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If someone has these paid days they can take off from work, how do you say that?
I saw several words for it, but what do you call it?
Like if you have a week off and someone asks where are you, do you say "im on vacation" even if you don't travel anywhere you just stay at home? Or do you say "im on paid leave" or "i have a week off"?
I would call it PTO or paid time off, and if anyone asked me why I took the time off I'd probably just say that I'm just taking a week off to relax! Or you could totally say that you're taking a vacation lol saying you're going on vacation doesn't necessarily mean you have to go anywhere! Vacation could just mean you're taking a "vacation" from work!
I'm following blogs that haven't posted in like eight years but I don't care I shall never unfollow them because I am a true and loyal knight #loyalknight
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I love how my obsession with Moon Knight and Oscar Isaac came out of literally nowhere.
When I first saw an article that there is a show for Moon Knight I was like "who the fuck is this" cause I've never heard of that superhero before lol.
Then I watched the trailer and I thought "oh, this looks interesting". I loved the Egyptian theme and that there was something mystical and sus about the character (I didn't know about the DID part yet). And I was like "oh Oscar Isaac is playing him, cool". Up until that point I only saw Drive, Robin Hood, X-men: Apocalypse, Star Wars, and the Bourne Legacy and I thought he was a good actor, but I didn't think he was anything extra (although these are not really the roles that could make an actor really stand out imo).
Then literally after the first few minutes I fell in love with Steven and by the end of the episode my mind was poisoned and i wrote my first two MK fics in like 1-1 hours.
It's wild to think this was more than 4 years ago 🙁
One thing i used to love to do, is go to Pinterest, and look at houses / gardens / balconies / interior designs for any room.
I remember when I was still living at home with my parents, I used to bing read the Ikea magazines cause I loved all the different ideas and colours and stuff.
And I haven't done this in a while so I searched for living room ideas and guess what? Half of them are AI generated images 😭
Like they're pretty and all, but show me real rooms pls 😭
“coming from a place of respect” there is nothing respectful about a comment like this. this is exactly why I say witch hunt, speculations and accusations harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
I am not saying “you’re an asshole if you think a fic is ai”. I have come across fics that I believe were ai-generated. but instead of asking (accusing) the authors, I make my own decisions whether I’ll continue reading for the benefit of the doubt or quietly exit the fics and look for something else to read.
because with every accusation like this, there’s always a chance of a genuine, innocent writer getting wrongly accused.
last but not least, fanfic writers do NOT owe you anything. they write for themselves and their own enjoyment. their ao3 accounts are their houses and they were kind enough to let you in their houses. for free. (you get to read things for free.) you don’t go into other people’s houses and tell them “actually I think the way you decorate your room is sus. did you actually do it yourself or did you ask a robot to do it for you?”. THEY 👏🏻 DON’T 👏🏻 OWE 👏🏻 YOU 👏🏻 ANYTHING. and I say this as someone who is not a fan of ai fics. if you don’t like what you’re seeing, quietly leave.
*the following is not about the fic in this specific post. in general, I still strongly believe people who let ai write for them should tag their works as ai accordingly. but if we want more people to be honest about it, we’ll have to stop shaming and harassing people who actually tag their ai-generated fics accordingly. harassment is never justified. not to mention, it will only make “ai writers” refrain from tagging their ai-generated works as such. and then there’s no way for anyone to know for absolute certainty if it’s ai. therefore the raise of witch hunt.
yeah no, see this is what im talking abt this is the arrogance and over defensive mentality in writing spaces that make it so toxic. If ur posting your writing on a PUBLIC community platform like ao3 or anywhere else then your work is subject to any kind of comment and critique because it’s fucking public!!!! it’s not a “witch hunt”, ppl are allowed to question the integrity of any work posted on a public platform, period. WRITERS OWE THE PEOPLE WHO GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO INTERACT WITH THEIR WORK EVERYTHING!!! ao3 isn’t ur fucking hugbox. and im pretty sure there are options on ao3 to make ur work private and only for you to see so???? at this point fanfic “writers” should just call themselves hobbyists with a hyper fixation on making god awful blorbo media slop cus if you’re just doing this shit for urself and u don’t really care to actually CARE about your craft and hone in your skills then whatever ig? maybe we need to draw a HARD LINE between creative writing and whatever tf THIS is…
“If ur posting your writing on a PUBLIC community platform like ao3 or anywhere else then your work is subject to any kind of comment and critique because it’s fucking public!!!!”
“if you’re dressing like this in PUBLIC then you are subjected to being catcalled and harassed by strangers and you’re toxic if you fight back against the ones who harassed you” victim blaming ass mindset.
“writers owe the people who go out of their way to interact with their works” by interacting you mean being disrespectful and rude??? I’d rather these entitled ass readers stay away from my works and any other writers’ works.
instead of looking for an excuse to be an asshole to other people, maybe have you ever tried being a decent person?
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The time has come. I went online to try and find one this year and the only one that had different pictures than what we've already seen was really expensive. Knowing Vista Print always has sales this time of year, I picked out 12 of my favorite Oscar photos and made one myself! I hope you enjoy!
Bud Cooper x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 17: Frottage
Summary: You run into Bud in a storage room.
A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always!
Warnings: Swearing, grinding, coming in pants, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 852
You tut, swearing under your breath as you look for the damn file.
This whole storage room needed a complete resort and structure, because now all that was happening was files being flung anywhere with absolutely no system or structure at all. And there was no way to find fucking anything.
Mr. Peterson needed the Samson case file, he had needed it a good twenty minutes ago. Luckily, he was a nice guy. Late fifties, had been in the insurance business for a long time. He knew how bad the storage room was and had given you an apologetic smile when he’d asked. You definitely had a stroke of good luck when you’d started and been assigned the personal assistant to him.
The door to the cramped room opens and you turn your head, expecting to greet one of the other assistants who had been sent on a fool's errand.
But instead you see Bud.
“Hello, Mr. Cooper.” You manage to say it completely calmly and professionally.
He grins, wolfish as he steps inside and closes the door. “Good morning.” He nods his head to you as he walks around, pretending to look for a file.
He comes to a stop right behind you, purposefully just pressing his chest against your back. He leans forward, pushing you closer to the shelves. “Oh, sorry, my file is right there.” He mutters in your ear, his voice low and thick.
You give him a glare. “It fucking is not.”
Bud snorts, pressing his mouth against your neck. “I’m trying to seduce you here.”
You bite back a laugh. “Try harder then.”
He kisses your jaw and cheek, one hand on your hip as he gently turns you around to face him. “Why didn’t you let me drive you in this morning?” He smiles.
“I wanted to get in early.” You lie.
“Liar.”
Fuck him. But you smile. “I didn’t want you to drive me in.”
He nods, “You didn’t want people to see.”
“People talk.”
“So let them.”
You pull a face. “It’s easier for you, no one’ll care that you’re fucking an assistant. I’ll get all the spite for sleeping over at a guy’s house I’m not married to.”
“Let’s get married then,” Bud says simply.
You playfully wack his arm and he grins.
“What? You turning me down?” He pretends to pout as he moves closer, pressing his body against yours.
“You’re terrible.”
“You love it.” He gives you a soft kiss as he gently presses one leg between yours.
“Bud…”
“Hmm?” He gives you an innocent look as he moves his other leg between yours as well, both of his hands rubbing your hips.
“I’m not going to fuck you in the storage room.” You try to inject some strictness into your voice, but your amusement is all too clear.
“I’m not trying to fuck you baby…” He gives you the sweetest smile. “I’m gonna make you come though.”
He rocks his hips forward languidly, grinding his hard cock against your core. You gasp, grabbing hold of his biceps as he moves and mouths at your neck.
You bite your lip, trying not to whine as he presses wonderfully. “You get horny a lot at work, huh?” You tease.
“Oh, I’ve been rock hard since I woke up in an empty bed this morning.” He groans in your ear. “Which is someone’s fault, isn’t it?” He moves particularly slowly, teasing you perfectly with his pulsing length and hooks his hand under your left knee to hike your leg onto his hip.
“Your own.” You manage to stammer out.
He pokes out his bottom lip, giving you a look before he leans forward and licks into your mouth.
You move with him, sucking on his tongue as he rocks and grinds. His little pants build, his fingers digging into your sides as you both build in a delicious rhythm.
His heavy cock rubs perfectly against your clit, he knows your body like second nature now, knows how to hurtle you towards completion. There’s not enough time here to truly take you apart slowly, like he wants.
You whine, gasping against his lips as he squeezes your breast lightly, pinching your nipple and groaning at your reaction. His eyes are lidded, hazy, his mouth parted as if he were trying to swallow down your sounds.
Another roll of his hips is all it takes and you’re coming hard. The sensation robs you of thought as pleasure is pulled from your bones expertly and with little of your say in the matter.
You just about manage to bite back your moans as Bud kisses you messily, using your lips to muffle his own cries of pleasure as he comes in his pants.
He breathes hard and then laughs. “Shit.”
“What?” You grin.
“I wasn’t planning on… you know… finishing myself.”
You snort. “You made a mess huh?”
He nods, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah.”
“Well,” you disentangle yourself from his arms and drop down to your knees, looking up at him with your hands on his fly. “Let me help you with that?”
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Bud Cooper x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 30: Cunnilingus
Summary: Bud forgot a file at work, you take a trip to bring it to him.
A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). This is so badly not beta read, I cannot stress. I am cutting this one so fine timewise.
Warnings: reader works with Bud, kissing, oral, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 1713
You race down the pavement, rain soaking into your skin. You’re practically a drowned rat at this point, sodden and cold.
You have the case file wrapped tightly to your chest, under your coat and thankfully in a metal carry case - safe from the rain.
Bud had forgotten it when he’d left, you knew he’d need it for Monday morning and probably wouldn’t even notice he hadn’t picked it up over the weekend. Not that the offices would be open even if he did.
So, with your boss’s permission, you’d looked up Bud’s home address and made your way. It hadn’t been raining when you got on the bus, but when you got off the storm clouds had been looming.
Finally, you reach his house. His car is parked in the drive, which is a small mercy. At least you know he’s in.
You duck under the shelter of his porch and ring the bell.
He's surprised when he opens the door to you, but he smiles. And it's utterly disarming.
“Hi, erm, I, so, you left…” All the practised sentences you'd gone over in your mind on the way here fall out of your head the instant you need them. “Here.” You hold out the metal case file and quickly realise he has no idea what's inside. “I…”
“Come in, come in, my god, you're soaked.” He ushers you inside, giving you a sympathetic look.
“I don't want to be any trouble-”
“No trouble at all.” He closes the door and turns to you. It's upsetting how good he looks out of his work clothes, part of you hoped that his allure was just from the pressed suit and ties he wore. But it seemed you were down bad.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, and to your obvious distress?” He smiles as he talks and you get lost in the expression for a moment.
“Distress?”
“You racing through a storm?”
“Oh… you forgot, erm, the Brandle File.” you hold up the box again, your hands shaking slightly from the cold. Rain water drips from your clothing onto his clean carpet and you wince. “I asked Mr Johnson, he gave me permission to drop it by, I know it's not professional, I don't mean to barge into your home and-”
“Hey, hey,” He looks at you warmly as he takes the box from you and puts it on the floor. His fingers brush yours and he hisses, “You're freezing!”
“I'm sorry.”
He tuts. “Don't be sorry, you'll catch your death.” He gives you an apologetic look, “all this because I haven't got my head screwed on right.”
“N-”
“I'm not taking any excuses from you for my behaviour.” He grins. “Now I'm being a terrible host.”
He ushers you upstairs and to the bathroom, handing you a laundry basket towel and dressing down. “Take a hot shower and bring your clothes down in the basket, I'll get them washed and dried for you.”
“Mr Cooper-”
“Bud.”
“Bud, I-”
“I'm not taking no for an answer sweet pea.” He smiles and leaves the room.
You sigh and stare at the full basket in your hands. It's not really like you have much of a choice.
“Use my soap if you want to!” He calls out halfway down the stairs.
The shower is wonderful, warm and soothing, and when you're done you ring out your work clothes as best you can before you put them in the basket.
The towel dressing gown is massive, it could easily fit 4 Bud's inside standing side to side, and still have room for more. It's soft and warm, and there are a pair of warm socks rolled up inside it. You put those on as well.
You hang your towel up on the side, and panically try to make sure you've put everything back in the exact place it was before you head downstairs.
It's only when your foot is on the first step that your anxiety bubbles up, nearly paralysing you. You're naked under the dressing gown. In his house. You double check the tie around your waist, making sure everything is secure.
He’s in the kitchen, bent down checking something in the oven so you have a first seat view of his ass.
God was teasing you.
“Erm, I,”
Bud spins around, still all smiles, he’s got an apron on over his house clothes that has ‘kiss the cook’ printed on it in fancy lettering. “I’ll take those, get them washed and dried for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.” You hate how timidly your voice comes out.
He waves a dismissive hand at you before he takes the basket. “It’s the least I can do, would you like to stay for dinner? There’s more than enough, I’ll drive you home after.” He pauses, “Not that I’m insisting on you staying, you’re more than welcome to keep the dressing gown and I’ll take you home right now.”
“No, I,” you smile a little bashfully. “Are you sure I’m not imposing?”
He shakes his head happily and busies himself by sitting you down in the living room with a hot drink before he goes to the laundry room. You have to practically beg him to make Bud stop from hunting down the spare portable heater for you.
You have a sneaky look around the room while he’s gone, just out of interest. There are a few photos, friends and family, a couple of small knick knacks.
You smile at him when he comes back in the room, “You have a lovely house.”
“Ah,” he shakes his head, “It’s not very homely. Needs some care.” He taps the door frame affectionately.
“Well, I think it’s lovely.”
He puffs his chest out a little. “Thank you.” He takes a few steps closer to you, “Oh that’s Frank, he’s an old friend.” He points to the photo you were looking at. “Fishing trip last year.”
“You like fishing?”
“Hate it,” he chuckles, “Frank loves it, I think you can see by my face there, I’m not a fan.”
You giggle.
“I mean, I like the beer, and the talking and the peace and quiet, but it was fucking freezing there even though it was the middle of May. I nearly lost toes to frostbite.” He pauses, admiring your smiling face. “Thank you for bringing the file, you’re too sweet.”
“Oh,” you shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone else that would do that for their boss, let alone for someone that isn’t your boss.”
You shift a little, biting your lip, trying not to let your embarrassment bubble up and overwhelm you completely. “Well…”
“I think…” Bud smiles, lightly touching your cheek and titling your head up so that you meet his gaze. “You might have a soft spot for me?”
You freeze, unable to look away from his soft eyes.
“I know I’ve got one for you.” He breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “Do you think I could try a little something, just to make it up to you? Repay you for the favour?”
“I…” You swallow. “It was no problem…”
“Please?” He smiles sweetly, you didn’t notice him take a step nearer, but you moan softly when he presses his lips to yours and groans.
It barely takes a moment before he’s licking into your mouth and walking you backwards to the sofa.
He presses you down gently before he climbs on top of you, kissing you senseless. It’s like he’s everywhere, all at once, stroking and sighing as you lean closer and wrap your arms around him.
His fingers trail down, then up your legs, lightly pushing the dressing gown higher. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Can I?” He asks softly, once more looking at you with those heartbreaker eyes.
You nod, not trusting your voice. Part of you is so sure you shouldn’t be doing this, but the other doesn’t give a single fuck.
He grins happily, scooting down and pushing your clothing higher, and up to your hips. Anxiety begins to swirl and settle, but Bud groans, his eyes rolling back for a second.
“Fuck me, if this isn’t the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” He licks his bottom lip before he dips down, his warm hands pulling your right thigh onto his shoulder.
You gasp as his mouth touches you and grab at the cushions as he places a soft, light kiss to your clit before he flicks out his tongue.
“Taste so good too.” He mutters, lightheaded. Something about the taste of his own soap mixed with your skin is driving him crazy. He laps again, a long slow lick through your folds that he savours while he pushes at his hardening cock with the heel of his hand.
The little whimper that escapes your throat makes him feral, makes him want to push and push until all he is pulling from you is those sounds.
He moans happily, watching you with lidding, hazy eyes as he licks, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue after every swipe.
“Fuck,” you squirm, breathing hard and trying to get closer to the sweet warmth of his mouth. He grins, pressing closer to you and kneading the back of your thighs with his hands pushing you up and nearer, letting you rock and ride exactly how you want to.
“Bud, please,” your toes curl, pleasure shivering along your limbs, mixing with the pent up anxiety to hurtle you towards your peak.
He moans against you, the vibrations running up your nerves. Your legs part to shake, moving without your control as the sensation builds and builds and builds. You throw your head back, your spine arching as pleasure explodes out and along your skin, bathing you in its soft glow.
You come hard against his mouth, rocking and pulsing as he continues to lap and lick, whining ever so slightly when your cum finally hits his tongue. He slows his movements only stopping when your muscles relax.
“Fuck,” he wipes his mouth greedily, already craving your slick on his tongue again. “You know what, I don’t think I quite made it up to you enough.” He grins cheekily, “I think two or three more should do it.”
Jonathan Levy x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 24: On the counter
Summary: You look after Ava while Jonathan goes out on a date.
A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing and being so lovely! <3
Warnings: neighbour!reader, mentions of the reader liking horror films/Terrifier, reader also has a cat, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 2554
Jonathan knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just can’t help himself.
The date had been a bad one, pointless in fact. He should have ducked out after the first ten minutes, no five.
But he’d stayed and now it was nearly twelve fucking am by the time he got home. He should really go to bed. Get some sleep.
Instead, he was talking to you, and drinking coffee. Oh, three am him was going to be pissed.
“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” Jonathan pushes his glasses higher. “Please, you got to let me give you some money.”
You shake your head, raising your hand, “Oh, no, no, no, you letting me pinch your netflix and amazon password for the last four months is more than enough.”
He chuckles, fiddling with his mug, “Yeah, but that’s just being neighbourly.”
You scoff. “It is not, Jonathan.”
Your friendship had started about seven months ago, when Jonathan had taken in a grand total of eight parcels from fedex on your, and your roommates, behalf in one day.
After collecting them, you’d apologised profusely, and baked him a banana cake. Panicking when you gave it to him that a, you didn’t actually know if he was allergic to anything, and b, that he actually liked bananas.
Luckily he did.
Your friendship had grown when his car wouldn’t start one morning, and you’d given him a lift to work on your moped and picked him up after. Plus you’d got your friend’s cousin’s, uncle’s ex-colleague to have a look at his car and sort out the problem.
He’d bought you lunch and looked after your cat if you had to go out of town. You watched his daughter if he had to work late on the days he had her.
Originally, this hadn’t been his weekend to have Ava, hence why he had a date. A very, very bad date.
“Come on,” he smiled at you, that horrible brilliantly blinding smile that leaves you weak at the knees, “usually you’re just with her for what, forty five minutes? An hour, this was nearly four.”
You giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t just politely leave.”
“I am a man of faults.”
You laugh harder, “Look, I like Ava, we watched a series of R rated horror films and I made sure she ate her weight in sugar without brushing her teeth.”
He grins. “I’m sure I would have had a better time with you guys here.”
You shrug, “Well, you can join us next time. We’re going to watch Terrifier.” You tease.
“Ugh,” he shudders, “Don’t tell me you like those kinds of films?”
You can’t stop from smiling at his dramatic reaction. “What? You don’t?”
He pulls a face and you giggle.
“They’re fun!”
“They are not.” He takes a sip of his cooling coffee, trying to nurse it as long as he could.
“They are.”
“All blood and guts.” He screws up his face, putting it on a bit for you.
“But the prosthetics! Plus it’s not real.” You say playfully.
“Freaky.” He shakes his head. “Too much for my old heart.”
You snort. “Jonathan.”
“What?” He smiles.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“You just want me to tell you how young you are.” You rest your chin on your hand as you look at him.
He pauses and then nods rapidly, “I do actually, and you have to, it’s the social contract.”
You giggle, “Well, I’m not.”
“That's unfair.” He says in mock outrage, making you laugh harder.
“Fine,” you hold up your hands, “You’re very handsome.”
He pauses, looking at you for a moment. “I said you had to tell me I was young, not beautiful.” He teases, expecting you to throw a comment back at him immediately.
But instead, you pause. For a moment, it’s almost funny how you freeze.
“I…” You swallow, your mouth dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“It’s okay,” he quickly covers, “I’m just teasing, it’s fine.”
You smile weakly, your skin burning. You get up quickly, nearly knocking your mug over in the process. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Sorry, I, erm,” you pick up your mug, and then his, “Let me, erm, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.”
You turn before he even has a chance to say anything, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the mugs on the counter.
Jonathan stands quickly, calling your name, “Hey, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry,” anxiety cuts into his chest, leaving his ribs bare. He walks behind you, accidentally bumping into you as you turn.
“Sorry,” he grabs your arm to steady you and himself, his heart thudding so hard in his temples he’s sure he’s going to burst a blood vessel.
You glance at his eyes nervously, breathing hard. “I…”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He says softly. He should put his hand down, stop touching your arm. “I was just teasing.”
You nod, “I know, I… I’m sorry.” Your insides squirm a little, trying to find a way out to escape this awkwardness.
“Don’t be,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “It’s always nice when someone beautiful calls you handsome.”
Your brain glitches, static for a moment, rebooting.
“Beautiful?” You repeat.
“Beautiful.” His mouth says before he has any say in the matter. “And kind, and funny, and wond-”
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeply. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the counter.
It takes him a moment to catch up with his body, to figure out this is actually real, not some well used fantasy he plays out behind his eyes in the shower.
You pull lightly at his hair, moaning softly when he licks into your mouth and pushes his legs between yours. He rocks against you, his cock quickly hardening in his trousers as he presses against the seam of your jeans.
Part of him wants to pull back, to not push things, to not rush. But the much louder voice in his head laments at how long he’s been holding back, how long he’s been thinking of you while touching himself with a lubed hand.
You gasp as he kisses along your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks at your pulse point greedily. God, if he could just get you to make that noise one more time.
“Jonathan,” you moan softly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling on his shoulders, needing to rid the fraction of space between you.
He growls, nipping at your neck and nearly coming on the spot when he hears how needily you call his name. “Can I take these off?” His words are nearly lost with how he sucks on your skin, barely able to move his mouth back more than a centimetre. He pulls at your top, your trousers and you nod hastily.
His groan at your confirmation makes you shiver. He practically tears your clothing from you, pushing and pulling the material away as if it personally offended him, before he hikes your right leg up around his waist and urges you up onto the counter.
He sucks your breasts into his mouth greedily, quickly going from one to another, like a child in a toy store unable to choose his favourite. While he presses his thumb to your clit and strokes his fore and middle fingers through your folds.
He groans deeply at the wetness he finds, rocking against you as he pushes inside.
You gasp, biting down on your lip to keep yourself vaguely quiet as you cling onto his shoulders with one hand and the counter with the other.
He strokes gently, pressing rhythmically against your walls as he toys with your clit and you sob, practically clinging onto him for dear life.
Pleasure builds dizzyingly fast in your belly, threatening to pull you down with every stroke. You moan in his ear, lightheaded, just about gathering yourself together to whimper his name. You weren’t prepared for this utter onslaught, for him to be so determined to pull you apart piece by piece.
Spikes of sensation buzz along your skin, twisting and building.
“You’re going to make me come,” you sob, shocked at how quickly your body is ready to fall apart.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your collar bone before he licks up your neck back to your lips. It’s hot and wet and messy, his tongue in your mouth to quiet your sobs as you pulse and gasp, coming violently around his fingers.
You shake in his grip, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. He works you through it, stroking and pumping until you feel like liquid in his hands.
“God,” he groans, kissing your forehead and breathing hard. He takes his fingers out of you slowly and shoves them in his mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste.
When you manage to pull back a fraction to look at him, you can see his glasses have steamed up. You giggle and he grins around his fingers, taking them out with a pop to kiss you.
You run your hands through his hair, shivering as he presses close once more.
“Do you?” He starts at the same moment you speak - “Can I?”
He chuckles, nodding for you to go first.
“Take these off.” You mutter, pulling at his jumper. He moves back a fraction, letting you pull it over his head and snorting when his glasses get caught in the neckline. He whips them off, placing them on the side, his curls wild.
Jonathan bites his lip as you unbuckle his jeans, helping you by undoing his fly.
“Can I fuck you?” He groans, kissing your cheek and jaw, each glide of his tongue makes your body sing.
“Please.”
He growls, barely pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs before he’s taking his heavy cock in hand and pumping himself a few times.
You take a cheeky look down and bite your lip.
He grins, “Like what you see?”
The line would make you giggle in any other situation, but now your mouth is watering. You nod rapidly.
“Oh,” he chuckles, spitting in his hand, “So that’s what makes you lost for words, I get it.” He smears his saliva over the head of his cock before he presses closer, guiding the tip to your folds.
“You’re really-” You whine, gasping as he notches at your entrance and just glides inside. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your body bucking unthinkingly as he pushes deeper.
He groans deeply, sighing like this is his first drink of water after a long hot day. He slides his hands to your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he eases in.
“Jonathan,” you gasp.
“I know, I know, fuck, you’re so tight.” He lightly rocks his hip, sheathing himself in the last few inches.
You whine, licking into his mouth when he kisses you hungrily. He thrusts experimentally, easing out a fraction before he pushes back in.
“How do you like it?” He mutters against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.
“I don’t mind,” you manage to say, your voice barely there.
He snorts, moving one of your legs to wrap around his waist again as he takes hold of your hips in a firm grip. “Tell me if you want something.” He groans, pulling out and then plunging back in. “Want to make you come again.”
You nearly shriek, throwing your head back and managing, somehow, to keep your voice muffled as he sets a brutal pace.
He bucks into you rapidly, shaking the cutlery on the drainer by the sink with every deep thrust. The toaster jumps with every buck of his hips into yours. The sound of your slick echoing as you coat his cock.
“You look so fucking hot when you come,” he groans. “So fucking wet.” He pounds into you, sweat beading in his hairline, the way you grab at him and whine setting his blood ablaze.
His pubic bone smacks against your clit with every thrust, his cock rolling against your walls and pushing impossibly deeper.
Something in you wants to break, needs to snap and flood out as he keeps rhythm, your body moving in time with his desperately.
You bite at his neck, sucking a love bite into his skin and shivering when he tenses and growls. He pulls you back a fraction with one hand on your jaw, his eyes so dark, and licks into your mouth like you hold the secrets of the universe.
You whimper, so needy for anything he’ll give - and he’ll give you everything.
Pleasure pulses in your core, makes your pussy flutter and you’re so close you can taste the sweetness on your tongue.
“Jonathan!”
“You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a nice creamy mess?” He groans, his balls tightening. “Want to feel you, please.”
You gasp, sobbing silently as your orgasm is ripped from you. Pleasure explodes along your nerves, wiping out any other thought as he drowns you and revives you in the same instant.
“Shit.” Jonathan’s hips stutter, his mouth open as your walls squeeze and suck him deeper, milking him for every single drop. He comes with a deep groan, emptying rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside.
He clings onto you as he finishes, hazy for a moment with the strength of his orgasm.
You breathe hard, he can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest.
Lightly he sucks on your neck, licking the salt from your skin. He kisses your temple. “You okay?”
“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a week.” You tease, exhausted, and he chuckles.
“I’ll wait on you hand and foot while you recover.” He smiles when you look up at him, stroking your cheek as he kisses you softly, reverently.
“Honestly, was that alright?” He mutters, a pang of worry settling under his ribs.
You snort, and kiss him deeply, stroking your fingers through his beard. “Fucking amazing.”
He grins. “Do you want to do it again sometime? Maybe in a bed after I’ve bought you dinner? I’ll even watch that Terrifier film with you.”
You giggle and nod. “I’d like that.”
He tries to help you down, but you end up helping him. His jeans have twisted around his calves and he nearly falls to a heap on the floor.
“My hero,” he mutters as you pull them off and kiss his thigh. “We’re lucky Ava didn’t wake up when we were… can you imagine me falling over is the thing that actually wakes her? She’ll need therapy for years after seeing her dad naked on the kitchen floor with his jeans around his ankles.”
You clap your hand over your mouth to stop your fit of laughter and he grins as he helps you back to your feet.
“I love hearing you laugh.” He lightly touches your cheek. “Do you want to take a shower?” He gives you a cheeky smile. “With me? You can stay over… if you want, I mean. No pressure.”
You smile and nod. “I’d like a shower. With you. And sleep over.”
