welcome 2 my twisted mind

You glance up from the magazine you're reading on the counter.

"Hi there."

He bolts back out the door. The chime above it was still ringing from when opened it in the first place; it didn't even have time to settle where he was in and out so fast.

You'd say this was unsual but no, this happens more often than people would think. Most customers make it at least a few steps inside, though. You chalk it down to bad luck and go back to your article.

You don't expect him to come again the next day. Your gaze flickers up and you're definitely surprised but you make a conscious choice not to acknowledge him. Your plan seems to work and this time, he manages to make it to the first aisle before he turns round and leaves again.

He comes in every day and, every day, gets a little deeper into the store. You decide that ignoring him is the right call. It seems like even being beheld in a place like this is too much for him to bear so you just sort of… pretend he's not there.

That's not to say you don't let your eyes flicker over to him every now and then, when you're sure he's not looking. You like what you see. He's well-groomed and well-dressed, always with a cute and flattering knitted jumper on. He doesn't really seem to know what he wants - then again, he can barely bring himself to look at any of the wares you have on offer - and you think he's not the kind of customer who'd respond well to a frank conversation about that sort of thing. It's best to let him figure it out on his own.

On the tenth day, he does. He snatches something off of one of the shelves and practically runs to the checkout, where he throws the package down in front of you like it's going to bite him.

A fleshlight. You shouldn't be surprised. Simple, reliable, good to come inside. You ring him up without holding eye contact… but you do add a bottle of lube into the black plastic bag when you pack it up for him.

"On the house," you say, because damn it, you really want this guy to have a nice orgasm and you've become sort of fond of him over these past couple of weeks. He chokes out a noise which could be a thank you and flees out the door.

A beat.

Then he sprints back in, grabs the bag with his new fleshlight that he totally forgot to pick up from the counter, and sprints out again.

"What a strange man," you say aloud to yourself, voice full of poorly-contained lust.

You think that will probably be the last you see of Mr Cute-Stache.

"I don't know, Karin," you sigh down the phone. It's trapped between your ear and your shoulder so you can twiddle the cord with one hand and do stocks with the other. Your oldest friend makes a disappointed noise on the other side of the line.

"Come on, I wouldn't try to set you up with just anybody! He's a really nice guy. Kind of shy, but I think you'd help him come out of his shell."

"I don't know. You know how people are when they find out I run this place. They think I'm gonna stick a dildo in them on the first date, or make them come before we even kiss. It's just… they make a lot of assumptions."

"Lars isn't like that! He's sweet, honestly. Plus he has this sort of… he's a little touch-averse, so he wouldn't expect anything from you at all. Just one dinner. Or even one coffee! For me, please?"

You groan, because you know you'll give in to Karin. She usually knows best. She was the one who gave you the push to start up your shop, and it's been the best decision of your life. How bad can her brother-in-law be? What have you got to lose from one date?

"Alright, fine. If he wants to meet, let's do it."

"Oh yay! This is so exciting, I'll—" the sound of a baby crying in the background interrupts her, and she goes from matchmaker-friend to cooing mom in a heartbeat. "Oh no, Amelia, it's okay! We're just trying to set your Uncle Lars up, it's no big deal…"

You laugh. "I'll let you go. Just tell me where to be and when."

"Okay, sounds good! I'll talk to Lars and hash out the details for you. Awww, did you poop your pants?"

You assume the last part is directed at her infant daughter and not at you, so you hang up the phone with a chuckle. What the hell. You might as well see where this goes.

Where it goes is a local diner one lunchtime. Low-pressure, low-expectation, just two people grabbing a meal and having a talk to see if they hit it off. So why are you so nervous? Why do you keep tugging down the hem of your shirt and smoothing it out, like a little lucky ritual? It's just a coffee, maybe even a coffee and a sandwich, it's not like anything wild is going to happen.

Karin told you Lars would be wearing a brown jacket and a blue sweater. You see the figure sitting at a booth, fiddling with one of the salt shakers.

Then you clock his mustache.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Lars looks up and sees you, and you think he might be liable to actually run away again. His hand goes still, eyes go wide, and he freezes like a deer in the headlights. For a moment the two of you just stare at each other. It's been a couple of weeks since he walked into your shop but there's no mistaking it: sex-store retailer and sex-store customer have been reunited in a warm family diner.

You hold your hands up to show you're not a threat and carefully slink into the other side of the booth. His fingers are tapping now, relentlessly drumming against the table. He might be about to cry.

"Lars?" you ask. He manages the tiniest, stiffest nod. "Hi. Uh. Sorry. If I'd have known, I'd have never…"

You trail off, because… wouldn't you? You thought he was attractive when he was snooping down the aisles and nothing has changed since then. He is hot. Strange, but hot. Perhaps, to you, hot because he is strange.

"… I'm glad to be here with you. Karin said you were really nice and that I'd like you a lot," is what you settle on instead. This is just enough to knock him out of his stupor and he finally looks you in the eye for the first time, ever.

He has nice eyes.

"Oh," is what he manages. A beat. "She said… I'd like you, too."

His fingers slow. He's still nervous, but less likely to bolt.

"And anything… anything done my shop is private. It doesn't leave the walls."

That makes him actually relax. He lets out a breath he must have been holding for some time and his shoulders sag with the relief of it.

"Do you want a coffee?" he asks after a long pause. You smile.

"I'd love that."

You do have a coffee, and then another, then the promised sandwiches. He has pastrami on rye and you go for a grilled cheese which he eyes up. He's too nervous to take your offered bite, so you rip off a tiny corner and place it on the edge of his plate instead. Karin said he had that touch thing, right? You want to be mindful of where his comfort zone lies.

He stares at you after that, a little awestruck, and you think with that one simple gesture you might have won him over completely.

So you go out again, for a walk around the park the next weekend, steaming hot chocolates grasped in gloved hands (he pays for them. He paid at the diner, too, despite your offer to foot the bill). Then you go out again, after that, to the movie theatre in the next town. And then again, and again, and again…

You rarely talk about your work, except to say business is going well, and you certainly don't discuss the fleshlight. But he does touch you. Firstly it's just a pinkie finger linked through yours. Then he works up the nerve to hold your hand. On your third cinema date he puts his arm around you. Some dates after that, he manages to kiss you goodnight. It's quick and clumsy but it's maybe one of the best kisses you've ever had, and you can't get the tickly feeling of his mustache out of your mind.

He seems to be able to get over his issues with touch, slowly but surely. "It usually hurts," he confides one evening as you tangle your legs together, "but not with you. With you it's… good. Nice."

Ever so slowly, as you get used to each other's physical presence, you let him explore you. It's clear he has no experience whatsoever when it comes to intimate relationships - you gather that's why he bought the toy - so you're a willing subject for his experimentations. Nothing penetrative, not yet, but he traces your nipples when you take your shirt off for him, and he lets you palm him through his jeans until he's so hard he has to run outside and chop up an entire tree.

He's so fucking endearing.

A handful of slow, sweet months go by as Lars becomes your boyfriend-proper and the two of you fall into syrupy love with each other. Your affection is so lovey-dovey that people can't help but comment on what a wonderful - if unusual - pair you make. Lars seems more confident with you by his side, too. Karin was right again. You should never have doubted her. Long live Queen Karin and her exceptional skills in matchmaking!

It's late. You're staying over at Lars' and the two of you are snuggled on the sofa watching something on TV. It's not the first time you've spent the night, though it's rare anything racy happens and that is a-ok with you. Cuddling up next to him and falling asleep to his little snores is about as perfect as it can get in your book.

Lars is tracing little patterns on your arm. When he pauses, you can tell he's thinking.

"What's up, honey?"

A moment passes as he tries to find the shape of the words he wants to let fall off his tongue.

"I never used it."

"Used what?" But oh, what a silly question, because you have a pretty damn good idea what he's talking about.

"The… the toy. I never took it out the box. I was… nervous."

You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, and when you meet his blown-out pupils, you know what it is he's asking of you. What he's trusting you with.

"Do you want me to show you how?"

His hesitation lasts but a second before he nods.

You're directed to his wardrobe where you find the black crumpled bag hidden in its corner as if it was thrown there in a fit of shame. You take the toy out, and the lube, and carefully cross back over to Lars, grabbing a teatowel on the way for afterwards. When you get to your knees, he gasps.

"It's okay. If you want me to stop, if it gets too much, you just tell me, Lars. Tap my shoulder. I won't mind."

He knows you won't. He knows you so well by now and is so happy to put himself in your hands. He gives another little nod and forces himself to relax as you begin to massage his dick.

You've only seen it a couple of times, usually in low light and under the covers, but you know he's big. He doesn't know that, though, and it's pretty cute. So you take a moment to enjoy his fat cock through his pants, smiling gently as you feel it fill out to its full size beneath your careful touch.

"Okay?"

"Okay," he confirms, so you slowly begin to undo his fly. He yelps a little under his breath but lifts his hips so you're more easily able to pull his slacks down his thighs along with his boxer-briefs. His erection stands upright and hits against his stomach, thankfully not leaving a stain on his knitted sweater.

"I'm going to put some lube on you now, Lars."

"A-alright."

You squirt a generous amount of it into your dominant palm and start to stroke him properly. He squeezes his eyes shut tight at the newness of the experience but gives no indication that he wants to back out. So you keep going, smiling at the way your fingers only just meet around his girth, playing with speeds and grip-strength. Everything is good for him, it seems. Feather-light touches have him gasping, firm ones make him groan. It's a lovely symphony you're able to pull from your Lars' lungs. You wonder what other pretty sounds he can make.

When you let go of him he whines and his hips seem to absent-mindedly chase you, but you soothe him with a kiss dropped to his knee as you begin to lube up the toy.

"Just gotta get it ready, Lars. Nice and wet for your fat cock."

He never knows how to take those sorts of compliments, so he just stutters on a needy noise. Another kiss to his leg as you hook the hole of the fleshlight open. It's pretty standard: a peach-coloured pussy with realistic labia. Nothing new for you, but everything new for Lars. You make a conscious effort to slow down as you grip his cock and line him up.

"You good for me to put you inside it?" you ask. The straightforward dirtiness of your words has him spluttering and unable to meet your gaze again. He nods so fast that his face is a blur of beetroot-red.

You slide the fake cunt over his tip and Lars yowls. You pause, waiting until he can adjust, until his breathing slows from rapid to just fast. Then you slowly lower it the rest of the way and for a moment you're worried he's not going to fit because he's that big, but the toy has your back, and it dutifully seats his entire cock.

"There we go," you hum. "Doing so good for me, Lars. So good."

His balled hands threaten to rip a hole in the sofa's upholstery. The two of you sit there, allowing him to feel every tight inch of it.

"How does it feel?"

"G-good," he acknowledges. "W-will…"

"Hm?"

"Will it f-feel… this good… with y-you?"

Oh, that goes straight between your thighs. He asks it so earnestly that you can't help but fall a little bit deeper in love.

"It'll feel different. Warmer, probably. But we don't need to rush into that. I just want you to enjoy this for now, okay, honey?"

He nods one more time and lets you fuck him properly with it.

You don't go too fast, not at first, he's already excited enough as it is. No need to torture the poor man. Instead you lazily drag the toy up and down his shaft and admire the way the lube drips down into his neatly-trimmed pubic hair and lands on his sac in a little puddle. If you thought he was up to it, you'd lean forwards and lick it up. That might actually kill him though.

When he can take more, you speed up, and he whimpers.

"Good?"

"S-so good… it's… you're…"

He loses control over his sentence as it careens off into stammered, nonsensical praise. From the way his hips twitch and his breath hitches, you think he's about to finish.

"You can come, Lars. Come into this pussy for me."

He does, with a long, ragged moan. Warm spend spills out from around the opening in a salaciously delicious way, and even when he's made a puddle on the sofa he doesn't stop. He comes for what must be a solid twenty seconds before he's totally spent.

Oh so carefully you remove the toy from his cock and wipe him clean with the teatowel. When you gather him into your arms he automatically seeks out the warm, safe space of the place where your shoulder meets his neck so he can bury his face there.

"Was that what you thought it would be, Lars?" you whisper as you stroke his hair.

"Better… because it was with you," he replies, and if you weren't head-over-heels before, you certainly are now.

Ryland: I think it depends on how bratty you’ve been. If you’ve been good but just let a swear slip out, it’s “language, pup.” In a firm but gentle voice, accompanied by a short tug on your leash.

If you’ve been an absolute brat, oh you’re in for it. Say “fuck” one time and he’s pulling you over his lap, pulling your jeans down and spanking your ass until you’re crying. He’ll make you count, too.

“Bad girl. What did I say about swearing, hm? Pups don’t swear.” As his hand cracks across your ass.

Driver: I see him as the type to make sure you definitely won’t do that again. He’ll give you a look, eyebrow slightly quirked, and say “and you were being so good for me.” Before edging you for hours. He’ll only let you cum when you promise that you’ve learned your lesson, legs shaking and tears streaming down your face.

Lars: He’s probably the softest of the bunch. “Language, sweetheart.” With a little frown. He’ll sit you in his lap and kiss you breathless until you’re desperate, then he’ll deny you for the night. “I’m sorry, but you have to learn your lesson.”

Noah: He’d sigh deeply and shake his head. “That mouth of yours, darlin…” before kissing you to wash your mouth out. He’d tug your collar gently to keep you close, his other hand on your hip. Then he’d fuck you deep and slow, keeping you on the edge and murmuring “good girls don’t talk like that.”

Holland: depends on how drunk he is! It’s either a look and a tsk or a “the fuck did you just say?” before he has you choking on his cock, his belt attached to your collar as a makeshift leash. “Dirty mouthed brat,” he’ll mutter, forcing the tip down your throat until you gag, drool dripping down your chin.

Luke: another “it depends” but… I’m gonna give you this. One slip up and his hand is gripping your chin, making you look him in the eyes. He’ll lean in close and growl “that mouth has better fucking uses” before forcing you down onto your knees, one hand fisting into your hair to keep you still as he feeds his cock past your lips. He’ll use you as he pleases until tears are running down your cheeks then pull out to cum on your face. “Will you do that again? No? That’s what I thought.”

Colt: He’d stop and tilt his head at you, quirking an eyebrow. “You wanna repeat that, pretty?” and when you shake your head he’ll chuckle. “Cute.”

He’ll make you suck him off, thrusting lightly. “That’s it, use that pretty mouth right. Get me nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

"Open your mouth."

The velvety voice fades you into consciousness, slipping from the gentle grasps of sleep. You'd been dreaming of a nicer time. One with sunlight streaming in from windows, the cool breeze tousling your curtains, and fresh lilacs that would grow in the backyard. The visage slowly becomes fuzzy until it's invisible.

Your breath catches. In the dark, the only thing you can see is the glowing cherry of his cigarette. Even that is blurry. You blink to shift things into focus. Do it once more. Edges start to sharpen and shapes start to become apparent.

Luke's tatted fingers cradles the cigarette, pulling it away from his mouth just long enough for a plume of smoke to infiltrate the room. Pale moonlight streams in through the window on the far wall. It offers some sense of illumination; more like a candle than a light.

"mhmph—"

"I said open your fucking mouth, sweetie." His voice lowers to a whisper, sounding like gravel.

He leans over to peer down at your still sleepy form. Grogily, you watch him tuck his cigarette between his lips. Luke uses his free hand to tap against your cheek. It's not to hurt you; he would never do that. It's about how he was being serious.

There's a dull sting ebbing away now. Your lips part just barely, fatigue making a cozy home in your limbs. The sheets were so soft against your skin. They smelled like the cologne Luke kept on his dresser. Warmth surrounded you like a bubble; easily seducing you to succumb to your exhaustion.

Your eyes do flutter shut—lashes tickling your cheeks. But you feel a heavy weight of something running over the seam of your lips. It snaps you from the throes of sleep.

Snapping your eyes open, the light gives you enough ability to see Luke fisting his cock. He's looking down lazily at you through hooded eyes. A cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth.

"Just relax." He murmurs, continuing to rub the tip of his cock over your mouth. A soft sigh spills from his throat. "Keep that mouth open f'me."

You should probably be disgusted. Should probably launch up and berate him for being a perv. But you don't. A wave of arousal shoots down your abdomen.

Luke watches as your tongue flicks out, caressing his length. It was unexpected. This was the very last reaction he'd expected from you, but God, he fucking loves it. His fist migrates down his shaft. Each time he brought the head of him to your mouth, your tongue licked at more of him.

"That's my girl." A throaty groan slips from his mouth, the sound escalating into something breathier. His hips have shallowly pressed closer to you.

Your lips wrap around the head of his cock, warmth enveloping him. He swears you work your mouth better when you've just woken up. Each shallow thrust makes you take him a little deeper.

Luke inhales his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he rocks his hips. The smoke gets held in his throat as he gazes down at you.

Your cheek is pressed against the pillow, jaw slacking more with each inch he gets down your throat. Your tongue flicks at the vein going up the underside of him, humming contentedly as he stutters.

It's not long before you're taking all you can. Each thrust has his tip nudging the back of your throat. Noises leave his mouth that make your thighs press together beneath the sheets.

Luke's hand cups your jaw, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "Look so good like this." He moans, a deep rumbling sound in his chest. "Doin' perfect."

A sleepy hum vibrates around his length, sending shock waves through his nervous system. His head gets thrown back. Though you can't see his face, you know his eyes are pinched shut as pleasure paints his expression.

It's a beautiful sight.

One you found yourself wishing to see.

"Gonna blow my load if you keep doing that." He warns, a breathy chuckle accompanying his words.

You feel yourself smile, pride swelling in your chest. Being able to make him fall apart within minutes had to be some kind of record.

"Fuckin' proud of that, huh?" Luke's hips stutter, pressing a little too far down your throat. He laughs when you gag around him. "Thought I taught you to take it, baby."

He pats at your cheek once. He allows you a second to breathe through your nose before he's pressing deeper down your throat.

"Just need a little reminder." He mutters, holding himself back from fucking your throat.

His thumb wipes a tear that had prickled at your lashes and started slipping down your cheek.

"There you go. Relax....thaaat's it, angel."

I got possessed and had to write this...

Lars Lindstrom:

he's kinda not sure what to do

you fall asleep in church of all places

he's attentively listening to the sermon, but after a while he notices that you're leaning more and more against his side

he glances over and immediately furrows his brow, the way he always does when he finds something out of place

he has half a mind to wake you up. it's his instinct, and he almost follows it

But.

he knows how hard you work. he knows, deep down, that you wouldn't ordinarily be up this early on one of your days off, but you wanted to spend time with him.

the thought makes him feel warm, and the staticky feeling of your weight against his side, dulled through his layers, is almost pleasant

without thinking, one of his fingers comes to hover over your face

he's been wanting to test out how his touch aversion responds to you for a while, but it's not exactly an easy subject to broach

well, you're here now. and you two are in the back row.

his fingertip comes to rest on the tip of your nose. your eyelids flutter, and he almost pulls back, but you don't wake up. his fingertip tingles, but it doesn't burn like usual, probably because of the small surface area and the lightness of his touch

he spends the rest of the sermon tracing the contours of your face with the featherlight pressure of one fingertip, marveling at the way your skin feels like a static shock against his

Luke Glanton:

A.K.A. The Shusher

you're in his trailer, just cuddling and enjoying each other's company. you don't mean to fall asleep, but Luke is so warm and comfortable, and you feel so relaxed and safe with your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulders

he's murmuring little sweet nothings to you, quiet dreams of a future together, when he realizes that your nods and content little hums have stopped. he looks down and finds you asleep, face relaxed and breaths even

he stares down at you, wondering if he should be offended that you fell asleep and deciding that he isn't

he finds himself settling down too, content to follow your lead, when Robin opens the door to his trailer

"Hey, can--" "shh." "I just--" "shh." "What--" "shh."

Robin wants some help with one of his rare mechanic gigs

Too bad.

at least while you're asleep, Luke's not moving, and he's also not letting anyone get a word in

after Luke gives a pointed look from Robin down to your sleeping form, Robin lets out a quiet "ah" (that also gets shushed) and leaves the way he came.

Luke shushes the door when it clicks shut. he feels no shame.

Driver:

you're sitting on the couch in your apartment, your legs stretched out over Driver's lap and your head leaned back against a cushion

it's early afternoon on the weekend, and after a successful grocery shopping trip, you two are spacing out with the TV as background noise

At least you are. Driver seems somewhat invested, his head turned toward the screen while his hands absentmindedly rub over your knees, occasionally moving down to gently squeeze your calf

it's not exactly a massage, but it's relaxing nonetheless. you watch him watch TV, slowly slipping from daydreams into dozing

Driver knows the moment it happens. It wasn't something he was actively tracking, per se, but some subconscious part of him cataloged the way your breathing changed and your body relaxed

he keeps the TV on, not wanting to wake you with the sudden quiet, but he doesn't spare it another glance as he turns toward you

Watching you nap is infinitely more interesting to Driver; he doesn't have to contain his staring, and he gets to memorize the way you look when you're completely at peace

You wake up some time later, and by the time your eyelids flutter open, Driver has his attention back on the TV

one of his hands is around your ankle, thumb rubbing back and forth just under the hem of your pants, and the other is still gently kneading your calf

you feel thankful that you managed to sneak a power nap without him noticing

Sierra Six:

he's only been home for a couple days, fresh off an assignment where he had to be out of the country for a while

you two are always clingy in the first week after he gets back, unable to get enough of one another after being separated for so long

you're watching a movie after dinner, curled up against his side on the couch

in the days leading up to him getting back, as well as the days since, you've been hardly able to sleep, hardly able to distinguish your excitement from anxiety

now, breathing him in and feeling his solid warmth against you, you can finally calm down

Six isn't sure how long you've been asleep once he notices; the only thing that alerted him was that your running commentary of the movie had stopped

he's a little breathless at the sight of you curled into his side, peacefully sleeping

it's a big display of trust to fall asleep in someone's presence, and it's one he doesn't take for granted

he runs a hand through your hair, an aching fondness in his chest as he smiles down at you

his eyes do not get misty

carefully, like you're the most precious thing in the world (which you are, to him) he gets his arms under you and carries you to bed

he thinks, as he lays you down, about what a miracle it is that you feel so safe with him. he's a trained CIA operative with countless kills under his belt, probably one of the most dangerous men in the world, but you've never hesitated to be vulnerable around him

he slips into bed beside you and plants a kiss on your forehead, and he falls asleep curled protectively around you

Ryland Grace:

it's a weekday night when you find yourself at Grace's kitchen table, keeping him company while he grades a stack of quizzes

he had been very clear that you didn't have to do this, and that it would probably be very boring for you

He was right.

you're also tired from work, which doesn't help. you lay your head on his shoulder and sigh, and he absently kisses the top of your head

"I told you that you didn't have to stay," he says, circling the correct answer on a question a student got wrong.

"S'okay," you mumble. "I like being with you." You know without looking that you've made him blush. "Tough grader," you muse.

"Well, it's multiple choice. Not much wiggle room there," he chuckles, and you concede with a hum.

it's relaxing to watch him grade. his hands move with certainty, and the sound of pen against paper is nice.

when the weight on his shoulder becomes enough to break his focus, he knows that you've fallen asleep. Grace doesn't mind; you're good company even when you're asleep.

he finishes grading his papers before he wakes you up with a gentle nudge of his shoulder

he hates to do it when you seem so peaceful, but you're so pretty when you wake up that he selfishly doesn't regret it

he speaks to you softly, not wanting to break your sleepy haze, and invites you to spend the night

you end up having an impromptu sleepover, falling right back asleep once you both settle into his bed

Officer K:

it's after lunch when you shyly ask K to read to you

he raises an eyebrow at you, reminding you that you don't even like the book you're offering him, but he folds like wet paper under the sweetly pleading expression you give him

you feel a little sneaky as you settle onto the couch beside him. it's true; you don't like the book he's about to read, but you really just want to hear his voice. it's so hard to get the replicant to talk about anything for a long period of time, but you've learned that he likes to read out loud, so you use it to your full advantage to hear his low, smooth voice.

you excitedly wiggle into a comfortable spot next to him, and he exhales a laugh through his nose at your energy.

your energy doesn't last long once he starts reading. you put your head on his shoulder under the guise of following along, but his steady warmth and soothing timbre have your eyelids drooping before long.

K reaches the end of the chapter and he waits for you to prompt him to read more or switch activities, but all his ears pick up is your slow, quiet breathing. he turns his head to find his suspicions confirmed, but then he faces forward again

he's never held his body so still, but he's deathly afraid of disturbing you. he hardly even blinks or breathes.

he wants to watch you, but seeing you so soft and vulnerable makes something ache in his chest, and he feels like he's intruding.

instead, he catalogs the weight of you pressing into him, the sound of your breathing, memorizing every detail. it all feels so real, so tangible.

you wake up eventually to the feeling of K stone still beneath you, staring straight ahead. you're disturbed for a moment, but he seems to stir when you do, turning to look at you with a soft smile.

"Do you want another chapter?" he asks, slightly teasing. you nod, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Imagine it slipping out when you've been unable to stop staring at him all night at a party because looks so good, all smart and dressed up with his hair slicked back and his best suit on, standing tall with those big strong hands resting at your lower back every chance they get or taking your hands in his strong but gentle grip.

‘You look so good,’ you coo with your fingers squeezing his thigh.

Lars closes his eyes and tries to breathe for a moment, but he’s getting better at this game and he turns to whisper in your ear, ‘I can’t wait to get you home.'

'Oh? Are you gonna take good care of me… daddy?'

You can practically feel the heat coming off Lars when he hears that, it does something to him that words can't describe. He grabs your hand and your coats, and with hurried goodbyes, marches you out to the car.

On the journey home, you can hear him trying to force his breathing calm, and when you arrive home and are behind closed doors, he says something so quiet, you can't make our what it is.

'Lars, baby, what is it?'

He looks you dead in the eyes, 'Say it again.'

The first time he fingers you he's extremely thorough about explaining what he's going to do - I'm gonna touch you here now, okay sweetheart? Tell me if it feels good... oh you're so wet for me- I'm gonna slide my finger in, alright? Okay, that's it, you're taking me so well holy shit- I'm gonna try a few speeds okay? You tell me what feels good- I'm gonna rub your clit, I'll be gentle don't worry- mmh that's it, oh you're makin' me so hot sweetheart, your legs are shaking... gonna fuck you on it again now, okay?

When you jerk him off for the first time he shows you how with his hand wrapped around yours but you have a knack for it that he doesn't expect and just sits back to enjoy the ride. Let me guide you, that's it- mmh, oh- you feel so good, don't stop- just like that- ohh! and it's over pretty quickly because he hasn't felt a touch like that in a long while.

With his head between your legs for the first time, he give a few gentle laps to test the waters first. Do you like that? You want me to do it again? and then you hear faint mumbles as he keeps swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves.

When you want to suck him off, his fingers tangle in your hair as he falls apart but he still talks you through it. Jesus- ohh, fuck! Yeah just a little slower sweetheart or I won't last- that's it, ohhh you've got it- and what follows is a string of incomprehensible moans until he cums and then tries to tell you what a good job you did for him.

And the first time he buries himself in you he spends so long preparing you with his fingers and tongue, not letting you cum just yet because he doesn't want to overwhelm you but also so he can feel you clench around him. He almost cums in his pants just from pleasuring you but manages to wait until he's inside. You're sure you're ready? Yeah? Okay, I'm goin' in! Mmh god- you feel so fuckin' tight, baby, I'm not gonna last-

You smile as you wake, the warm, familiar feeling of Lars’s soft body flush to your back, his cock hard and nestled against your ass as he snores quietly behind you.

You love cosy mornings like this, when it’s cold outside but you’re snuggled with Lars. You can stretch and roll over and kiss him until his lips are swollen and the front of his pyjamas are damp with precum, and then make love to him, slow and deep and intense as he holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.

When you roll over this morning, though, you catch sight of the clock beside the bed and jolt upright.

It’s nine, church starts at nine-thirty, and it’s a ten minute drive into town.

‘Lars, baby, Lars wake up,’ you coo as he blinks his eyes open and smiles up at you.

‘Mmh, good morning… you look so-’

‘Lars, baby, we’re gonna be late for church.’

Despite not being a church-goer yourself, you attend with Lars for the social and communal side of it, to support him since you know how important it is to him. Reverend Bock was welcoming and not pushy at all, which made you all the more eager to join the little church community for your boyfriend. 

You know he won’t feel right if he doesn’t go – it’s not just important to him, it’s a routine he’s followed for years, and a change to that routine would mean a very dysregulated Lars. 

After rushing around finding the clothes you’d discarded the night before, hurriedly brushing your teeth and combing his hair into place for him (with a cheeky comb of his mustache, too, which never fails to make him smile), you run to his car, slam the doors shut and he speeds off toward town.

You make it just in time, Lars muttering to himself as you find a place to sit, and you’re patient beside him through the service. It feels like an eternity after knowing he woke up hard and leaking and pressed against you, and you’d wanted nothing more than to ride him into next week.

At the end of the first hymn, while everyone takes their seats, you lean in close to whisper, ‘I’m so wet for you right now,’ and watch the way his cheeks glow pink as he sits back down. You place a hand on his thigh when you’re settled back in the pew and feel his sharp intake of breath.

The rest of the service is uncomfortable for Lars to say the least. He’s trying so hard to focus on Reverend Bock’s words, but he can’t stop his mind from drifting off to thoughts of you. Dirty thoughts. Thoughts he really shouldn’t be entertaining while in a place of worship, and he will feel horribly guilty for later. But right now all he can focus on is wanting to slide his hand inside your pants and feel your arousal for himself.

You’re close enough that you can sense the tension coming off Lars and bite your lip, knowing what you’ve done to him.

Mrs Gruner leans over from the row behind you to quietly ask if he’s okay, and you whisper back, ‘Yeah, we just woke up a bit late and rushed to get here. He’s a little flustered, that’s all.’

It’s the truth, after all.

Mrs Gruner however, nods and smiles and sits back with a smirk on her face, eyeing Lars knowingly. You could have said, ‘He’s coming down with something,’ and Mrs Gruner would still see through it.

You glance at Lars. He’s visibly trembling and his forehead is damp.

You take your hand away from his thigh and could swear you heard him whimper.

When Reverend Bock finally brings the service to a close, Lars hurries from the pews like he’s caught on fire, and speeds through his goodbyes to Mrs Gruner and the other regulars while you smile sweetly beside him as though you have all the time in the world.

‘Enjoy the rest of your Sunday,’ Mrs Gruner smiles with that twinkle in her eye, and you smile back, blinking your gaze away.

All the way home, you stoke deliberate, tender shapes into Lars’s thigh. His breathing is heavy, and he doesn’t speak, so neither do you. You just keep touching, keep the contact you know he craves from you all the time, to keep him grounded.

Lars’s car screeches to a stop on the gravel, and after hastily opening the passenger door for you, he marches right into his apartment.

If Karin is watching, she probably thinks you’ve had a fight, but that’s okay. It means she’ll leave you alone long enough that you can have your way with one another uninterrupted.

When you’re both inside, Lars leans back against the door and tries to steady himself with some deep breaths. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he calms himself, sliding off his hat and tugging open the popper fastenings on his coat.

‘A-are you still- wet?’ he breathes, as he hangs his coat up, trying hard to sound casual and unbothered. But he’s so obviously incredibly bothered.

‘I have been since I woke up,’ you nod, biting your lip.

Lars crowds you until you’re on the bed beneath him and his hand is pushing under your clothes, a thick finger slowly fucking into you as he moans at how slick you really are.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry for leaving you like this all morning, having to sit through church so… so-’

‘Painfully horny for you?’ you finish his sentence.

Lars blushes and squeezes his eyes shut, as though fingerfucking you right after church isn’t flustering enough until hearing you say the word horny really tipped the scales.

You grab his sweater and pull him closer to kiss you.

‘What had you so on edge?’ you ask, managing to get the words out, but Lars’s thick fingers are really doing a number on you, alternating between filling you up and curling just right, and massaging your clit with slow, firm fingertips, and your words ultimately dissolve into moans.

‘I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this to you.’ His voice is low, and cracks a little halfway, sending shivers through you. ‘I wanted to touch you like this.. While we were-’

‘Go on,’ you moan, fingers gripping at his arms.

‘While we were in church, I couldn’t hear anything Reverend Bock was saying, I just kept thinking about burying my fingers in you and feeling you- f-feeling you-’

He knows your body well enough to know you’re close, and after a morning of longing for his touch, you begin to unravel, bucking up against his palm as he fucks into you harder and faster.

You clench around his finger, your grip on his sweater tight enough to pull holes in the wool, while wave after wave of pleasure wracks through your body.

Lars kisses you sweetly through the aftershocks of your pleasure, but as soon as you’re coherent, you kick off your pants and push at his chest until you’re on top of him, bringing his hand up to suck his finger clean – a move that still makes him feel as though he could pass out.

Lars is propped up, leaning back against the headboard as you free his throbbing cock.

‘Did you think about this too?’ you ask, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking soft and slow, just how he likes it.

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘You’re so naughty,’ you smirk, shifting to straddle his waist and guide yourself down onto him, ‘what would the reverend say if he knew you spent the service daydreaming about getting me off…’

You hiss at the delicious stretch and give Lars a moment to adjust.

‘... and about filling me up with your cum?’

Lars’s heart hammers and he’s speechless, the thrill of the guilt he feels turning into a hot pool of pleasure in his core.

‘I’ve wanted to do this since I woke up,’ you breathe, pulling your sweater off to bare yourself to him completely.

‘Y-you don’t have- underwear- church-’ Lars is trying so hard to make sense while he’s buried in you, warm and wet and so hot, but it’s getting harder to form a complete thought by the second.

‘I didn’t feel like wearing any today,’ you smirk, watching the way his face scrunches. ‘Just for you.’

‘At church? N-naughty-’ he groans, big hands gripping at your hips to feel the way you roll your hips.

You lean in to whisper, ‘Do you like it when I’m naughty? When I drag you down with me?’

Lars can only whine and attempt to nod, his forehead now pressed to yours as he holds you there, slipping his arms around your back to lock you in place above him so he can take the lead and fuck his hips up into you, hard but steady.

‘Everyone thinks you’re such a good boy, they don’t know you make me cum twice before you drive us to church every week.’

He whimpers, looking into your eyes as you continue.

‘And they don’t know you rush me home to fuck me like this right after church, either-’

Lars snaps his eyes shut and lets out a single moan, and he ruts his hips up faster.

‘Let me hear you,’ you whisper, before his thrusts inevitably turn a little more erratic.

Lars moans so loud you consider sliding your palm over his mouth but the sounds are just too delicious to muffle and you feel the coil tightening in you core again.

‘L-Lars, I’m-’

But he’s too far gone and as the bed creaks beneath you, Lars’s strangled cry rips through the room and you come undone together, panting and gasping as his grip on your hips almost bruises before it loosens and his thrusts stutter to a slow stop.

You stay above him, panting together and hold on tight as his cock twitches inside you, the intensity of your rather more hurried and hungry session taking it’s time to melt away.

There’s a tap at the door then, a gentle rap against the window, and your eyes snap open to meet Lars’s.

‘Lars? Lars, we wanted to make sure you’re both okay?’

It’s Karin. As wonderful as she can be, you really do wish she would leave you alone sometimes – especially this time.

Lars freezes, panic written all over his face and you know you’re going to have to deal with this one.

‘We’re okay!’ you call, lifting off Lars and causing him to let out a little ‘Ugh-’ at how suddenly he was left cold and exposed. He’d much rather still be inside you.

You hop off the bed and throw on the first things you pick up, which happen to be his sweater and your pants.

‘We saw you come home and we were worried!’ Karin calls, ‘Can we do anything to help?’

Lars winces. He knows Karin means well, that she knows how to handle him if he has a meltdown, but he wishes she would trust you a little more with that now, that she would leave you two to deal with those kinds of things yourselves.

Now clothed, you open the door just enough to see her, jamming your body into the gap to block Lars from view.

Behind you, Lars wraps a blanket around himself, hastily makes the bed look passable, and on shaky legs, makes his way to the bathroom where he switches on the shower.

‘Karin,’ you smile, seeing her eyes draw up to your messy hair, which you quickly attempt to smooth down. ‘Thanks for calling by, but we’re okay, really.’

‘Did you have a fight?’ Karin asks blatantly, trying so hard to be tactful, but it just came off nosy.

You see her head tilt as she clocks that you’re wearing the sweater Lars always wears for church. And the fact that you have it on backwards.

‘No, nothing like that,’ you say as Karin tries to peek past you.

‘Okay, well, we made breakfast. Will you both join us?’

‘Breakfast? We’d love to!’ you feign, ‘Can you just give us… fifteen minutes? We woke up late so Lars is only just showering.’

Karin bites her lips together and nods. ‘Sure. Sure, see you in fifteen minutes.’

After watching Karin make her way back to the house, you close the door and strip back out of the clothes you’d thrown on.

You find Lars worriedly listening at the bathroom door, and gently pull the blanket away from him to replace it with your embrace.

‘I bought us fifteen minutes,’ you say, and he lets out the breath he was holding in, relieved. ‘Do you wanna jump in the shower together before we head over there?’

‘Yeah. Thank you for dealing with that,’ his cheeks powder with a pink blush again, ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

‘Any time, sweetheart,’ you reach up to cup his cheek and he leans into it.

∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom

Lars is big, but he doesn’t know since he has little to no frame of reference, plus no one’s ever seen him naked. He’s seen some racy clips from the porn that Kurt shows him, but the guys in those movies tend to be on the bigger side so Lars just thinks that’s the standard. 

He’s long and thick, uncircumcized, with a light trail of dark golden hair leading down over his lower belly to a natural little bush around the base where you’ll find his neatly tucked balls. He’s pretty too; pale and smooth – and flushes pink at the tip when he gets a little excited.

Lars finds blow jobs a little overwhelming sensory-wise, so more often prefers touching, either over clothes and dry humping, or soft, slow handjobs… until he gets needy and whiny and you move a little faster. It can take Lars some time to recover after an orgasm, the intense sensations staying in his body for a while after, so no matter how much he enjoyed himself with you, he can feel a little touched out – but he will eagerly go for another round of pleasuring you when he’s caught his breath. He has been known to cum untouched while eating you out.

∘₊✧ Driver

Driver is a grower. There is a subtle bulge in his jeans, but when he gets hard it’s frankly unavoidable.

He’s a decently neat size, with a very light amount of blonde hair around the base and well proportioned balls. When he gets hard, he’s a good six inches and girthy, but not intimidatingly so – he’d stretch you just right.

He doesn’t usually wear underwear, finding the sensory aspect of wearing under-layers too restricting when he’s driving and the friction of his jeans can sometimes feel really fucking good. Especially when you kiss him, or even just smile in his direction and he feels himself twitch inside the denim. It doesn’t take much to make him come undone, because he’s deliciously sensitive. He doesn’t mind how you pleasure him and he does have a short refractory period, so it doesn’t take long to go again if he spills too early, and when he does go again, he’s so needy and whiny and intense. He just falls apart with you.

∘₊✧ Colt Seavers

Colt is a monster and has been jokingly compared to a roll of three Coke cans. With the biggest dick of all the geese, he sometimes gets a little lightheaded when he gets a boner.

He’s handsomely thick, has pretty veins that are so sensitive to a gentle touch, and thick dirty-blonde hair at the base following on from a tempting trail.

For a blow job you’ll need both hands along with your mouth to take him completely. He has to take his time when he fucks you because the stretch can be… a lot. But once you’re prepared by his fingers and tongue, and he’s buried deep, he breathes out a low growl of, ‘Fuck you’re so tight baby-’ circling his hips painfully slowly to get you comfortable before he pounds into you.

∘₊✧ Ken

Ken is fascinated with his dick. Having recently gained one when permanently returning to the Real World as an ex-doll, he feels very proud of it.

It’s plastic-perfect, like a dildo that was made to look like a realistic cock. His new dick did come with a small amount of bleach-blonde hair, as neat as the rest of him. He’s perfectly proportioned, big enough to fill you, but not to hurt.

Ken has a great time learning how to jerk off. He also learns that his cum is pink and glittery (affectionately known as Glizz)! With you, he is eager to try anything and everything and has so many questions, and wants to learn everything there is to know about pleasure – yours and his. Ken is frankly insatiable, and will hump you at any time you’re left alone together.

∘₊✧ Henry Letham

Henry doesn’t think too much about sex, unless he’s with the right person who ignites that little flame of desire inside him just the right way. Then, he will get super invested, and jerking off will become a regular routine until you kiss him one day and take his breath away.

He is on the slightly smaller side, and that’s NOT a bad thing. He’s perfectly in proportion, fills you just right, and is pretty – in a sad way, just like him. He has never trimmed or shaved a day in his life, but he would if he thought you’d like it.

He is intense, and fucks you deep and thorough, never satisfied until you’ve come undone at least once – only then will he let himself really feel the pleasure you give him. Henry can take a while to get hard. Unless there’s a very specific kink at play that really gets him just right, he needs the emotional context behind the act to feel right. But he is an eager lover once he gets going, and will shed a tear or two when the resulting orgasm subsides.

∘₊✧ Holland March

Holland has a love-hate relationship with his schwanz. Sometimes it’s hard when he really could do without it, and other times it won’t cooperate.

He’s an impressive length. with an impressive bush of dark brown-blonde hair, and he knows how to use it. His balls are on the larger side and feel so heavy when he hasn’t cum for a while (he likes you to include them when you’re having fun down there).

Holland prefers handjobs to blow jobs because they feel more personal, and therefore more intense, and he is one for romance. He likes to watch you pleasure him, kiss you while you’re touching, feel the caress of your touch while you feel the throb of his desire. With his narrow hips, he’s incredibly skilled at getting the angle just right for you during sex, and making you feel full. You won’t only be full of his dick, though; Holland has hyperspermia, so when he cums, it goes on and on - it’s messy and sexy – copious amounts of his seed pump from his tip, prolonging his orgasm while you try to take it all. But you can’t ever quite manage to, and it will dribble out down your legs or over your chin. Handjob? Be prepared to both get covered in his release.

∘₊✧ Sierra Six

Six is as large as the rest of his body. He knows he’s big, and he’s quite proud of it, but he doesn’t try to impress you with that fact because he really thinks his dick can speak for itself when he’s hard.

He’s handsome, thick, curves up really beautifully when he’s hard, and when he’s had time he will groom his hair just a little bit, although that will get neglected when he’s busy.

Six likes you to take care of him so he can give up control, so he’s happy with whatever you want to do with him as long as you’re having a good time and taking away the prospect of any decision making. He can only do this, though, if he trusts implicitly, so you’re one of very few to ever see this vulnerable side of him and get free reign of how to pleasure him.

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace

Ryland is another Goose who is bigger than he knows, and he’s very modest about it – and about his abilities. He’s relatively inexperienced, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enthusiastic lover.

His dick is thick, veiny in a very pretty way, natural hair at the base, and balls that hang just slightly lower than the other Geese.

Ryland moans LOUD. He’s kind of embarrassed about it, but when you touch him, he just melts into pure pleasure and can’t stop himself. He loves to guide you on his cock, sitting back against the headboard or in a chair while you ride him, with his big hands holding your hips in place as he fucks up into you. It’s a very safe way for him to feel a sense of control without taking it away from you completely. And he’s kind of easy to excite – a naughty text here and there will fluster him so much that you can’t send them while he’s at work. He’s hard and leaking from the lightest touch, and he will cum from a handjob in under a minute. But when he’s buried in you, he likes to draw out the pleasure, keeping you still as he essentially edges himself in your pussy.

∘₊✧ Luke Glanton

Luke takes a lot of pride in his body, and his cock is no exception. He wants to be the whole package for you, and his actual package is just delicious.

He is of average size, pale, and has pretty balls. He keeps his hair closely trimmed and there are tattoos down there that you get to discover when you undress him, like unwrapping a birthday present; your favorites are the little loveheart and the lipstick stain left by amorous lips, calling you to kiss him in that exact spot (you discover he moans when you do. He got the tattoo in that spot for a reason).

Luke is open to anything you want to try, and wherever, too – he will drive you to the middle of nowhere to have you suck him off against his bike in nature, or he will eat you out around the back of his trailer when you looked at him that particular way and he couldn’t wait to get you inside. His favorite sexual activity of all, though, is whatever feels the most intimate. He loves to be able to look into your eyes and cum simultaneously because it feels like such a close and special thing to share. He will lay around with you afterward, inevitably getting hard again pretty quickly while you’re laid in his arms talking and kissing, because it feels kinda romantic and he loves that.

Edit:

∘₊✧ Officer K