina’s panic-induced speech about going back.

You sharply swiveled on your heel and pointed the flashlight at her.

“There is no going back.” A crack of thunder and lightning followed your harrowing sentence. Damn, that was perfect fucking timing. Your eyes lit up to Frankie’s, and he looked just as impressed by your eeriness.

Tina and Rudy whined but followed suit. Paul was just… Paul.

“Did you see that? Did it make me ten times scarier?” You whispered to Frankie excitedly as your sneakers squished moss and snapped twigs below you.

“Super scary, babe. Petrifying.” He said with his playboy smirk and dazzling eyes, even in the dark.

---

Once you got to the graveyard, you walked along the perimeter, finding a low spot where the fence wasn’t as high. You touch the cold steel beams, black and scraped with years of being out in the elements.

Frankie hops the fence and helps everyone else over. Besides Rudy. And besides Paul, because Paul was so tall, he practically just hurdled over it. Frankie tugs down your uniform when it snags around your upper thighs. You playfully smack him with your flashlight, watching as he shakes his head and smiles crookedly.

You and the other misfits made it to the main part of the cemetery, where the original founders of the town were buried. You walk through a small cloister covered in old grey cobblestone and moss. Ivy wove around cold, wet columns. Birds squawked ominously in the trees above.

“Okay,” you say as you weave through the different rows of headstones overgrown by tall grass with rotting flowers, humming curiously. “Let’s do this.”

Ouija board, planchette, candles. Frankie hands you his lighter, and you shield the wind around the wick.

“Woah,” Rudy said at the sight, quickly shaking his head as his hands fidgeted anxiously at his sides. “Didn’t sign up for no talkin’ board. Fuck no.”

“Sit,” Frankie says with authority, everyone making a weak circle around the board at his command.

Good boy, you think as you look at Frankie.

The group played for as long as you all could, scaring them off one by one on purpose as you guided the planchette around the board with the so-called answers from the dead.

Tina didn’t last past the first few rounds, eagerly asking Paul to walk her back to her car at the diner. Rudy took the opportunity to say he had to head out, leaving just you and Frankie by midnight.

“Such an ass scaring them like that.” Frankie hummed, his cigarette smoke swirling around him with the gentle wind.

“Oh, please.” You scoff as you reach your hand out for his cigarette, watching him share what was left. “You’re the one who made the piece move towards the word raise when Rudy asked the founders how to make the diner better. That’s a bit of emotional manipulation.”

Frankie snuffs up a short laugh, fidgeting with his lighter as he relit a candle that had been blown out from the wind. Suddenly, the rest of the lit candles were blown away as well. It was creepy and made the both of you stop in your tracks. An owl hoots in the distance. You crane your head from left to right, all of a sudden not feeling very alone.

“I’m cold.” You finally say, your legs covered in goosebumps as you shudder at the chill that swept through the graveyard. Fog was sprouting from deeper in the woods that crowded the south side of the cemetery. Perhaps it was karma for scaring off your co-workers, but this was too much, even for you.

Frankie seems unbothered, taking his cigarette back since you were too occupied to enjoy it.

“S’just the wind. No real ghosts.”

You huff and shove at his shoulder as you move to sit on your knees.

“I know there’s no fucking ghosts, asshole.” You say with confidence before flinching hard and hiding your face in Frankie’s shoulder as a bird flapping its wings around the corner makes you cower for a second. You groan in embarrassment as Frankie locks his arm around your waist.

“Scared?” He sneers, flicking his cigarette butt away.

“M’not scared.” Your elbow juts into his ribs, and he releases you.

“Yeah, fuckin’ right.” Frankie scoffs as he watches you collect the items on the grass, shoving them into your backpack in a scatterbrained scurry. It always made you ill when Frankie had the upper hand like he did right now. Made a pit in your stomach.

Frankie could sense your fear, like a shark in the water. But rather than scare the shit out of you, like he knew he could, he decided to lighten the conversation.

“Graveyards don’t necessarily have to be scary, you know.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek and settle down beside him.

“A place littered with people’s rotting bones and corpses? That shit is scary, Frankie.” You correct, but he just shakes his head, smiles, and observes the mismatched gravestones.

“Not really, if you think about it. Lots of couples choose to be buried side by side or even together in the same grave as a sign of eternal love. There are lots of stories from medieval literature about lovers who took a lover’s leap off a cliff or a high place to be with their soulmate in the afterlife so they wouldn’t have to spend another second apart in different universes. People even have weddings in graveyards. There’s lots of good about life and death here.”

Frankie’s eyes droop.

“I don’t think people fear graveyards, or churches, or hospitals, I think they just… fear death.”

Something changes in Frankie’s face, a sadness of sorts. Like he knew a lover that was lost in another universe. Curiosity sparks you, gently bringing your fingers up to graze over the stubble on his cheek with your thumb.

“Well,” you whisper in your close proximity, climbing onto his lap. “I don’t fear death. I fear what’s after death. No one knows what’s next, not even you, old wise one.”

Frankie cracks his signature smile and rolls his eyes, pecking your lips and gently tugging on your lower one as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“You think if I go down on you in this graveyard, any wild spirits will inhabit your pussy?”

You throw back your head and laugh, tugging him to the ground as you lay on your back and hike up your uniform.

“God, I hope not. If you die, you better not haunt my pussy.”

Frankie smirks as he spreads your legs and levels his chest to the ground, kissing and nipping at the inside of your thighs with impatience. “Can’t make any promises, baby.” Pulling your panties to the side, he ducks his head lower to your core. The brim of his hat nudges against your stomach, you watch as it falls discarded to the side on its own as his face sinks over your warm heat.

You hum as his warm body relaxes yours, shuddering lightly as your sticky core becomes exposed to the outside world. Fingers wind into dark chocolate locks, his beard lightly scratches at the inside of your thighs.

“I’m going to taste like work sweat,” you murmur awkwardly, coming to terms with the fact that you worked a full shift without showering yet.

He scoffs, nearly offended, before he flattens his tongue and licks a slow swipe up from your weeping hole to your clit. His tongue parts you and circles around your anxious nub of nerves. You whimper as you fist his waves, fluttering your eyes that were previously taking in the night sky.

“Like tasting you like this,” he murmurs, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread. “So fuckin’ juicy.” He says greedily, yanking you towards him as a gasp leaves your parted lips.

Your stomach twists as he fully envelops you with his mouth, marking his territory with his tongue and spit as he suckles on your clit.

“Fuck- oh my god,” you murmur into the night air. You’re too rowdy to lay still. Especially when his tongue starts darting in and out of your entrance, massaging your tight walls as he goes. You whimper as you sit up on your elbows and watch the master at work, in awe of his devotion to you. More appropriately, to your pussy.

“This isn’t so scary anymore,” you say between panting breaths. “I-I’m looking at the stars, and you’re eating me out in the moonlight- fuck,” your chin tilts up to the sky, feeling your stomach contort with pleasure.

“I know,” he mutters, “kinda romantic.”

“Shut up, Frankie.” You groan as you shove him back to your center, where he shares a breathy laugh between you and your core.

You feel a coil tighten in your abdomen, and you hate to admit it, but he’s given you the best head you’ve ever received. No one makes you cum like he does, and never as hard. It’s Earth-shattering, rousing you, making your heart race.

Frankie pulls his mouth off to slick up two of his fingers through your folds, dripping with arousal. He elicits a whimper from you as he lightly nudges his fingertips against your clit in the process. A muscle behind his jaw twitches as he inches two fingers into your warmth, feeling your walls stretch to allow the intrusion.

All you can think about is how his heavy cock is resting against his thigh, but he had no intention of using it. He was much more determined to make you feel good. The thought makes you melt into the ground, into his touch, into his blind kindness.

You feel awfully close as Frankie starts massaging your walls, but you feel this odd ball of anxiety start to fester in your womb. You’re no longer relaxing. Like a cascade down your body, it shows. Your head twitches, and your jaw closes. Your chest grows tight, as does your stomach. Suddenly, your thighs are closing around his head, and not in a fun way. You whimper quietly and loosen the fingers in his hair.

Frankie’s eyes flick up, slowing his movements and pulling his mouth off your clit. You tip your head down, and confusion crosses over his features. Knit eyebrows, parted lips covered in your arousal. His hold on your thighs loosens, you bite your lip and let out a shaky breath as you look at the moon.

“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he moves to his knees, and you clamber to sit up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry,” you gush awkwardly, closing your eyes and putting one of your hands over your face in embarrassment. “I just- sometimes I can’t finish, I get this weird feeling like someone shined a fucking spotlight on us, and now I can’t- I’m sorry,” you rush breathily, feeling slightly like an ugly monster below him. You smelled like work, and the thought never left your head. You probably tasted like gross sweat and smelled horrid. Even if it wasn’t true, that’s how you felt.

Frankie speaks your name, his silken southern drawl slowing your heart rate as you unshield your face. You felt warmth coursing through your body, your legs still closing at the slightest.

“What’s goin’ on? You can talk to me.” Frankie’s never seen you in the slightest self-conscious. At work, you’re always bustling with an attitude and playfulness. This was different, he could sense the shift from your body language alone.

You sigh and give in, feeling his large hand come to rest over your knee and rub soothing motions into your thigh.

“M’..” you sigh and roll your eyes, opting to shift your focus to the gravestones. “M’worried I don’t taste good.” You mumble.

Frankie slowly smiles at you, which, for whatever reason, sort of pisses you off.

You fight the urge to sit up fully and push your uniform down. “See? I knew I did, just-”

“No, no,” he said with more authority, taking one of your hands and interlocking his fingers with yours. “You don’t. I just wasn’t expectin’ you to say that.”

You frown, which he hates to admit is fucking adorable on you. That little pout of yours.

“What do you mean?”

Frankie fights off a scoff and rolls his eyes a little. “It’s just that every time I’ve gone down on you, it’s after work. I like how you taste no matter what.”

Shyness creeps up the back of your neck, and you fight off a smile. You didn’t realize that he was right. He’s gone down on you thrice now, each time was either during or after work. He clears his throat and continues.

“I like how you taste after work. Right after a shower, there’s no… zest. I’m explaining in cooking terms because that’s what I understand.”

You stifle a giggle and let him go on.

“Work is like your seasoning. I’m sure you taste good all the time, but I like it best right now. I like it because it’s you.”

Your chest swells at his words, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling too big. There’s that weird feeling in your heart again. The weird one you get when you’re with Frankie, and he talks like that. You sigh quietly and clutch the grass at your sides, anxiously fiddling with it and twirling it around your fingers.

“How did I taste after you went down on me in my truck after our shift?” He raises a fair point, cocking his eyebrow as his fingers cascade down the inside of your thigh again, and you slowly part your legs.

“I liked it. A lot.” You whisper with a smile, to which he graciously returns.

“I liked it, too.” Frankie sneers at you, forcing you to roll your eyes in return. “Can I try one more time? Want you to feel good. Wanna swallow your cum, baby.” His words are absolute filth. You’re not sure if you have it in you to speak, so you nod in a haze.

“Lemme hear you say it, princess. Tell me like a good girl.”

Your stomach swells, and you force out a weak sigh, already falling into a gentle lull as his fingers coast around your thighs, but not where you desperately need him.

“Fuck you.” You say with fire. He sees it in your eyes, he fucking loves it. “Touch me, Frankie. Please.”

That’s his girl. The one he knows.

“Lie back, baby girl. Let me take care of you.”

You shyly smile and find the ground again, head to the grass as you close your eyes, and he returns with a new vote of confidence. So do you.

Frankie moves to lie down on his stomach, you part your legs enough for his head. You take in a sharp breath as he touches your still desperate bundle of nerves. You swallow the lump in your throat. He kisses your clit delicately, and you already struggle to breathe. He focuses solely on your clit with long, beautiful strokes from his tongue that massage you into a dreamy state of mind. He’s delicate.

Now you’re really off to the races.

Your back lightly arches as he does sweet circles around your anxious clit, feeling that coil once again tighten in your abdomen. His hand moves to hike up your uniform once more, unveiling your tummy to the nighttime air. You’re sure you should be freezing cold right now, but all you can feel is an inferno at the center of your core. His fingers gently nudge once more at your entrance, his eyes flicking to yours for consent. You quickly nod but then remember his little rule.

“Y-Yes, please,” you whimper.

He reenters and pumps his fingers a few times to allow your walls to relax, humming softly in appreciation. Then he fucking curls them inside of you. You gasp as the tips of his fingers find your spongy spot, and it feels like a bolt of lightning strikes your core.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper, which only fuels Frankie.

“Here?” You don’t even think he has to ask because you’re breathless. He settles for your chaotic nods and the way your fingers desperately move from clutching the grass to his chocolate locks.

His other hand snakes around your thigh and uses your exposed stomach to his advantage. Or maybe it's yours. You’re not really sure what he’s doing, adding pressure in different spots to your lower abdomen. Then it clicks.

Your breath is robbed from your lungs, and you rut your hips against his fingers, grinding desperately to stay right in that spot. This new friction was driving you mad, running you up a wall, and causing a gush of arousal to flood over his fingers.

Your orgasm is running a fever inside you, making you hot, losing your thoughts. It’s different from anything you’ve ever felt. He’s- oh god.

“Frankie, you’re gonna make me,” you clench your eyes closed and whimper loudly, feeling him add more pressure to that perfect spot.

“Fucking squirt for me, baby,” Frankie’s devilishly deep tone sparks a shock to your core, causing you to cry out in a bliss of agony. A harsh wave starts to form, crashing over your entire body with only seconds left. This was it. You could either run away, put the distance between you and Frankie for good, call it coworkers, and nothing more. Or let this feeling bind you to something more.

Panic rises in you, but you don’t have time to act on it.

All the tension in your body and the thoughts in your head disappear into euphoria. With a sharp gasp, your back arches, and you just… spill. It almost felt like you had to pee, but you knew it wasn’t exactly the same. You burst like a broken pipe. Your heart rate is through the roof. It makes you lose your hearing, and everything sounds muffled.

“Frankie!” You moan out, feeling your thighs tremble around his head as you soak him. But he’s not stopping, like he wasn’t fucking done with you. He’s still chasing your orgasm, which arrives shortly after he suckles on your clit. You’re still too shaky to fully register what has happened to you.

Frankie hums in satisfaction, lapping up your cum-squirt mixture. You’re so sensitive, you can feel your heels lazily dig into the ground to try and move away, and the fingers you have knotted in his hair are ripping him away from his treat.

“Please,” he grunts, “lemme finish, taste so goddamn perfect.” You shyly grin at the moon and settle, letting him lap up the mess he’s made of you with a blush hot on your neck.

Your vision is stars, a hazy feeling corrupting your brain. You’ve just fully collapsed in front of him, you’re not sure how he expects you to walk back to the diner after this.

Frankie puts your panties back into place once he’s had his fair share of you, pulling your uniform down and opting to lay beside you. The two of you stare at the stars as you relax on the grass once more. Frankie wraps an arm around your shoulders and lets you curl into his side.

“That was…” you try to piece together any sort of sentence to let him know it was good. Better than good, it was fucking incredible.

“I know.” He says with his signature goading attitude. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking. So you punch his stomach lightly and smile into his pec.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know that, too.” He kisses the crown of your head, and you settle on watching the stars.

They look like a cloudy mess to you at first. A jumble of the universe loosely tossed into the sky with no regard. It makes you feel small and pointless. There’s an entire world out there, but when everyone looks up, we all see the same. A disarray of stars and the moon.

You wonder what he sees, what he thinks. His shirt smells of pine and cigarettes. His cologne-sweat mixture creates a tingle in your chest. You’ve seen so much of him, more than you ever did before in the years of working together. You know he likes to cook, and he’s damn good at it too, plays jazz on vinyl, smokes Marlboro Gold cigarettes, likes the car freshener that looks like a little tree, and he likes you.

It’s a fact, not a matter of opinion. He looks at you like you put those stars in the sky. Not God or whoever created the universe. You. And it was fucking frightening to know someone cared about you like that.

There’s that horrid feeling again, squeezing at your heart.

“I want to get out of here.” You whisper with uncertainty. Rain clouds start to take away the night sky once more, a signal to flee before the droplets become a downpour.

“Okay. We can pack up our stuff and head out-.”

“No,” you interject, turning your head to look up at him, your feet weakly finding the ground and dragging the zipper along your backpack until it was shut. “You can stay if you want, I need to get home.”

Frankie scoffs incredulously and sits up anyway, making you more annoyed.

“M’not just gonna let you go off alone in the middle of the night. What are you, a fuckin’ lunatic?”

Anger bubbles in your chest as you make your way to the fence. “Oh, fuck off, Frankie.” You curse as your sneakers crunch twigs and fallen orange leaves.

“Okay, hot shot, calm the fuck down.” He says with anger laced in his voice. Good. He finally sees you as Miss Not So Perfect. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” He asks as he follows you nonetheless, his long legs carrying him at a much faster pace, catching up to you in no time at all.

“I’m going home, and you’re not coming with me.” You say as your short height meets the fence, stopping you in your tracks. Well, fuck.

You take in a deep breath through your nose, turning to Frankie, who has an eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed like a smug bastard.

“Well, go right on ahead. M’not stoppin’ you.”

No, you’re not, but this stupid fence is.

You pout and look from side to side, trying to find a way around this. A way around him. By the time you glance back at his face, his expression has melted from anger to sadness. You felt like you had just kicked a fucking puppy.

You can see it in his eyes. He’s asking himself, what did I do? What the hell happened back there?

There’s no time to think or care about how he feels; the wind is whipping your hair around, and the leaves dance around your ankles.

There’s a gap in the fence that you end up using. Frankie trails behind you the entire way back to the diner, but he doesn’t speak to you. You feel like you might throw up, the ups and downs of tonight were giving you the spins.

You arrive at the diner’s dreary parking lot, and only your beater car and Frankie’s rusted truck are parked side by side. You push your tongue against your cheek as you fiddle with your keys, trying to unlock your car door. You think rain lands on your cheek. You quickly wipe it away and feel its warmth, realizing it’s a tear.

Frankie waits by his tailgate, arms crossed, a walled-up expression on his face as he watches you struggle. Despite you pissing him off, he watches you like that damn German Shepherd again, making sure you get into your car and no one bothers you. You finally stab the right key into the door and yank it open, standing at the entrance. You swivel on your heel and glare at him.

“What do you want from me, huh?” You ask, the dead of silence filling your ears and polluting the distance between you two with tension. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know.” He grumbles. A muscle behind his jaw twitches as you near closer.

“Bull-fucking-shit, Frankie. I don’t know if you want a fuck buddy, a girlfriend, whatever it is, we’re keeping it casual, and that’s it. Or maybe nothing at all would be better.” You say defensively, crossing your own arms and mirroring his body language.

“Did I give you the wrong impression that I wanted you to be my girlfriend? Did I ever even fuckin’ ask you to be my person?”

You scoff and feel a scraping in your stomach. No.

“No,” he continues with your silence, “So why are you acting like I want something more from you?”

The silence settles as rain pelts the top of your head. Pain is laced on your face, feeling exposed.

“You don’t?” You meekly ask, trying to make your face strong when all you want to do is crumble.

He hesitates but ultimately shakes his head and shrugs. Hurt crashes into your chest, you feel like you’re in that horrible dream where you’re endlessly falling, unable to wake up.

“No.” He finally says again. He looks off to the highway, listening to the gentle humming of cars passing in the distance.

You can’t put into words how you’re feeling. Confusion the most of all. You could have sworn that he… You thought that maybe he… No. He said no, he didn’t want anything more from you. He didn’t see you like that, like someone he wanted to be with permanently, he saw you as an opportunity. You can’t deny you saw the same one.

So, fine. The line in the sand had been drawn with anger and self-loathing.

“Good.” You finally muster up, shrugging casually and returning to your car. “M’glad we’re on the same page.”

Frankie finds comfort in staring at the cold, wet ground. "Yeah. Yeah, me too, princess.”

Your lip snarls as you slam your door loudly and peel out of the parking lot.

All you could think about was how you broke your rules for him, went against your better judgment, and fooled around with him anyway. Maybe a little part of you was looking for something out of Frankie, but you stopped everything in its tracks to save yourself from this stupid feeling of opening up to someone again. You ruined it. You chucked what could have been into the dumpster out of fear of the unknown.

Despite leaving him in your rearview mirror, that feeling in your heart still squeezes, maybe even harder now. And it hurts far worse than anything you could have imagined.

---

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scorpiussage · 4 months

Text

Written in the Stars (Jonathan Crane/OC)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/OC

Summary: Despite what many may think, Jonathan Crane does in fact have a soul mark – he’s just not particularly thrilled about it. (Soulmates AU where a persons first words to you are written somewhere on your body)

Warnings: Awkward shenanigans, smut

Jonathan Crane is seven years old when his soul mark appears. He’s huddled under a pew, locked in the old abandoned church by his grandmother for a sin he doesn’t remember doing. A sharp burning pain erupts on his forearm, different from the bruising lashes that decorate his back. He holds his arm up to the dim moonlight streaming in through the dirty window and tries to make out the words.

Whatever he thought his soul mark would say, is no where close to what it actually says.

…

Most people that know Jonathan Crane, also assume that he doesn’t have a soul mark. He’s bitter and mean and not at all what people look for in a soulmate. Despite these perceived flaws, he does have one.

A soulmate that is. Somewhere out there and he dreads ever having to meet them.

He’s never been very lucky, though.

…

Jonathan is exhausted, injured, and coming down off of his own fear toxin. His hideout is on the other side of town, too far away to get there right now, so he seeks the first open establishment he can find.

“Hi, welcome to Rats-O-Cheese, the pizza-play restaurant for kids. My name is Y/N-Mouse, what can I get for you?” Is the disinterested monologue that greets him when he enters the building. On his forearm the words he’s been steadfastly ignoring all his life burns.

Fuck.

Now, Jonathan is not actually sure what one is supposed to do with a soulmate. Probably not kidnap them, but that’s what he’s done.

He glances over at the tied up, and very irate, waitress and tries to figure out his next steps. He winces when her muffled shrieks interrupt his train of thought. Despite the gag, she’s still hell bent on chewing him out.

God, he’s exhausted.

…

Jonathan is in high school when the restaurant chain Rats-O-Cheese opens up, advertising itself as a fantastical arcade restaurant for children.

He spends the next several weeks trying to erase his soul mark out of embarrassment.

…

“I’m going to take off the gag. You can scream as loud as you like, no one will hear you,” Jonathan informs his soulmate, and then adds under his breath, “for my ears’ sake, don’t scream.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She snarls at him as soon as her mouth is free.

He considers that question and notes to himself that he actually has a lot problems.

Y/N, on the other hand, has a fairly average life. She’s an only child in a two parent, middle class household. She’s not top of her class, not bottom either, in both high school and college. Just average.

Her near-neurotic obsession with being normal probably has something to do with her soul mark words.

“If you fight or scream, I’m going to inject you with this drug.”

Who the fuck says that to someone?

It sort of tracks that she’d end up with a psychopath for a soulmate, and not a very successful one at that if his injured, disheveled state is anything to go by.

“So, like, what’s your thing?” She ends up asking after watching him putter around his grungy little hideout for a while.

He pauses and looks over at her with a cocked eyebrow, “My thing?”

She nods, “Yeah, you know, your villain thing. All the weirdos in this city have one. Like that guy with the riddles!”

Psycho-soulmate actually rolls his eyes at her and snarks, “Please don’t compare me to the likes of Edward Nygma and his ridiculous neurosis.”

Y/N doesn’t really think this man has any room to be throwing stones, but she keeps that to herself.

…

Statistics say that a majority of people meet their soulmates during their college years. It’s something the general population is obsessed with – making movies, music, and art about the phenomenon since the dawn of time. Jonathan, in juxtaposition, isn’t interested. In fact, he would prefer to never meet them.

He’s never needed anyone but himself and he doesn’t see that changing anytime soon. Especially considering the, frankly, ridiculous words that are on his forearm.

In what universe would he ever step foot into a Rats-O-Cheese?

…

Psycho-soulmate determines after several hours tied up, that she’s no longer a flight risk and unties her. He does give her a stern look though, and tells her, “There’s no where you would run that I couldn’t find you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t run – got it.”

She uses her newfound freedom to wander about his weird warehouse/hideout. There’s a very disturbing lone medical examination table with metal restraints that she edges around. Apart from the few pieces of actual furniture (a couch and a futon) it looks like a stereotypical horror movie science lab.

She approaches a mannequin that’s dressed in a frayed suit and that has a burlap sack-mask over its head. Ohhh, so this is his thing, creepy scarecrow.

She remarks as much out loud and Psycho-soulmate makes a loud clattering noise behind her, dropping whatever he was doing in surprise.

“It’s for science!” He snarls, his ears turning pink in embarrassment.

“Yeahhhh, okay.”

Then she turns back around to look at him, “By the way, what’s your name? I’ve just been calling you ‘Psycho-soulmate’ in my head this whole time.”

He gives her a dry look for that remark and introduces himself. Man, that name sounds awfully familiar.

Then it hits her, “Oh! You’re the guy that broke everyone out of Arkham!”

“Well, yes, but it was a dire set of circumstances.”

He’s busied himself with his chemistry set again and as Y/N looks more closely at him, she notes that he’s very handsome – the kind of face that would sell well in a boyband line up. He’s also lithe in way that reveals how much time he spends hunched over his experiments. She has to wonder how a guy like that ends up as Gotham’s latest super villain.

He sighs loudly and sets down the beaker he was currently fussing over, “I can feel you staring at me. Just ask your inane questions.”

“No questions, just bored is all.”

Jonathan’s eyes roll heavenward, as if he’s praying for the irritation to end. Well, hey, he’s the one who kidnapped her, he gets to live with those consequences.

…

Jonathan is, surprisingly, a gentleman and offers her the futon to sleep on while he takes the couch. He only has a few changes of clothes here so she ends up sleeping in one of his button down shirts. She waits until his back is turned before she brings the collar up to her nose and inhales his delicious, masculine scent.

She has no idea what cologne he uses but goddamn does she love it.

A sort of pattern settles over them after a few days there. Jonathan will make the trek in the early hours of the morning to get them both breakfast, waking Y/N up with the clanging of the door when he returns.

Once they’ve eaten, he immediately dives into his experiments and leaving Y/N to her own devices. All he has to do in this place is read his vast array of medical textbooks and journals, so that’s what she does.

After nearly a week of this, she finally snaps, “When can we fucking leave?”

“Language,” Jonathan remarks, carefully finishing his task of measuring out chemicals before turning his attention to her, “Why would we leave?”

“Uh, because this isn’t an actual livable place and there’s nothing to do?”

“Of course I have a child for a soulmate,” he grumbles before getting up, “We won’t be leaving. But, I’ll see if I can procure more suitable entertainment for you.”

Honestly, that’s better than nothing.

And she does not squeal in delight at the stack of romance novels he returns with the following morning, she’s just excited to be able to read something that isn’t about psychology.

…

The phenomenon of soulmates is a fascinating one, Jonathan notes. One he’d be more than interested in studying if his research into fear wasn’t so pressing.

Hell, even Edward Nygma has a soulmate–Julian Day.

Jonathan’s own soulmate is interesting to say the least. She’s annoying and childish and loud, the opposite of himself in every way possible.

She might be growing on him.

He has a bit of an accident while mixing up a new batch of fear toxin. In those moments, he found himself far more concerned for Y/N than himself. Worried that he may have injured her by mistake.

He hates it.

He’s never wanted a soulmate and certainly never the feelings that come along with one.

If anything were to ever happen to her, he would burn the entire world to the ground. He can no longer imagine his life without her in it and it’s driving him insane.

…

It’s on a particularly quiet night, months into Y/N’s captivity, that Jonathan breaks out his stash of very expensive whiskey. He’s never been one to drink, but he finds that he’s agreeing with Y/N, he’s so bored lately.

The flush of alcohol looks pretty on her face in the warm, dim light of the warehouse. He can almost pretend that they’re out on a date, enjoying each other’s company like normal people.

It’s her that kisses him first, though.

Her lips are soft and she tastes like the whiskey they’re drinking and he can’t seem to get enough. The euphoric feeling that comes over him is even better than his fear toxin, he thinks. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer and onto his lap where she fits so perfectly that it’s no wonder the universe chose her for him.

She breaks away from the kiss, peppering his jaw and neck with follow up ones, “God, you’re such a freak, but I really, really like you.”

The admission makes him more feral, gripping her impossibly closer and yanking at her clothes. He needs her in a way that he’s never needed anyone before. He feels like he might die if he doesn’t get her naked.

She helps him remove her top, her breasts already bare as she’s forgone wearing a bra. He groans and buries his face between them, licking and kissing up her sternum back to those addicting lips. Her hips are grinding down onto him, lining up her core with his erection with unerring accuracy. Even through the layers of their clothes, he can feel how wet she is, how warm he knows she’ll be.

He pushes her down onto the cushions of the couch, slotting himself between her legs and yanking at the button of her jeans. Her hips lift helpfully, allowing his hand to slip them down her thighs.

He was never a very sexual being, always preferring the company of books rather than people, but he can see in this moment what he’s been missing all these years. There’s something so electrifying about touching and being touched by another person, something that sends delightful shivers all up and down his spine.

He wants to own her entirely, and for her to do the same to him.

Her deft fingers slip down his torso towards his groin, cupping his cock in her hand sweetly. He groans and the feel and his hips stutter down to grind against her palm.

“Can I see?” She asks him, and it hits him in that moment that she never does anything without confirming his consent. He’s never had anyone do that for him before, his body always being the subject of either outright abuse or covetous leers. He helps her open his pants, letting those pretty fingers of hers slip past the hem to wrap around him.

His eyes roll back as she grips him firmly, pumping his cock better than he’s ever done himself.

Once he gains some coherency back, he makes quick work of removing her pants and underwear entirely.

She’s bare before him, her most intimate place glistening and beckoning him forward. He’s never once had the desire nor fantasized about going down on a woman before, but he can’t stop himself from getting a taste. He runs his tongue between her lips, gathering the slick from her hole and dragging it up to her clit.

He groans against her as the flavor registers, he already knows he’s never going to get enough of this, of her. Her essence is all he’s ever going to think about from now to the end of time.

Her fingers bury themselves into his hair, tugging and grasping as he devours her. His name is being chanted, spurring him on to torture that little bud at the top of her sex.

He can literally taste her orgasm as it gushes out of her, coating his lips and chin and it about makes him finish himself.

Sitting up, he fists himself, hurrying to line himself up with her opening. Still coming down from her high, she mewls as he sinks into her, the walls of her cunt sucking him in as if it’s welcoming him home. He doesn’t think he ever wants to part from her, doesn’t ever want to draw his cock away from her. He pushes himself as deep as possible before drawing back and pushing back in.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him down so that their foreheads press. Somehow this is far more intimate that literally being inside of her and it makes him flush with how flustered it makes him.

He doesn’t last long but he forgets to be embarrassed about it because he’s never felt so good in his life. He never wants this feeling to end.

He settles beside her, keeping himself firmly tucked into her tight heat.

On her ribs, right beneath her heart, are his words and proof that they were meant for each other.

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