#jonah simms

"You know, when I pictured what I'd be doing at this age, I always hoped it involved a forklift and a six-foot bear with dead eyes," (Y/N) said dryly, hoisting the last of the giant plush monstrosities onto the display shelf before she got down from the forklift.

Jonah adjusted the row of novelty mugs for the third time that hour. “You know,” he said, glancing sideways, “if these mugs were any more passive-aggressive, they’d be my mom.”

(Y/N) snorted, steadying the bear before it could tip over and crush a cardboard standee of Cupid. “This mug literally says, 'I guess you’ll do.' Romance is alive and well.”

The fluorescent lights above them flickered like they, too, were judging the display. Somewhere in the distance, a child shrieked bloody murder— likely over a dented box of candy hearts.

Jonah picked up one of the mugs and turned it in his hand, mock thoughtful. “‘I’m Yours. No Refunds.’ Honestly? Kind of hot.”

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow. “That’s your type?”

He shrugged. “I like a little emotional blackmail in my dishware.”

She nudged his side with her elbow, grinning. “That explains so much.”

He laughed and leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice like he was about to tell a secret. “I mean, if someone gave me this mug and a half-assed note, I’d probably propose on the spot.”

“Oh, so we’re setting the bar that low now?” she teased.

“I work retail, (Y/N). The bar’s in the stockroom buried under a broken price scanner and my will to live.”

She barked out a laugh. “That tracks.”

They were standing too close now— not that either of them minded. It was just the kind of comfortable proximity that happened when two people spent too much time in the same blue vests, in the same aisles, pretending they weren’t already halfway to a workplace romance.

Jonah reached over to fix one of the mugs she’d haphazardly placed. Their fingers brushed.

(Y/N) looked up at him. “Wow. Perfectionist and poetic. Dangerous combo.”

Jonah smiled, a little crooked. “Don’t forget modest.”

Before she could reply, a small gasp echoed from the end of the aisle.

They both turned their heads.

Sandra stood frozen like she’d been caught in the middle of an unspeakable act. Her eyes were wide, darting between Jonah and (Y/N), and she clutched her clipboard to her chest like it might shield her from whatever she thought she was witnessing.

She lifted one shaky finger and pointed at them. Then back to her clipboard. Then at them again.

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Jonah blinked. “Uh… hey, Sandra.”

Sandra said nothing. Just kept pointing. Now with both hands, her clipboard forgotten on the ground with a mild thud. Her lip trembled slightly, as though on the verge of tears, or a nervous breakdown, or both.

(Y/N) took a slow step forward. “Are you okay?”

Sandra squeaked. Literally squeaked. Then turned on her heel and walked away at a brisk, flustered shuffle.

Jonah and (Y/N) stood in silence for a moment.

Finally, (Y/N) said, “So… that felt normal.”

Jonah nodded. “Textbook Cloud 9 interaction.”

“Well, at least that’s the weirdest today has gotten.”

And just as Jonah was about to make another joke about flower arrangements, someone in the toy aisle screamed, “IS THAT A RACCOON?!”

They both turned toward the sound. And sighed.

——————————————————————————————————

The breakroom smelled vaguely like burnt popcorn and cleaning fluid. Glenn stood at the front near the whiteboard, nervously holding a laminated emergency protocol chart with one corner already chewed off— presumably by the raccoon still unaccounted for in the store.

“So,” Glenn began, “in the event that you see the raccoon again, please don’t try to lure it with peanut butter. Or beef jerky. Or Cheyenne’s perfume.”

Cheyenne, from the couch, raised a hand. “Okay, but it really liked my perfume. Like, aggressively.”

Mateo scoffed. “I’m just saying, if it’s still in the building, I vote we name it and train it to do returns.”

“You’re all missing the point,” Glenn said, waving the chart like it held divine authority. “This is a serious—”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” Dina cut in, not even looking up from her protein bar. “Glenn’s talking. Which means you listen and pretend to care.”

The room quieted— well, as much as it ever did. Jonah sat near the vending machine, one foot bouncing lightly. (Y/N) was across the table from him, chin propped on her hand, looking both amused and half-asleep.

Glenn cleared his throat. “Now. In case of wild animal invasion, the protocol is to calmly evacuate the aisle and alert management—”

“Like that ever happens,” Amy muttered.

“And not to scream and throw a clearance Nerf gun at it,” Glenn added, giving Marcus a meaningful look.

Marcus just shrugged. “Instinct.”

The conversation derailed instantly, as usual. Someone brought up whether or not they should build a raccoon-proof panic room. Mateo started a pitch for his “Emergency Escape Fashion Capsule.” Cheyenne offered to draw raccoon warning signs for every aisle.

And then, without warning, Sandra stood up.

She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, sitting stiffly in the corner, eyes fixed on the floor like she was building up courage for something big. Which, in Sandra’s case, meant something dramatic and deeply misguided.

“I just think,” she said suddenly, “that we should take a moment to appreciate that love can blossom anywhere. Even in a hostile workplace environment.”

Silence.

Everyone turned.

Garrett, eyebrows raised, leaned back in his wheelchair. “Okay… continue.”

Sandra swallowed, visibly shaking. “I mean— Jonah and (Y/N). It’s just so beautiful to see two people finally realize what they’ve been denying for so long.”

More silence, but this time of the awkward and stunned kind.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jonah looked around like maybe someone else was being referenced. “I’m sorry, us?”

"Sandra, genuinely, what the fuck?"

Sandra clutched the edge of the table like she’d just made a profound announcement. “I saw you. This morning. In Seasonal.”

Jonah frowned. “With the… mugs?”

Sandra nodded solemnly, like this explained everything. “And the bear.”

Cheyenne gasped. “Wait, you guys?”

Garrett leaned forward, looking far too entertained. “Hold on. You’re saying Jonah and (Y/N) are a thing now?”

Jonah opened his mouth. “No, absolutely—”

“Thank you,” Mateo cut in, nodding solemnly. “Because finally, someone else noticed.”

Jonah threw his hands up. “There’s nothing to notice!”

“Oh please,” Cheyenne said. “You were standing like, this close.” She held two fingers about a breath apart. “And Jonah was doing his soft eyes thing.”

“I don’t do a soft eyes thing,” Jonah said.

“You one hundred percent do a soft eyes thing,” Garrett said. “You do it every time (Y/N) says something even remotely sarcastic.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jonah muttered.

(Y/N) looked around the table. “Can we get back to the part where there’s a raccoon loose in the store? Or is that less important than whatever hallucination Sandra had?”

Sandra, quietly, “It wasn’t a hallucination.”

Mateo sipped his drink. “She’s doubling down. Bold.”

Glenn clasped his hands. “I always hoped love would bloom here. Even in the presence of pest infestations and frequent cart theft.”

(Y/N) looked around the room, expression blank. “I am begging you all to get hobbies.”

“That’s what people say when they’re caught,” Mateo said.

“Caught doing what?” Jonah asked, voice rising slightly.

“Being all soft and couple-y,” Amy replied, like it was a felony, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Glenn sniffled. “It’s just... nice, you know? Love in a hopeless place.”

Dina stood up, clearly done. “Alright. Break’s over. Glenn, your meeting has gone off the rails. You are spineless and a downright disgrace. As fun as this was, there is a raccoon loose in the store that we need to tend to. If I find that before you do, I’m keeping it.”

Everyone stood and filed out of the breakroom, still murmuring and exchanging knowing looks.

Jonah and (Y/N) stayed behind for a second. He gave her a look, somewhere between exasperated and amused.

“You think if we start actively being mean to each other, they’ll drop it?”

(Y/N) stood, grabbing her half-empty coffee. “Probably not. We’ll just end up on a different kind of list.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, next time I’ll just high-five you from across the aisle to avoid scandal.”

(Y/N) smirked. “I feel like that it will actively make it worse.”

Jonah opened his mouth, stopped, sighed. “Cool. Awesome.”

She paused at the door. “For the record? You do do the soft eyes thing.”

Jonah blinked. “What’s the—?”

She gave him a deadpan look as she leaned against the doorframe, then rolled her eyes and walked away, smiling. Jonah instinctively felt his entire demeanour change, soften, in fact.

Your hands froze mid-scan as you glanced up at him. “No,” you replied flatly. 

He grinned, undeterred by your lack of enthusiasm. “Haven’t seen you here before.” 

You gave a tight smile, noting the elderly woman in line behind him who was now eyeing her watch with growing impatience.

“Okay,” you said, your fingers tapping against the counter as you waited for him to insert his card into the reader. 

Jonah, who had been silently bagging, suddenly slowed his movements. His gaze darted between you and the customer, his usually bright demeanor dimmed by a flicker of something… darker. Was that jealousy? 

The guy leaned in closer, his grin widening. “So, uh, do you work all the time, or do you ever get out of here?” 

Your patience was wearing thin. “Just the forty-twenty,” you said pointedly, offering a polite but firm smile. 

Jonah cleared his throat, stepping closer under the guise of adjusting the bags. “Hey, man,” he said. “You might want to hurry up. There’s a line forming.” 

The guy glanced at Jonah, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Relax, dude. Just trying to make conversation.” 

Jonah smiled back, but there was a tightness to it that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure. Conversation’s great. But maybe you can have it after you pay?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Jonah’s tone was so uncharacteristically firm, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

The guy finally swiped his card, muttering something under his breath, and took his bags. He gave you one last lingering look before heading out. “See you around,” he called over his shoulder. 

Jonah exhaled loudly the moment the guy was gone. “What was that about?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. 

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence as you started scanning the next order. 

“That guy.” Jonah gestured vaguely toward the exit. “He was, like, this close to asking for your number.” 

You shrugged, trying to hide the heat creeping into your cheeks. “So what if he was?” 

Jonah paused, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for the right words. Finally, he settled on, “It was just... unprofessional.” 

“Unprofessional?” You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “He wasn’t that bad.” 

Jonah’s expression shifted. It was subtle, but it was there, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips pressed together. “He was hitting on you. At your workplace. That’s not cool.” 

“And you care because…?” you asked, your tone curious, though your heart gave a small, unexpected flutter. 

Before Jonah could answer, the older woman behind the teddy bear guy stepped up to the counter. You smiled apologetically at her. “Sorry for the wait.” 

The woman returned your smile, waving off your concern as she began rummaging through her purse. “No worries, young lady. I remember what it was like.” 

You tilted your head, intrigued. “Remember what was like?” 

The woman chuckled knowingly, pausing her search to glance up at Jonah, then back at you. “Having a wonderful boyfriend like this one—so protective of me.” 

You froze, caught completely off guard by the assumption. Your gaze darted to Jonah, whose wide eyes and rapidly reddening face mirrored your own shock. 

Jonah opened his mouth to clarify. “Oh, uh—no, we’re not—we’re not dating,” he stuttered, his voice cracking slightly. He let out an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “We’re just... coworkers. Friends. Not... you know, together-together.” 

The older woman arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, really?” She gave you both a knowing smile. “Well, could’ve fooled me. The way he stepped in earlier? That’s the kind of thing my late husband would’ve done when we were young.” 

You exchanged a quick glance with Jonah, whose face had turned an impressive shade of pink. His eyes darted anywhere but at you, and you had to bite back a laugh at his obvious discomfort. 

“Well, he’s just a good friend,” you said gently, handing the woman her change.

“Mm-hmm,” the woman said, her tone laced with skepticism as she took her receipt and nodded at Jonah. “Well, don’t wait too long to figure it out, son. Someone else might see what you’ve got here.” She winked at you before turning and walking away, leaving the two of you in stunned silence. 

Jonah rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh. “Well, that was... something.” 

You couldn’t help but grin as you turned to him. “You handled that well.” 

“Oh, sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because stammering like a teenager is totally handling it.” 

Well, since I’m not your girlfriend,” you teased, “you can at least buy me lunch sometime to make up for it.” 

Jonah looked up, startled by your suggestion, but then his expression softened, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Almost. I just need my purse," you say cheerfully, zipping up your own jacket and reaching into your locker for your bag. You sling it over your shoulder, closing the locker with a gentle slam. "All set," you say to Jonah, finding his kind eyes. His cheeks are still a little flushed from earlier, the lightest shade of pink dappling his gorgeous skin.

"Cool, let's go," he nudges his head towards the door, reaching his hand down to take yours. Your fingers intertwine, your palms tingling with excitement. The two of you head through the store, walking past empty aisles and other coworkers taking their leave.

"Have fun using my apartment, you two. You're lucky I had other plans tonight," Garrett says, wheeling alongside you.

"And what other plans would those be?" you ask curiously, though you already know the answer. Dina told you weeks ago in confidence that she and Garrett have been sleeping together. It's purely sexual, according to her.

"I've got an all-night game sesh with my buddies," Garrett replies coolly, though he's unsettled by the knowing look on your face. He's aware of how close you and Dina have become since you started here, he only hopes you won't go blabbing to Jonah about their secret hook-ups.

"Sounds good, enjoy it," you comment, wiggling your eyebrows out of Jonah's view.

"Oh, I will!" Garrett replies, his voice going up an octave, as it does when he's trying to hide something he finds embarrassing. He leaves you two alone, rolling out to the lot to wait for his Uber to arrive.

"'Night, buddy! See you tomorrow!" Jonah calls after him, a bit shocked that he didn't get reminded yet again to not leave the apartment a total mess.

"I just have to tell you right now, if you hurt Y/N in any way, I will sneak into your bed while you sleep and cut your balls off," Dina says, suddenly appearing directly beside Jonah, her tone serious and warning. He flinches at her presence, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Jesus, Dina!" he exclaims, bumping you both further to the left in an effort to put some distance between them.

"Ball cutting will not be necessary, Dina. But I appreciate you looking out for me," you say to her kindly, which makes her stone face melt into a pleased smile. You find it sweet that she's so protective of you, even if it comes off as extreme at times.

"Any time," she replies proudly, before clapping Jonah on the back. "Make sure you show her a good time, Keebler Elf," she comments before walking ahead of you to get to her car. You can't help snorting a little at Jonah being likened to a woodland creature that bakes cookies, it would be dishonest to say there's nothing elvish about him. It's part of his charm.

"Will do, Dina," Jonah says, sounding rather deflated. You look at him with pity, feeling bad for laughing at him.

"I'm sorry," you tut, stroking your free hand along his arm to comfort him. "If it's any consolation, you'd be the sexiest elf in the tree," you say in an effort to lighten the mood, which thankfully works, drawing a light chuckle from Jonah.

"How sexy are we talking, exactly?" he asks as you continue to mosey out of the store, taking your time before the doors automatically lock for the night.

"Hm.." you think on it for a moment. "Well, I'm picturing the front cover of an Erotic Elves calendar, like the kind firemen do for charity?" you explain, hoping he sees the vision.

"Ooh, very nice," Jonah laughs, very amused by your strange mind. You think quick on your feet, it's nice to have someone to banter with. "What month do you think I'd be?" he keeps the fantasy going, encouraging you to explore it with him as you finally make it outside into the cool November air. Halloween has barely come and gone, snow has yet to fall, though the air still nibbles at your nose on the way to Jonah's car.

"Oh, July for sure," you reply, already envisioning a very naughty image inside your head. "You'd be standing at a grill, wearing nothing but a chef's hat and apron and holding a pair of tongs in your hand," you describe the image vividly, losing yourself in it as you reach his car. He unlocks the doors, letting you both slip inside. You continue to talk, unable to stop yourself at this rate. "There'd be a hole cut out in the front of the apron, and your other hand would be holding your-" you cut yourself off, looking over at Jonah from the passenger seat.

He's staring at you intently, left hand on the steering wheel, right still gripping his keys with white knuckles. He's waiting for you to finish, needing to hear the rest. "My other hand would be holding what?" he asks softly, spurring you on while holding your gaze captive.

You swallow hard, nodding before you speak again. "Your other hand would be..." you trail off, realizing how stupid it sounds. He'll probably laugh when you tell him. But the can of worms has already been opened, there's no turning back now. "...your other hand would be...holding your...dick...in a...hotdog bun," the words slip out of you meekly, almost shamefully, and you pretty much want to die once it's over.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like hours, sitting in Jonah's cold car in the now empty lot of Cloud 9. You're waiting for him to react, to say something, to change his mind about taking you home with him, to tell you you're a weird loser. Anything to break through the painful silence. A sudden burst of laughter erupts from him, his expression still reading as friendly in the dim light of the store sign. You fall into the pit of amusement with him, laughing just as loud and hard as he does.

"God, you're cute," Jonah says sweetly, dropping his keys and reaching over to take your face into his hands. He leans in, guiding you to kiss him through your giddiness. Soft breaths and silly giggles escape you both, lips meeting and tongues prodding. You feel amazingly happy, with the reassurance that Jonah doesn't think you're weird in a bad way.

"So are you," you return the compliment, chasing his mouth with your own.

"But I thought I was the sexiest Keebler Elf," he reminds you, making your giggles grow stronger again.

"You are, trust me, you are," you insist, pushing to lead the kiss now. Your hands wander into Jonah's hair, needing to be closer to him. But it's a little uncomfortable to make out over the console between you, your torsos twisting unpleasantly.

"Okay, okay. Let's slow down a little bit. I haven't even gotten you home yet," Jonah says, regrettably pulling back from you. If he could manage it, he'd just keep you here all night, ravage you in the backseat like some lovesick teenager. But it's far too cold out, not to mention his vehicle's economical seating space doesn't make for a very good place to have sex.

"Okay," you pant, giving him one last kiss before releasing his hair from your grasp. You both face forward, Jonah picking up his keys to put them in the ignition. He turns the key and his eco-friendly sedan kicks to life.

"I do have one question, though," Jonah says, glancing at you before checking the rear view.

"Shoot," you say, wondering what he's got on his mind.

"On my...hotdog, were you picturing ketchup or mustard?" he asks with a cheeky grin.

"Relish," you answer simply, turning to look out the window to hide the blush in your cheeks. Not that he could see it as he drives through the dark lot anyway.

Jonah drives you to his place, the two of you keeping up light, non-sexual conversation. You could stand to cool off a little, the night is relatively young, after all. And you're feeling rather hungry. The only thing you ate today was some yogurt before work. Lunch was taken up by meeting Jonah in the photo lab, which was well worth your stomach rumbling very loudly inside the car.

"I was thinking we could order some pizza when we get to my place," Jonah offers, already thinking of a couple places still open this late as a backup.

"I'd like that," you nod, your stomach growling even louder at the idea. You spend the rest of the ride discussing toppings for the pizza, landing on veggie lover's as Jonah doesn't eat pork and most meats give you reflux.

Jonah pulls into the lot of a modest three-story apartment building, grey siding meeting white rooftops. He kills the ignition, leading you inside from the cold. He holds the front door open for you, pointing the way to the elevator. He presses the button to go up, taking your cold hand in his as you wait. You warm up quickly from his touch, you've always had poor circulation.

The elevator dings, the metal doors splitting open to let you inside. You step in together, the doors closing again a moment later. Unexpectedly, Jonah leans down slightly to kiss your neck, gently nuzzling his lips against you at first. You tilt your head to give him better access, moaning softly as he tenderly mouths at you. His perpetual stubble brushes against your supple skin, making you giggle as it tickles a little bit. You're heating up very quickly underneath your coat, and your extremities are tingling with delightful anticipation.

Jonah's lips leave you just as quickly as they arrived, right as you reach the top floor. You whine quietly at the loss, almost stumbling as you step off the elevator. A low chuckle leaves him at your lack of composure, the effect he has on you already is intoxicating. The two of you quietly walk down the hall, stopping outside Jonah's apartment. He pulls his keys from his jacket pocket, finding the right one and unlocking the door.

The door swings open to reveal a neat yet cozy living space. From the entryway, you can see a decent kitchen, the living room equipped with a nice gaming setup and shelves of movies. A comfortable couch sits opposite the electronics, soft pillows in the corners and a thick, folded blanket draped over the top. A short hallway leads to three rooms further away, which you assume are the bathroom and Jonah and Garrett's separate bedrooms.

"Oh, leave your shoes by the door, Garrett's really particular about that," Jonah says, pointing at the plastic tray beside you. A few pairs of sandals and snow boots rest on it, none of them in use for quite some time. You remove your shoes, and hang your coat and purse on the hooks behind the door. Jonah does the same, revealing his striped socks. Not exactly what you were expecting him to wear, but they seem comfortable.

"I don't think I've ever seen you with your shoes off," you comment, mundane as the observation may be. If it weren't for your insistence of wearing separate shoes for work (which stay in your locker when you're off shift), the same could be said for you.

"Well, to be fair, I'd never seen you with your shirt off either, until today," Jonah replies, his gaze drifting to your chest as he remembers how gorgeous your tits are.

"Big day for both of us," you giggle, blushing hard as he ogles you. It feels good to be desired, though you aren't used to it.

"Huge," he chuckles, clearing his throat after, yanking his eyes away from your breasts. "So, I'll order the pizza, and then I'll show you around. Sound good?" he says casually, pulling out his phone to call the pizza place.

"Yeah," you nod, watching as he steps into the kitchen to find the takeout menu stuck to the fridge, typing the number into his cell. You lean against the counter, looking around to distract yourself as he makes the call. There's a stack of mail beside you, various bills and local coupons; an iron throne-shaped bowl containing spare keys, pens, random change, and other mostly useless junk; a thrifted napkin holder, the silverware compartments stuffed with paper-wrapped chopsticks and plastic cutlery. It seems Jonah and Garrett order in quite often, which doesn't really surprise you.

Peering over at the fridge, there's all manner of magnets and sticky notes scattered about its surface. Tourist destinations, reminders to 'soak your pans after using', a mismatched bunch of alphabet letters, some of which are arranged into a cheeky message: these are not the snacks you're looking for. There's salt and pepper shakers by the stove, a collection of knives, basic utensils. Nothing out of the ordinary for a kitchen at all. Still, you find yourself in wonderment of being in Jonah's living space. All the normal, redundant things about the place feel unbearably interesting to you in this moment.

"'Kay, pizza will be here in half an hour," Jonah says, setting his phone on the counter and stepping closer to you.

"Tour time?" you ask eagerly, biting your lip in excitement.

"Tour time," he nods, just as pleased to show you his place, especially his room. He proceeds to show you the living room and a brief glimpse of the bathroom before leading you inside his bedroom. You do a small, slow circle to take it all in. Tasteful political posters on the walls; various books you've discussed together on his shelves; a small closet in the corner, the sliding door open to reveal his button-ups, jackets, and spare shoes; a dresser sitting beside the closet, the top of it littered with simple hair products, deodorant, and cologne.

And then there's the bed. Queen size, with blue and black plaid bedding, which looks very cozy and comfortable. A stubby night table rests on the left side, a square lamp sitting on top of it, along with his current read. Howard Zinn's The People's History of the United States.

"What do you think?" Jonah asks softly in your ear, standing behind you, watching you take in every inch of his room. Your keen interest has his head feeling dizzy, and his cock throbbing in his jeans. He's never seen someone so enraptured with everything about him before. He's never boring to you, you don't grow tired of him, or find him tedious, or tell him to shut up. You like everything about him, and you're practically desperate to learn more.

"It's really nice, cozy," you reply, barely above a whisper. You can feel his warm breath on your neck. You can sense his body so close to yours, but not quite enough to actually touch you. Your own breathing grows heavier, wondering what his next move is. When he doesn't seem to be making one, you take matters into your own hands.

You turn around to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. Jonah instinctively follows your lead as you walk him backwards toward the bed. His legs hit the edge of it, sending him flopping down onto the mattress. You quickly climb into his lap, crashing your lips onto his. Jonah groans against you, both from the warm taste of vanilla on your lips, and the feeling of you in his lap, resting on his rapidly stiffening dick.

You can feel him growing beneath you, hot and hard through all the layers of clothes between you. You roll your hips, whining into his mouth as his erection rubs against your clit. Jonah's hands grab your waist, keeping you steady as you start to grind against him. Your tongues dance wildly together, unabashed moans and groans leaving you both. Your panties are getting soaked again, the wetness bringing even more pleasure to your needy cunt.

"Y/N," Jonah moans, attempting to speak between kisses. "We should...probably wait...until after we eat...to have sex again," he says, unable to resist every press of your lips into his. You taste too sweet, too good to stop. And the way you're grinding yourself over him like you're in heat, he seriously can't get enough.

"I know," you reply, taking a second to breathe, though your hips keep going. "I just wanted to make out a little first," you explain with a smile, pleased with yourself. Jonah's cheeks are that gorgeous bright pink again, and his hair is a mess from your hands wandering into it once more.

"Oh, okay," Jonah nods agreeably, taking his turn to lead. He kisses you again, though his lips soon travel down to your neck, nipping and sucking a bit rougher now that there's no work to return to afterwards. You both happen to be lucky enough to be off this weekend, so any marks left behind will be faded by then.

"Jonah," you moan, grinding into him harder. The way his mouth feels against you, it makes your head spin in the best possible way. His hands wander upwards from your waist, caressing your sides, until they finally close over the mounds of your chest. He squeezes them roughly, earning another moan from your pretty lips.

"Feels so good," you sigh, unbelievably warm beneath your clothes. You cling to Jonah's dark locks as he feels you up, growing wetter by the second. The friction on your clit is exquisite as you continue to grind, you swear you could come just like this if you keep it up.

Jonah does everything he can to drive you wild, eating up your feral noises. Your hips roll harsher and faster into him, making him so hard he can barely stand it. Your breathing becoming heavier as the seconds pass, your moans growing higher in pitch. Your fingers wind deeper and deeper into his hair, keeping him latched onto your neck. Your thighs begin to twitch every few strokes, devolving your steady rhythm into a messy chase for release. He can see, hear, feel that you're getting dangerously close to an orgasm.

Jonah can't remember the last time he's made a woman come like this. Hell, he can't remember the last time he made out with someone like this, either. The way horny teenagers do when they fear getting caught by their parents in the next room. Briefly thinking back, it was probably in high school, or maybe college. Neither of which matters, because none of those girls are you. You are the one he's kissing and groping. You are the one who's riding his lap like it's your day job. You are the one who's seconds away from losing control. And there's nowhere he'd rather be, or anyone he'd rather be with.

"Oh...oh god," you moan, almost gasping as you're so close. Jonah nips harder against your throat in an attempt to set you off. He wants to feel you shaking in his arms, crying out his name. "Jonah, I...fuck, I think I'm gonna..." you trail off, losing track of the words altogether.

"It's okay, just let it go," Jonah says encouragingly, his tone tender and reassuring. His kind words send you careening off the edge, a rushed orgasm ravaging you from the inside out.

Your body trembles against him, your head burrowing against his neck. Your hips buck wildly, cries of swears and his name flying from your tongue. Jonah holds you steady as you ride it out, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you from falling over. You collapse into him, pressing a grateful kiss against his throat. His other hand strokes your damp hair, and he waits patiently for you to come back down to earth.

The sound of a knock at the door launches you back into your usual center of gravity, leading you to slip off of Jonah's lap so he can pay for the pizza. You notice he's still sporting a massive hard-on, looking around for something he can cover up with. You see a robe hanging in his closet, going for it and tossing it to him.

"Here. I'd hate for the pizza guy to think you're a creep and get you banned or something," you explain as he catches it with a confused expression.

"Good thinking," he nods in gratitude, slipping the robe on despite feeling rather overheated from your make-out. He leaves you for a moment, pulling out his wallet and opening the door. Devin, the usual driver at this hour, hands over the pizza in exchange for Jonah's cash. They leave the conversation at that, forgoing the typical pleasantries, since Devin can clearly tell by Jonah's wild hair that he has company. Jonah closes the door, setting the pizza down on the kitchen counter and doing away with the robe.

"All set, Y/N. I'll get plates and we can eat on the couch," he calls to you. You leave his room, legs still feeling like jelly. Jonah rifles around in the cabinets, turning around to find you stealing a mushroom off of the pizza and popping it into your mouth. "Couldn't wait?" he teases, setting a plate down in front of you.

"Nope," you answer, boldly plucking a bell pepper from the molten cheese. "Been starving all day," you add, feeling the need to be honest.

"Oh, well, by all means, go nuts," Jonah insists, waving his hand at you. He feels a bit bad for not knowing sooner, but he assumes you didn't want to be a bother.

"Don't feel bad, it's not like I said anything," you shrug, hoping he doesn't take it too seriously. It's your own fault, really. You're the one who spent your break seducing him, and you probably could've gotten away with munching down a granola bar while on the sales floor.

"True. But you can, you know. Since we're...I dunno...this," Jonah says, awkwardly gesturing between the two of you. He's overthinking, something he typically does when he gets involved with someone. "Sorry, I'm being weird," he shakes his head, clearing his throat and reaching for the pizza. You set down your plate for a second, putting your hand on his arm.

"Relax, Jonah. It's been one day. Less than a day. Tonight we're just having fun together. Making out, eating pizza, maybe watching a movie, having some sex. Anything else is something we can worry about later," you reassure him, offering a breezy smile. You don't know what it is, but being with him makes everything that used to cause you anxiety feel so much easier. You're the one talking him down, and it feels good.

"You're right," he nods, your newfound confidence putting him at ease. He's about to apologize again, but quickly decides against it. Everything's good, everything's cool. You're here to have a good time with him. No need to stress over it.

"I often am," you joke as you finish loading up your plate. Jonah chuckles at that, closing the pizza box and heading over to the couch with you. He sets his plate down, leaving you alone again for a minute to retrieve a couple beers from the fridge. He pops the tops, handing you one when he comes back. "Thanks," you say as you grab it, taking a small sip.

"Alright, let's see what we can find to watch," Jonah says, picking up the remote to turn on the TV. He opens up a streaming app, scrolling through the titles indecisively.

"Ooh, Pretty in Pink! I haven't seen that one in forever!" you say excitedly with your mouth full.

"You sure? Isn't it a little...problematic?" Jonah says uneasily.

"Oh, yeah. Duckie is a creep, Blane is a dickhead, and there's homophobic slurs. But it's still a great movie. John Hughes cannot be topped," you respond casually, still set on watching the 80's classic. Besides, once you're done eating, things will surely heat up again and you won't even be paying attention to the movie.

"Alright, Pretty in Pink it is," he agrees. He finds it refreshing that you at least acknowledge the elements of the film that haven't aged so well, even if you still enjoy it. He remembers liking it too, once upon a time. He probably naively related to Duckie when he was in high school, usually ending up as the friend when he wanted something more. He presses a button to start it, and the two of you settle in as the title track of the film begins to play.

It doesn't take long for the pizza to be devoured, by you in particular. You wipe the grease from your hands and face with a napkin, sitting back and waiting for Jonah to finish. Once he does, he cleans up the plates and empty bottles, washing his hands and returning to the couch after flicking off the light. He sits closer to you, putting his arm over your shoulder. You nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest and bringing your legs up from the floor to get comfortable.

When the film gets to the part where Andi and Blane are on their date at the stables of the country club, Jonah gently brings his free hand up to turn your head to face him. He's gazing at you sweetly in the dim light from the film, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He leans over to kiss you, just as the lovers on the TV do so. You melt against Jonah's lips, which now taste of pizza and beer. He slowly leads you to lie down, kneeling above you as your tongues come out to play.

Jonah slots himself between your thighs, and you can already feel his erection pressing into you. You wonder if he's been hard this whole time, though you imagine that would be a bit uncomfortable for him. Thinking you could provide him some relief, you bring your hand down to stroke him through his jeans, using the other in an attempt to open up his belt. But he stops you, putting his hand over yours.

"Don't worry about that yet," Jonah huffs, still chasing your lips as he speaks. "I've been dying to taste you since lunch," he says, almost sounding needy. He's been replaying the image of your cunt all day, the way it throbbed in the aftershocks of orgasm once he pulled out, thick drips of swirling clear and white drooling from your hole. He's curious if some of it is still there, stuffed deep inside your pretty pussy. He groans at the thought, and the fact that you haven't stopped groping him.

"Is that okay?" he asks, anxious for you to give him permission.

"Yeah," you nod, your lips still brushing against his. "Knock yourself out," you say with an excited smile. This is one of many (many) things you've pictured Jonah doing to you when fantasizing in your bed late at night. Again, you don't have much experience in the oral sex department. Well, on the receiving end, anyway. If the opportunity were ever to arise, you're sure you could suck Jonah's soul out of him in just a couple of minutes.

Jonah takes his chance, blindly searching for the button of your jeans as he keeps kissing you. He finds it, popping it open and undoing your zipper. He breaks away from your soft lips, sitting up slightly to pull your pants and underwear off. You help him kick them away, spreading your legs open for him. Your pussy glistens in the dim light, wet and ready for him. He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears he can see some of his own cum dripping out of you, white and sticky against rosy pink and a tastefully trimmed bush.

Jonah practically loses it altogether, quickly shimmying himself further down the couch to put his face in front of your cunt. He opens your legs up wider, stroking your thighs in his hands. You peer down at him, watching his pupils dilate with hunger. Your stomach flips in excitement, ready for him to have a taste. He slings your legs over his shoulders, giving you a begging glance, waiting for your approval. You nod silently, unable to come up with words. Your head is too filled with lust and wanting to think straight.

Jonah doesn't hesitate any longer, leaning his head down to kiss your pussy. He wants to start off slow, take his time to make you feel good. His lips press softly onto your slick folds, your clit, your tempting entrance. He's showing his appreciation for you allowing him such a privilege. And the lilted sigh you give him in return is all the reward he needs. He carefully slips his tongue out, prodding it against your sensitive bud.

"Oh," you moan at the warm, wet contact of Jonah's tongue. You hear him groan beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. He swirls his tongue around, finding every last sensitive little spot he can. Your hips buck when he swipes across a particularly stirring area, his grip tightening on you to keep you still. "Sorry," you say with a breathy chuckle.

"'s okay," Jonah replies, muffled as he continues to devour your cunt. He had a small sample of you earlier in the photo lab, but this is so much better. You're so soft and warm and the taste of you is perfect. He could do this all night if you'd let him. He likes to think he's pretty good at it, he learned this particular skill from a French exchange student that stayed with him when he was sixteen. Of course, he's had far more practice over the years, to a point where he feels he can leave a woman thoroughly satisfied. And so far, your pretty moans and gasps are proving him right.

You watch as Jonah worships your pussy, small groans leaving him as he does so, which vibrate against you in the best possible way. You aren't quite sure what to do with your hands, the sensation he's giving you is almost too much to bear. They fidget on your stomach, drawing Jonah's attention. Without pulling away or saying a word, he lifts one of your arms up by the wrist, resting your hand on his head. You take the hint, allowing your fingers to tangle in his silky hair. You give it a small tug, pulling him even further against your cunt. His eyes flick up to look at you, and though you can't see it, you just know he's grinning on the inside. He speeds up a little, using his lips and tongue together in patterns you can't even begin to recognize.

"Fuck, yes," you moan aloud, lost in pleasure. Your empty hand grips the edge of the couch, desperately clinging to it. You let your eyes fall closed, allowing yourself to focus on everything you're feeling. Jonah's talented mouth practically making out with your pussy, his nose bumping your clit and stubble tickling the folds of your thighs; his soft dark locks brushing between your fingers; the sweat gathering in the backs of your knees and then dripping down your legs; the knot of arousal snarling itself tighter and tighter inside you. Jonah takes things a step further, slipping his tongue into your needy hole.

"Jonah, oh god!" you gasp in surprise, tugging harder on his hair in response to this welcome intrusion. He licks up the evidence from your first time together, the taste of you and himself mingling on his tongue. His eyes nearly roll back into his head as he groans, his cock twitching harshly in his jeans. His turn will come soon enough, he reminds himself, keeping his focus on you, the beautiful woman currently writhing on his couch.

Jonah slips his tongue back out once there's no trace of this afternoon left to find, circling your clit instead. You whine at the loss of his wet muscle inside you, grinding your hips into his face as if to ask for more. He keeps his mouth on your sensitive bud, suckling at it with precision, offering his fingers as a substitute to penetrate you. He pushes one inside, curling it in time with the movements of his tongue. You moan in approval, though you can barely contain yourself at this point, rolling into him repeatedly now. Jonah adds another finger, picking up the pace once more.

"Fuck, I'm getting close...please...Jonah pleasepleaseplease don't stop," you whimper to him helplessly, fucking his face and holding him down and clawing at the couch all at once. It's all you can do to have some semblance of control, when in reality you are nothing but putty in Jonah's hands. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Mmf," Jonah groans into you, at a total loss at how feral and uninhibited you are. He's nearly suffocating in your grasp, but he doesn't want to stop. You're too close, he's too close. Everything about eating you out has been pushing him farther toward the edge than he initially realized, too caught up in the moment to notice. Until now. His cock aches inside his jeans, every moan and whine of his name from you pushing him further. He's sweating through his shirt, his hands slipping against your perspiring thighs. It's a wonder you can keep a grip on him at all with how soaked his hair feels. But he keeps going, pursuing your orgasm as well as his own.

"Ohhhh..." you whimper as your high rapidly approaches, like a stampede of horses barreling towards you, determined to mow you down. Your walls clench and pulsate around Jonah's fingers in anticipation, the rising sensation of euphoria quickly growing within you. "Fuck, I'm gonna come...oh, Jonah...yes, fuck!" you ramble incessantly, before your climax cuts you off with a loud gasp, followed by an even louder moan. Your thighs quake, your hands gripping Jonah's hair and the couch like a vice, volatile bliss exploding through every cell in your body. You come hard onto Jonah's face, slicking him down with sweet juices that he tries his hardest to swallow every drop of.

Tasting your release on his tongue is all Jonah needs to reach his own end, his stomach tensing. He moans against you one final time, his hips stuttering as he tries to control himself. But it's no use, he's gone pussy-drunk, slurping and suckling at you while his dick empties manic spurts inside his pants. He doesn't let up until you're pushing him away with twitching hands from overstimulation. He sits up, panting heavily while looking down at you. You're in no better shape than he is, your chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat coating your skin, eyes barely open.

"You good?" he asks, trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing thickly. "You?" you ask him, noticing his erection is gone and there's a damp spot forming on his jeans.

"Yeah," he nods, wiping his cum-soaked face with his hand. The two of you stay like this for a minute, letting the jelly legs and near-asthmatic breathing subside. Jonah goes to the kitchen to fetch glasses of water for you both once you're back to normal, and you chug yours down in seconds flat. He does the same, before helping you stand. You notice a small wet patch on the couch, looking at each other with the knowledge that Garrett is gonna be pissed when he finds out.

"Sorry," you say softly, though you aren't really sorry at all. It's one little stain, it'll wash out.

"It'll be fine, I'll pay to get it steam-cleaned," Jonah says, waving it off.

"I can chip in if you like. Since, you know, I technically made the...mess," you offer, but he just shakes his head.

"It's fine, Y/N, really," he says, smiling at your kind gesture. "So, uh, do you need me to drive you home?" he asks, making you frown. "No, no," he chuckles nervously. "I didn't mean it like that. I'd love for you to spend the night, if you want," he clarifies.

"I'd love that, too," you say sweetly, allowing him to gather your clothes for you and lead you to bed. You're absolutely exhausted, and it seems Jonah is, too. You feel a bit bad that you couldn't return the favor for him tonight, but there's always the morning to make up for it.

The two of you strip down, discarding your sweat-soaked clothes on the floor for the time being. Jonah lends you one of his old t-shirts to sleep in, pulling on a pair of fresh boxers himself, after cleaning up his own cum first. You slip under the covers together, laying on your sides, with Jonah spooned up behind you. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, nuzzling against you.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he says for the first time in person instead of over text, the idea sending him over the moon.

"Goodnight, Jonah. Thanks for having me over," you reply softly, barely fighting off sleep at this point. Your eyes grow heavy with the feeling of his arms around you, and his gentle breath fanning against you.

"We should do it again sometime," Jonah hums, drifting off as he gets the final word out.

"Yeah," you whisper, falling deep into dreamland yourself with a blissful smile on your face.