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dixonsdarkelf · 3 days ago

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This was hot as fuck and also so sweet and a goddamn ride from start to finish (no pun intended teeheehee 🤭).

“And then we have to see the barrel racing, obviously. Can’t come to the fair and not watch a bunch of cowboys do their thing. That would be criminal. Oh, and if I don’t get either funnel cake or kettle corn by the time we leave, I will riot.”

LMAO Reader is so cute, I love her.

But Joel saw the woman’s energy shift in real time from sweet to surprised. Her smile faltered like it had hit a pothole, and her eyes went sharp.

You can look away, ma'am. Keep your judgmental eyes to yourself 😤

His chest met your back first, solid and warm, and you stayed still as you let him fit behind you like a puzzle piece, with his legs bracketing yours, close enough that his knees brushed the backs of your thighs. When he bent over you, the hem of your skirt shifted just enough for the soft curve of you to press against the front of his jeans. He clenched his jaw, eyes locked on the clown’s face, trying like hell not to focus on how good you felt against him.

This man is already fighting for his life & we're just getting started.

You wanted this. Not just the fair or the games or the sugar highs. This. Him. His hand on your knee. Your legs over his lap. Your lips on his in front of a crowd that might judge the way you looked at him—an older man, years and miles ahead of you. But you didn’t care. You wanted people to see. Wanted them to know he was yours.

Love that Reader loves to show off her man 😌

You lit up, grabbing his hands and leading him to the floor, smiling wide as you pulled him into place. His hand found your waist and your hand curled into his, small and warm. You were already moving before he had a chance to think. He stumbled through the first few beats, stepping left when he should have gone right, but you didn’t mind. You were giggling, swinging your hips and mouthing the words to the song like it was written just for you.

Please the way he looks at her 🥰 It's all so sweet.

You broke the kiss eventually, barely, breath brushing over his lips as you smiled. “Think they got the message?” you asked, smug and breathless. Joel gave a low laugh. “Not sure. Might need to run it by ‘em again.”

I mean, if you insist 👀 Not gonna say no to you, beautiful.

You lingered, lips warm and sweet, your mouth soft against his, your hand rising to his jaw, nails grazing over the rough edge of his beard, and Joel shivered, a quiet sound catching in his throat.

🎶 It's getting hot in here🎶

Joel didn’t say anything right away. He just leaned in and pressed a kiss to your collarbone, then another just beneath it. Gentle, slow, barely-there pecks, all warm and wet and worshipful. He moved along the slope of your neck, your shoulder, tasting skin, breathing you in.

This is such a hot visual. I need to be put down 😵‍💫

This wasn’t just about convincing you you were beautiful. This was about showing you with every kiss, every touch, every look until you never doubted it again.

This is so sweet I'm fucking melting 😩

“…Did you just—?” You nodded against his neck, laughing, breathless and wide-eyed as you pulled back to look at him. “I think I did,” you whispered, grinning in awe. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I could do that.”

There's a first time for everything 👀

“You looked so damn good today,” he said, pecking you on the lips before breaking away just long enough to speak against your jaw. His voice was thick, hoarse, full of the ache he’d been carrying since the moment he picked you up. “All day, walkin’ around like that, in this little thing... you knew exactly what you were doin’, didn’t you?”

Neither confirming nor denying that one, baby 😉

“You make the prettiest little noises, baby girl,” he breathed against your neck, voice low and rough. His tongue dragged along the damp skin there, catching the salt as you moaned under him. “Pussy’s so wet for me, huh?”

Jesus fucking Christ 🥵

“Such a greedy little girl, ain’t ya?” he muttered, voice rougher than he meant, more strained.

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Your hips rolled again, slower this time, deeper, and Joel’s whole body tensed under you like a live wire. He hissed through his teeth, hands sliding down to grip the plush curve of your ass, thumbs digging in as he tried to ground himself, to breathe, but Jesus, it was like you were made to ruin him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he gritted, watching the way your body moved over his, the way your thighs flexed as you lifted up and sank back down, taking him in inch by inch. “Just like that, baby. You’re doin’ so good.”

Oh my fucking god...

“That’s it, baby girl,” he said, mouth hot against your throat. “Look at you, pretty little thing, ridin’ me so good,”

I'm gonna have to get up and walk away from my laptop for a while because WOW

He groaned from deep in his chest, hips bucking up into you as his cock throbbed inside you. His release hit him hard. His hands scrambled for something to hold, one sliding across your waist and thighs, squeezing hard as his vision blurred. The one in your mouth stayed, his other fingers tightening around your jaw and cheeks. Heat coiled through his spine, thick and hot, pouring into you as every muscle in his body tensed and shook.

I'm okay...I'm okay...I'm so normal about this. So normal.

“Okay,” you said finally, soft and sure, like it wasn’t even a question. “Yeah. I’m your girl.”

Aww yay! They got together!

This was hot with a capital H-O-T. Christ this was so good. Still crazy to me that you once thought about not bringing Joel onto your blog. Keep writing him forever and ever 🖤

I Like it, I Love It

I want some more of it

I try so hard, I can't rise above it

I don't know what it is 'bout that little girl's lovin'

But I like it, I love it, I want some more of it

Summary: Joel Miller knew he was going to hell. And if he wasn't sure before, he knew it for certain now. Especially when he picked you up and you were wearing that tiny denim skirt and your cowgirl boots. You’re half his age, and he’s old enough to know better. But with your fingers laced through his and that bright, infectious smile, he finally starts to forget the guilt and the shame. He might even let himself have fun. || smut MDNI 18+, also fluff, girthy (but legal!) age gap, rodeo / fair date, summer romance, no outbreak, Joel POV, shy!joel, soft!joel, new relationship, reader isn't a virgin but its her first time with joel, reader is afab, smallchested!reader, reader is a lil insecure of her body, slightly angsty!joel, he's feelin' guilty, joel miller is down bad, older!bf, car sex, pinv, praise kink, nipple play, nipple orgasm 👀, fingering, grinding, riding, a lot of kissing (like a lot), picture whichever joel you prefer, 'daddy' mentioned but no daddy kink, size difference || all my love to @littlcdarlin for our filthy discussions of tiny titties and joel miller loving you in a mini skirt. also of course @cavillscurls who has also helped me with ideas for this! y'all are filthy pervs just like me :)

Joel Miller had made peace with the idea of going to hell a long time ago.

The air smelled like fried dough and horses as you scampered ahead, all bounce and bright energy, the summer heat curling around your shoulders. There was a hum of excitement in the fairgrounds even from a distance, something charged and electric that settled deep in his chest, though he knew it had less to do with the lights and music and more to do with you.

You made your way in a tiny denim skirt, cowgirl boots kicking up dust, legs long and golden in the sun. All smooth, soft skin begging to be touched. And Joel figured, yeah, his seat in the fiery pit was reserved and waiting.

And touched you he had, just a little, just a polite hand on your knee during the ride over. He caught the way you glanced at him, the way your fingers twitched like you were tempted to take his hand and move it up your thigh yourself. You wanted more, and he did too. But he hadn’t crossed that line. Not yet.

Because Joel was a gentleman, or at least trying hard to be one. You were only a couple of months into… whatever this was. Dating? Seeing each other? Going steady? You hadn’t defined it and Joel hadn’t asked, partly because he was terrified if he put a name to it, it might fall apart, and partly because he still couldn’t quite believe you were even here with him. That a girl like you had looked his way in the first place. Most days, he felt like a man trying to catch lightning in a bottle, grateful but always expecting it to slip out of his hands.

Still, the guilt sat just behind the thrill. You were young. Young enough that he should know better. He could see it in the way people looked at you, the way they looked at him when you were together. Sometimes he felt himself spiraling a little, late at night when he was alone, wondering what the hell he was doing letting a girl like you anywhere near him.

Up ahead, you grabbed a spot in the ticket line and turned back to him with that familiar light in your eyes, the kind that made it impossible not to smile back. Joel caught up, slow and steady behind you, hands in his pockets, already fighting the urge to touch you again.

“Before I get too distracted, we need a plan,” you said as you moved up a step. You glanced at the handful of people still ahead in line, then turned to face him fully, eyes bright and serious in that teasing way of yours. “What do you wanna see?”

Joel shrugged, more interested in the way your lips curved up than in any of the rides or games. “What do you wanna see?”

You held up a hand, ticking off your demands. “Spray and Race game. I will be kicking your ass at that, by the way.”

Joel nodded, amused.

“Can’t have that,” Joel said, letting a chuckle slip out as he rested his hand on the small of your back, guiding you gently forward with the line.

You looked up at him again, smiling like you couldn’t help yourself. “Okay, but seriously, what do you wanna do?”

Joel shrugged, easy. “I’m happy doin’ whatever makes you happy, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Cornball.”

He kissed your hairline gently and you stepped up as the ticket booth opened.

“Two, please,” you said, cheerful as anything, leaning your elbows on the wooden counter.

The woman behind the plexiglass had a kind face, her cheeks round and flushed, oversized glasses magnifying her eyes making them look cartoonish. She gave you a warm, buttery smile as she slid the tickets toward you.

“Here you go, dear,” she said sweetly. “Y’all enjoy the fair now.”

Joel reached into his pocket to pay and slid a couple bills across the counter. Before he could tuck his wallet away, you turned, leaned up, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth in quiet thanks. It was just a soft, grateful thing, casual and comfortable. Nothing out of the ordinary for two people dating.

But Joel saw the woman’s energy shift in real time from sweet to surprised. Her smile faltered like it had hit a pothole, and her eyes went sharp.

Joel flushed to the tips of his ears, but you were already thanking her, plucking the tickets from her hand like nothing had happened.

And just like that, you were off again, sunlight on your shoulders, tickets in hand, skirt swaying as you moved toward the fairgrounds. Joel smiled politely at the woman who was now fully glaring daggers into him, and he turned to follow you.

“This thing is rigged!” you huffed, letting go of the water gun with an exaggerated sigh.

The plastic clown stared back at you with its chipped paint and smug little smirk, like it knew exactly how badly you’d missed the mark. You crossed your arms, glaring at it as Joel laughed behind you, the sound low and warm in his chest.

He wasn’t laughing at you, not really. There was too much affection in it. He was caught somewhere between loving the look of focused frustration scrunched between your brows and fighting off the sudden urge to win you the biggest stuffed animal at the booth, just to see your face light up again.

So he stepped forward, doubts flaring in his gut for half a second before he shoved them down and moved in close behind you.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward.

He raised his hands, letting them hover a moment before easing them down, covering your smaller ones with his own. His palms were wide and rough, fingers slipping into the empty spaces between yours until you were surrounded by him, snug in his arms, your hands now steadied on the plastic grip of the water gun.

Your next breath was sharp and audible. He felt it echo in his ribs.

He adjusted your grip on the plastic gun, his hands never leaving yours, “Let me show you how it’s done,” he murmured, voice low near your ear, and he felt the reaction ripple through you.

Your arms tensed at first, then softened, and he could see the goosebumps rising along your skin, catching the light.

He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as he did. Probably shouldn’t have let his lips graze the shell of your ear. But he was already in it now, already pressed against you, mind foggy as the smell of your vanilla perfume invaded his senses.

“Deep breath in,” he said, quieter this time, watching the way your lips parted as you listened, your chest rising beneath his. “Slow breath out.”

He swallowed hard, trying not to think about how natural this felt. How right. He focused on the target instead. The clown, the ridiculous game.

“Gotta squeeze the trigger like you love it.” he murmured.

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, you moved back into him, and he felt the swell of your ass push into his lap even more.

But before he could react to the feeling of your warm body pushing into his, the starting bell rang, loud and shrill, snapping both of you into motion. Joel pressed his finger over yours on the trigger, guiding the plastic gun with a steady grip. Water sprayed clean and fast, hitting the target right in the center.

You gasped softly, maybe surprised it was working, maybe still recovering from how close he was. Joel kept his focus, eyes on the game, though it was damn near impossible with the way you felt against him.

“Gentle, steady now,” he said when he felt your aim start to slip, adjusting your elbow with a nudge.

The buzzer went off a second later, a shrill little chime of victory as the clown’s mouth filled and your light blinked bright red at the top of the board. You’d won–first place, of course.

Joel eased back, slower than necessary. His hands lingered a second too long on your waist before he finally stepped away, the heat of you still clinging to him even as you turned with wide eyes and a grin that could’ve leveled him.

“I won?” you said, eyes lit up, like you couldn’t quite believe it.

He nodded, watching you, unable to look away. “You won.”

You picked out a prize without hesitation, grabbing the biggest, fluffiest looking stuffed animal on the rack and hugging it tight to your chest. Joel didn’t even care what it was. All he saw was your face, still flushed from the game, eyes shining, mouth curved in that soft, teasing way you got when you were proud of yourself.

The day stretched long in that golden, syrupy way only Texas summers could manage. The kind that made the day feel like it went too fast and too slow all at once. Joel let you lead him from one booth to the next, happy to be tugged along whether you were forcing a cowboy hat onto his head or pressing cotton candy to his lips. It was far too sweet for him, but he still smiled and shared bites with you, watching the sugar dissolve on your tongue. But it wasn’t the thought of his teeth rotting that did him in that day. No, it was the taste of your lips when you leaned into him, sticky-sweet and warm as you kissed him again and again, always grateful for buying you whatever you asked for.

Later, at the rodeo arena, you led him up into the metal bleachers with a half-finished bag of kettle corn tucked under one arm and your stuffed bear you won in the other. The crowd buzzed around you, cheering and stomping as the barrel racers burst out into the dirt, all speed and muscle. Bulls followed, snorting and kicking against the reins, the announcer’s voice booming over the speakers like thunder rolling through a canyon.

At some point, you shifted. Instead of sitting beside him with your legs stretched out straight like everyone else, you turned and draped them across his lap. Your thighs settled on him, warm and bare, boots dangling off the other side of his legs. You leaned back on your palms, smiling up at him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Joel rested his hand on your knee without thinking, like it was second nature now. But something in his chest shifted, slow and deep. Watching you watch the riders, your body relaxed and fully at ease in his, he felt it settle into place like a quiet truth.

And Joel wasn’t sure what the hell to do with that. With the quiet, aching certainty that you didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. That you wanted him, plain and simple. Because the truth, the part he couldn’t shake no matter how sweet this all felt, was that he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

He was too old. Not just in birthdays, but in body and mind. Every morning he woke up sore in places he didn’t used to notice. He needed two cups of coffee before his brain even came online. He’d lived more lives than he wanted to admit, made more mistakes than he knew how to name.

And still, here you were. Laid up across him like it was the only place you belonged. Smiling up at him like he hung the damn moon.

He swallowed hard and looked down at your knee beneath his hand. Your skin warm, your body settled into his like you’d been doing it for years.

You were real. This was real.

And maybe… just maybe, he was allowed to want it, too. Even if he was still trying to believe he had a right to.

By the time the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, the fairgrounds glowed with soft light, strung bulbs swaying between posts and tents, flickering like lightning bugs trapped in glass. The air had cooled, but instead of slowing down, you pulled Joel into a wooden building near the edge of the fairgrounds with a painted sign outside on the windows that said:

Swing Dancing Tonight: Live Band!

Joel followed you inside, the bar buzzing with life as people line danced on the floor, women and men alike to an old honky tonk song. The band was lively and energizing as he ordered you drinks at the bar. But before he could even hand you yours, you were already in the middle of the dance floor. So he sipped his beer, watching you sway and stomp to the song. He could watch you like this for hours, thumbs in your belt loops, hips swaying to the rhythm as the drums beat through his chest. He watched how your legs moved, long and shining in the bar light, the way your skirt hugged your hips so perfectly as you turned, giving him the perfect view of you. You were all confidence and charm, laughter rising over the music as you spun yourself in a circle or stepped just slightly out of time.

Then, the song ended, and another started. One he actually recognized.

Spent 48 dollars last night at the county fair

I throwed out my shoulder, but I won her that teddy bear…

“Joel,” you said, breathless and bright, pointing at him with one hand and waving him over with the other. “You know this one, don’t you?”

She's got me sayin' "Sugar Pie", "Honey", "Darlin'", and "Dear"

I ain't seen the Braves play a game all year

He felt a grin twitch at the edge of his mouth but didn’t move. Just shook his head slightly and kept his arms folded over his chest.

Your face scrunched into the kind of pout that always worked on him. “Aw, come on,” you pleaded, stepping closer. “Come dance. Please?”

Joel glanced around. The room was full of couples—young people, mostly, folks your age with their arms around each other, moving with an easy rhythm. There were a few older couples too, clinging close, still smiling like they remembered falling in love every time the music hit them just right. Joel didn’t see anyone else who looked like you and him. The difference in age stuck out like a sore thumb. He knew how it looked. He always knew.

But then he looked back at you.

The way you were beaming at him, not caring who was watching. Not ashamed or holding back. You wanted him, wanted to dance with him, here, now, in front of all these strangers, like none of it mattered.

I'm gonna get fired if I don't get some sleep

My long lost buddies say I'm getting in too deep

He exhaled slowly, then dropped his arms and nodded. “Alright.”

But I like it, I love it, I want some more of it

I try so hard, I can’t rise above it…

Joel watched you, half focused on the dance, half lost in the way your smile grew wider each time he got it right. And he did get it right, eventually. Something about the rhythm caught him. Something about your fingers tightening just slightly in his hand each time the music swelled.

Don't know what it is 'bout that little girl's lovin'

But I like it, I love it, I want some more of it

He spun you around, and when you landed back in his arms, you pressed in a little closer, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and something soft in your eyes. Joel felt the guilt unravel a little more. It didn’t disappear, but for the first time that day, he stopped listening to the nagging voice in his head that told him he was no good for you.

Then a tap on your shoulder pulled him out of it.

“Excuse me,” a voice said.

Joel turned, keeping one arm around your waist. You paused too, breath catching in your chest from the last spin. A man stood just beside the two of you. Tall, dressed in boots too clean for real ranch work, and smiling a little too confidently.

“Can I help you?” you asked politely, eyebrows lifting.

The man looked between you and Joel, then nodded toward you.

“I was wonderin’ if I might steal you from your daddy for a dance.”

Joel felt your spine straighten where his hand laid across it. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He waited for your reaction. Because, after all, this young man was closer to your age and seemed like someone you should be dancing with if it wasn’t for him.

“No thanks,” you said, sweet as anything. “I’m perfectly happy to keep dancin’ with my daddy.”

And when you turned to Joel smiling, it was with a wink. Surely not very subtle, and not in the least bit shy. His stomach flipped. He might’ve choked on the word if he hadn’t been too focused on keeping his mouth shut and his hands respectful.

The man blinked, frowned, then gave a quick nod before turning back toward the crowd.

Once he was gone, you turned back into Joel, your hands finding his chest again, your grin sharp.

“So rude.” you shook your head with a little grin.

Joel chuckled low in his throat. “Poor kid’s probably off pouting after bein’ turned down by a pretty thing like you.”

You laughed, eyes bright. “Well, maybe next time he’ll think twice before trying to cut in.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

You leaned in, “You think I’m lettin’ anyone else dance with me tonight?”

He didn’t get the chance to answer before you moved in even closer, lips just shy of his.

“Why don’t we make sure everyone in this place knows exactly how much I like my daddy, huh?”

And then your mouth was on his.

Your hands slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing skin, tugging just enough to make his knees want to give. Your lips were hot, certain, hungry, certainly not the casual kind of kiss you gave him earlier in the day, out on the fairgrounds, sweet and easy in thanks.

No, this was all for him, a kiss with weight behind it. With purpose and damn near possession.

Joel’s hands slid around your waist, fingers pressing into the small of your back. He pulled you close, pressed his mouth harder against yours like he was drowning and you were the only air he had left. The music thumped somewhere in the background, but he barely registered it. You were all he could taste. Sugar and sweat and something warm that settled heavy in his chest.

You broke the kiss eventually, barely, breath brushing over his lips as you smiled.

“Think they got the message?” you asked, smug and breathless.

Joel gave a low laugh. “Not sure. Might need to run it by ‘em again.”

And then he was kissing you all over again.

Eventually, the music wound down and the last of the dancers trickled out. Voices quieted, boots scuffed across the old floorboards toward the exit, and the warm hum of the fair outside dimmed to a gentle hush. The tents had started closing down, lights blinking off one by one, vendors packing up what was left of the night. It was quieter now, the energy settling like dust in the air, and Joel walked beside you back toward the parking lot, your fingers looped loosely in his.

The moon was high and clear, silver light stretching over the dirt and gravel. The air had cooled just enough to feel like relief after a day of heat and sun, and the scent of fried dough and hay still hung faint on the breeze.

He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up with a hand at your waist before closing it gently behind you. Then he circled around, climbed into the driver’s seat with a low groan in his knees, and exhaled hard as the silence wrapped around the two of you.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you said, voice soft in the quiet, eyes turned toward him as you set your teddy bear in the back seat.

Joel looked over with a slow, tired smile curling on his mouth. “Me too, baby.”

He leaned across the console and tipped his chin up slightly, looking down at your mouth, just to invite you in. He meant for it to be a quick kiss. A thank you. Something simple.

But the moment your lips touched his, it was anything but a simple kiss goodnight.

You lingered, lips warm and sweet, your mouth soft against his, your hand rising to his jaw, nails grazing over the rough edge of his beard, and Joel shivered, a quiet sound catching in his throat.

He didn’t dare move, not when you deepened the kiss like that, the press of your lips firmer, the way you breathed into him like you were trying to get as close as you could. Your tongue slipped forward, slow and teasing, and Joel swore his heart damn near stopped.

He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, fingers spread along your smooth jaw, and tilted your face to kiss you fuller. Your lips parted for him, welcoming, and when his tongue met yours, you gave the softest little gasp, like it startled something in you.

Then you shifted closer and he barely had time to register it before your hand braced against his chest and you pushed, guiding him back into his seat. His breath caught, pulse thudding in his neck as you climbed into his lap, straddling him like you’d done it a hundred times. Your knees pressed into the leather on either side of him, the denim of your skirt hiking up just enough to make him dizzy.

“Baby, what’re—” he started, voice rough, but the question never made it past his mouth. Because then you were kissing him, really kissing him, and everything else seemed to disappear.

Your hands slid up into his hair, fingers tugging gently, grounding yourself as your mouth moved over his with something between hunger and certainty. You were warm and pliant against him, chest brushing his, thighs squeezing around his hips. His head spun with the closeness, the heat, the soft weight of you in his lap.

You’d done this before, though it was all you’d done together, all the kissing and heavy petting to last a lifetime. Joel was content with it, never wanting to push for more. His hands found your waist, steadying you there, not to stop you, but partially to feel you, partially to anchor himself. You moved with a slow rhythm, your body pressing in, every little shift setting him further on edge. You kissed him deeper and hungrier with each passing moment.

His fingers flexed against your sides. You were already breathing hard, your mouth dragging over his, then down to his jaw, where you pressed a few kisses there too, so soft and addictive. Joel tipped his head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, and let himself feel it.

The truck windows were already fogging up from the heat between you. Sweat prickled at the base of his neck and your thighs were warm around him, your hands still tangled in his hair, and when you whispered his name against his lips between kisses, he felt the restraint in him begin to fray.

But when you pulled away to press your forehead into his, he saw the furrow in your brows, the pained look across your face as you spoke for the first time.

“Please, Joel,” you breathed into his mouth, lips wet against his, soft and trembling with want. “I’m ready. I want you.”

The words cut through the haze in his skull like a hot knife. He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs resting beneath your jaw. His calloused fingers tilted your head gently, angling you toward the windshield where the streetlamp's glow filtered through the dusty glass. He needed to see your face, to find your gaze and to know you were sure. Your eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide, lips parted and swollen from his kiss. You looked like sin incarnate, lit up in the dim streetlamps, and it made something deep inside him curl and twist and clench.

“Baby…” he murmured in warning, his voice barely holding together. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep telling you no.

But you didn’t look uncertain. Not even close. Your fingers dug into the front of his shirt, clinging to the fabric like it might disappear if you let go, and then your hips rolled forward, grinding into the hard, aching shape of him beneath his jeans. He swallowed hard, trying to hold on to reason, but the friction sent a jolt through him that scrambled every logical thought.

“I mean it,” you said, voice cracking open with need. “I need it so badly. Need you.”

He studied your face, silent, trying like hell to slow the blood roaring in his ears. There was a flicker of hesitation—one that made his heart stutter—but it wasn’t yours. It was his. Because deep down, Joel knew he should stop this. Knew he should say something responsible, something like let’s wait, this ain’t the place, I don’t wanna rush you. We should wait til we get you home. Something that would make him a better man than the one currently hard and straining beneath your thighs.

He couldn’t stop the wriggling worm in the back of his head that kept telling him you were younger. Too young for him. But you were looking at him like he was the answer to every ache in your body, like you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. That look alone was almost enough to make him want to stop this entirely. Almost.

But then your mouth found his again, and you moaned into the kiss, and whatever was left of his restraint dissolved under the heat of your breath. You sounded like you were made to fall apart for him. You felt like a fever in his arms, your skin hot and soft and flushed. And he wasn’t strong enough to let go.

“Christ,” he muttered, and his hands slid down from your face back to your waist, pulling you tighter into his lap. The denim of your skirt had already hiked up too far, bunched high on your hips as you straddled him. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at you all day. Your legs, the way that skirt clung to your curves, the fucking sway of your hips when you walked away from him. Now, with you on top of him, split open around his thighs, skin warm and trembling, it was like every filthy thought he’d buried was clawing to the surface.

And God, the way you moved against him, slow and teasing, your skirt nearly around your waist, the bare stretch of your skin beneath his hands, the greed built up in him even more than ever before. Not just to have, but to see.

He pulled back, just an inch, his voice low and rough. “Can I… see more of you?”

Your breath hitched as you pulled away, and you didn’t answer, not at first. You sat there, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide, and he was nervous he crossed a line, that this wasn’t what you meant when you said you wanted him. He held his breath, but then, sighing, you nodded, maybe a little too quickly. Reaching for the hem of your top with shaky fingers, you paused as you brought the fabric up halfway, like something caught in your throat.

Joel noticed. “Hey,” he said gently, brushing your wrist with his thumb. “What is it?”

You didn’t meet his eyes when your voice got quiet, “I just… I know I’m not—I mean, I don’t have very big… you know.”

The words barely made it out, and Joel felt something in his chest pull tight. You were still holding your shirt, halfway lifted, frozen.

It was odd, seeing you lose that confidence that you held earlier. He watched you all day, playful and devilish in your flirtations with him. But now, now that it was just you two in the cab of his truck, he was seeing between the lines.

He sat up straighter, his hands steady as he helped you lift it the rest of the way, slow and careful, like peeling back something sacred. He tossed it into the footwell without looking. His focus stayed on the soft curve of your chest rising with each breath, the barest quiver in your chin as you tried not to read his expression too hard.

Then he looked up at you, voice quiet but thick.

“What, these?” he said, quiet and low, barely more than a breath. His hands came up, big and warm, palms open as they slid gently to cup you. He wasn’t grabbing or groping, but feeling. Mapping you out. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as he let the pads of his fingers learn you one soft inch at a time.

“But look,” Joel cooed, eyes flitting between your eyes and where his hands swallowed you, thumbs brushing lightly along the curves of your breasts. “Look how perfectly they fit in my hands.”

And they did. God, they did. His hands were weathered, rough in a way that made him almost hesitate, but you didn’t flinch or tense under his touch. You watched him, wide-eyed and flushed, your lips parted, chest rising fast beneath his broad hands. He couldn’t stop staring. His big, work-worn hands looked even larger against you, rough knuckles against smooth skin, thumbs grazing tender flesh. The contrast made his pulse spike, his brain full of static.

His hands flexed without thinking, fingers cradling you a little firmer. The weight of you in his palms, the way your body gave under his touch lit something in him that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with awe. Like this wasn’t just about wanting you. It was about having you trust him enough to let him look at you like this. There was a moment, maybe two, where Joel seemed to freeze in it, torn between restraint and reverence, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep going or just stay like this, memorizing the way you felt in his hands.

You made a soft noise in the back of your throat, a breathy, barely-there whimper when his thumbs grazed your sensitive nipples again, and he felt it like a bolt down his spine.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice thick. “You feel how perfect you are?”

You hesitated at first, fingers fisting into his shirt at the shoulders, then nodded, slow and shaky, and he could tell you were trying to say yes, but the words wouldn’t come. Your hands slid down his arms instead, fingers curling around his biceps as you leaned in closer, your back arching into his touch. Joel could feel the way your hips shifted, how you melted into him inch by inch.

He kissed your neck again, slower this time, then your collarbone, trailing heat with every little peck. Then lower, just a little, until he was brushing his mouth across the swell of your chest. Not hungry or greedy, just gentle, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver against him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured into your skin, his voice gone hoarse.

You shook your head quickly, and he felt your hands tighten around his arms.

“Not stoppin’,” you whispered, barely audible.

Joel smiled against your skin, and one hand lifted to brush a thumb across your nipple, slow and light, just enough to make your breath catch.

You arched into him then, eyes fluttering shut, your whole body moving without thought, and Joel felt something in his chest crack wide open.

This wasn’t just about convincing you you were beautiful. This was about showing you with every kiss, every touch, every look until you never doubted it again.

He didn’t wait long after you gave him permission, just enough time to kiss his way back up to your jaw, watching the way your mouth stayed slack, your eyes heavy-lidded, drunk on him already. He liked you like this, pliant and sweet and soft. He wanted you out of your head and into your body, melting into his hands and mouth and all the ways he knew how to love someone without saying a word.

Joel dipped his head again, this time without restraint, and took one of your nipples into his mouth. His lips closed around you slow and warm, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in quick, flat strokes. You gasped, your hands shooting up to grip his hair, hips stuttering forward into his lap as your body twitched under the sudden wave of sensation.

He groaned against your skin, the sound rough and real, because fuck, the way you reacted to him from such a simple touch would damn near ruin him for good.

His hands gripped your waist, steadying you, keeping you anchored as he licked and sucked, teeth just barely grazing before his tongue smoothed over the bite. Your thighs trembled around his hips. You were panting now, your body moving without hesitation, instinct driving you to grind down onto him in slow, desperate rolls.

“Joel,” you breathed, high and quiet, your voice caught between pleasure and disbelief. Your back arched hard, head falling back, spine pulling tight like a bow. “Oh my God—”

He didn’t stop. He moved to your other breast, lavishing just as much attention, his hands sliding up your back to hold you steady while your whole body writhed in his lap. Your hips rolled down again, this time firmer, needier. Joel could feel how soaked you were through your panties, and the friction making his head spin.

You were panting harder now, moaning freely, completely gone, and Joel had no fucking clue how he was keeping his own composure. All he knew was he didn’t want this to stop. He didn’t want to do anything but keep you falling apart right there in his arms. He closed his lips around your nipple again, sucking harder this time, tongue dragging over the sensitive peak before he gave it a sharp, deliberate nip. The sound you made had every ounce of his blood roaring to his cock.

And then he felt you shuddering against him. A full-body, violent, uncontrollable shaking of your limbs as your thighs clamped around his hips, your back arched so hard it looked like it might snap. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your whole body seized against him.

And then you collapsed forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing fast, chest heaving.

Joel pulled away and blinked, stunned, his hands still holding you gently in place, too afraid to move.

“…Did you just—?”

You nodded against his neck, laughing, breathless and wide-eyed as you pulled back to look at him.

“I think I did,” you whispered, grinning in awe. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I could do that.”

Joel stared at you like you were the most miraculous thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

His heart was thudding like a drum. His whole body was vibrating with adrenaline and want, but more than that—God, more than that—he was absolutely done for. Completely head-over-heels wrecked by the way you smiled at him, still shaking, still glowing, sitting there on top of him like you belonged nowhere else.

He let out a low laugh, forehead resting against yours, the both of you sweaty and flushed and grinning like idiots.

“That was the most amazin’ thing I think I might’ve ever seen.”

You giggled, brushing your fingers through his sweat damp hair, gaze dipping down to his lips, swollen and wet from everything you’d just shared. Your thumb dragged along his jaw, soft and slow.

“I was serious, you know,” you said, quieter now. The words felt heavier, more deliberate. “I’m ready. If you are.”

The smile tugging at his mouth faded gently, not with worry, but with something more careful, something reverent. He lifted his hand, fingertips tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His eyes searched yours, wanting to be absolutely sure he’d heard you right.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Here?”

You nodded, biting your lip, and he saw it in your face—you meant it. You weren’t offering it out of heat or thrill or to prove a point. You were giving it because you wanted him. Because this was where you felt safe.

Joel exhaled, slow and shaky, and let his hands drift down to your thighs. He started at your knees, broad palms dragging up the delicate skin, every inch of contact slow and unhurried. When he reached the edge of your skirt, his fingers slipped beneath it, warm and steady, thumbs sweeping along the crease where your legs met your hips.

You were soft and warm. His fingers slid further up, curling around the backs of your thighs, then higher, gripping your ass with both hands and pulling you closer into his lap, only your pair of panties and his denim between the two of you. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden pressure, your hips grinding down against him in a way that nearly made him lose his composure right then and there.

He nipped at your skin, lips brushing over your jaw, the curve of your neck. Your breath caught again, your nails scratching lightly over his chest as you rolled your hips, and he swore under his breath.

“Joel,” you whispered, his name cracked open on your tongue, a whine that made his stomach clench. You were so soft over him, so willing, like you belonged there, like you knew he wouldn’t say no.

“I got you,” he whispered, kissing the underside of your chin, then lower, pressing his mouth to the hollow of your throat. “I got you, baby. Just… tell me what you need.”

“Touch me,” you begged, voice breaking into pieces, desperate and trembling. “Please. More. Just—more.”

He should’ve stopped. Even now. He knew that. This wasn’t some clean-cut moment, some perfect night. You were in the front seat of his truck, in some nowhere parking lot, and he was hard as stone beneath you, pulse hammering behind his ribs like a war drum. But the way you said please, as if asking for something as important as the air in your lungs, shattered the last of his resolve.

His hands moved even further up the back of your thighs, kneading your ass in his thick fingers, pulling you closer to him. His fingertips were nearly touching as they brushed the sides of your lace panties and found the heat of you, the fabric clinging to your pussy as your arousal stuck to the cotton. Every one of his rational thoughts disintegrated. A deep, guttural sound tore from his chest, something raw and entirely outside himself, and his mouth found your collarbone, teeth dragging over the skin, tongue smoothing it over.

You whimpered, the sound muffled as you buried your face in his shoulder, and his hands tightened on your ass, holding you steady as his fingers traced over the damp cotton. He could feel everything through it—every ridge and dip, the soft, swollen lips beneath the fabric, the way you pressed into his touch like your body was trying to pull him inside.

“Jesus,” he muttered, breath stuttering, eyes fluttering closed for a second like the weight of it was too much. “Baby... this all for me?”

You whimpered, burying your face further against his neck, your arms wound around his shoulders now, trying to hold on as his fingers moved with slow pressure over the damp cotton, mapping the shape of you.

With a little more pressure, he dragged his middle finger along the center of the panties, right where he knew you needed it. Your hips jolted, a sharp breath punching out of you, and he kissed and bit gently at your shoulder, trying to stay steady while you ground down on him again.

He slid his fingers beneath the lace from behind, his knuckles grazing your ass, and slipped two fingers through your folds, the heat and slick coating them immediately. The angle was tight, but it didn’t matter. He pushed in slow, groaning deep in his chest as you clenched around him, your whole body going taut.

You gasped, your thighs shaking on either side of his, your hips rocking back to meet the thrust of his fingers. He fucked you slow, steady, letting his palm grind against you with each pass, his other hand still holding you tightly, keeping you flush to him. The sound of your breath, the soft, broken moans, the wet slick of your pussy around his fingers was all too much.

You nodded fast, breath hitching as you turned your head, finding his mouth and dragging him into another kiss. It was messy, open, all tongue and teeth. You were already shaking, and then he pushed in a third finger.

You whined, body jerking in his lap, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt like you needed something to hang onto. Your mouth fell open against his, panting into the kiss as he fucked you slow and deep, the stretch overwhelming but perfect.

“Gotta open ‘er up for me,” he murmured against your lips, curling his fingers just right. “Gotta get her ready, alright?”

Your hips rocked harder into him, back arching as you ground your clit into the thick seam of his jeans, chasing friction. The pressure made your thighs tremble. His fingers were thick and relentless, and you were soaked, dripping around him with every push.

“Feels—s-so good,” you mewled, breath broken, voice small and high.

“Yeah, baby?” he smiled, lips brushing your cheek, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to hold you steady. “Tell me.”

“Your fingers are so—god,” you gasped, blinking up at him, tears catching at the corners of your eyes, “so thick, Joel, fuck—filling me up, f-feels so good.”

He groaned, dragging his mouth over your jaw, licking into the curve of your throat as his fingers thrust deeper, curling to stroke that perfect spongey spot. Your entire body tensed in his lap, thighs shaking, your moans getting louder, needier, your hands everywhere now—his neck, his hair, tugging, pulling, clinging.

But then your rhythm shifted. You started grinding harder, faster, hips snapping down against his palm in stuttering, frustrated motions.

Joel felt it the second it changed. The edge in your breath, the heat in your voice.

You whined again, a little sharper now. “Need more.”

His brow lifted, but his fingers didn’t stop. “You got more, baby. Right here. Let me—”

“No,” you cut him off, hips jerking back harder onto his hand. “Not your fingers. I need your cock, Joel.”

His eyes blinked widely at your filthy mouth, but all he could muster was a wrecked groan, low and rough, his jaw locking as he tried to keep himself together. His fingers didn’t stop right away, but they slowed, drawing out the tension just enough to leave you gasping. Your walls clenched around the retreat, your body chasing it even as he pulled away.

“Such a greedy little girl, ain’t ya?” he muttered, voice rougher than he meant, more strained.

He dragged his fingers from you with a wet sound, both of you shivering at the loss. His hands moved to your hips again, gripping tight, dragging you forward until you were pressed flush to him. The thick line of his cock was unmistakable beneath the denim, rock hard and hot through the layers. You gasped as he pulled you against your bare thighs, your panties soaked and clinging.

Even through the denim, it was too much. Your heat, the damp of your panties, the softness of your thighs around him, it all short-circuited whatever thread of self control he was still hanging on to.

Joel’s head tipped back slightly, breath ragged. “Feel that? What you do to me?”

You nodded, a little amused glint back in your eye, though your mouth was still parted and heaving in breaths. You reached down, and he watched as your hands fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking loudly in the truck cab. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, just below where your mini skirt bunched up and he could see the pink of your panties, with white lace trim around them. His mind felt like it was buzzing with static.

Joel felt the tug of his belt give, then the pop of the button, the slow scrape of the zipper. He hissed through his teeth as your hand slipped inside, dainty little fingers wrapping around him. So warm and firm, but your grip wasn’t shy, and neither was the way you stroked him once, slow, before pulling him free.

He let out a low, broken sound, his head tipping back against the seat as his hips twitched into your palm. Jesus Christ, he was already leaking, hard as hell, and your soft hand felt like heaven.

He looked down just in time to see your thumb swipe through the wet at the tip, smearing it along the ridge. Your eyes flicked up, lashes heavy, lips parted, and then your tongue slipped out to wet your bottom lip. His eyes narrowed on the sight.

“It’s so… big,” you said, half breathless, caught somewhere between awe and nerves.

He couldn’t help the twitch of a grin, pride low and warm in his gut, but it faded fast when you licked your fingers and brought them back down to him. Joel’s mouth went dry as he watched, wide-eyed, his cock jumping in your grip as you used that spit-slick hand to spread the moisture, dragging it over the head and down the shaft with slow, deliberate strokes. His head hit the backrest again, a low moan escaping him as your hand wrapped fully around him. He was pulsing under your touch, every vein thick and straining, and all he could do was grip the seat with one hand and brace his other on your thigh.

His breath caught as you lined him up, the swollen head of his cock notched against your entrance, slick heat already soaking him. His hands flew up to your hips, fingers curling into your skin tight. He looked up at you, chest rising hard beneath his shirt.

“Fuck,” he managed, voice shredded. “Baby, take it slow. Alright?”

You nodded, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, and began to lower yourself down on him.

It was hell and heaven all at once.

He’d never felt bliss like this before. You were so tight, so velvety and wet and welcoming to his cock. He forced himself to keep his eyes open even as they drooped heavily, needing to see you. He watched your jaw slacken, your eyes roll back and your lashes flutter shut, the way your neck arched back at the feeling of him filling you completely.

If you didn’t take this slow, he was going to embarrass himself. Two pumps, and it’d be over.

“You okay?” he rasped, voice hoarse and frayed, trying to keep his focus on your face, not the overwhelming squeeze of your walls around his cock.

You nodded, still dazed, still adjusting to the stretch. He watched your hands slide up his chest for balance, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt.

“So… so full,” you whispered.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut for just a second. “You feel like heaven, baby. Fuck. Can’t—can’t move just yet.”

He breathed through his nose, short and hard, jaw clenched tight as he fought to stay still. Your walls kept fluttering around him, tightening every time you shifted. He could feel every tiny twitch, every squeeze, and it was sending his brain sideways.

You shifted your hips once, just a little roll of them, and his body jerked.

“Jesus Christ,” he bit out, thumbs digging into the soft flesh above your hips. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You grinned, a soft chuckle escaping, voice high and breathless, and gave another little roll, just enough to make him groan again.

“Not trying to,” you said sweetly, rocking just once more, a little deeper this time, “but you feel so good, Joel. So deep.”

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gritted, watching the way your body moved over his, the way your thighs flexed as you lifted up and sank back down, taking him in inch by inch. “Just like that, baby. You’re doin’ so good.”

You moaned, a soft, desperate sound that made his head spin, and then you started to move in earnest, just slow at first, a grind that let you feel every ridge of him, every twitch and pulse as your slick walls dragged along his cock. His jaw clenched, hips rising to meet yours on every stroke, and then you found your rhythm.

Up, down, harder, faster. Until the sound of skin of skin filled the cab of the truck, your breathless moans and his gritted grunts, all a symphony of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.

Joel could barely think. All he could do was feel—your heat, your slick, the way you clenched around him tighter with every bounce. His hands never stopped moving, guiding you, holding you open for him, sliding up your back, your waist, gripping anywhere he could find.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he said, mouth hot against your throat. “Look at you, pretty little thing, ridin’ me so good,”

You whined, nails digging into his shoulders as you bounced harder, grinding down between strokes, chasing it now. Joel felt you start to shake, the rhythm turning erratic, frantic, your breath coming faster as your thighs quivered on either side of him.

“My good girl,” he rasped, barely able to get the words out, his lips brushing your jaw, his voice thick with everything you were pulling out of him. “Takin’ your old man’s cock like it was made for ya, huh?”

You cried out, the sound catching in your throat as your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he growled, hands locking down on your hips now, helping you ride him, thrusting up to meet you with punishing force.

You were trembling in his lap, gasping his name again and again, every breath broken, every moan more high-pitched than the last. He felt the change in the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your legs started to give out, and he knew you were close.

“Gonna come for me again, hm?” he whispered, lips finding your chest as you pushed back up, a look of bliss and agony on your face when his tongue lapped at your nipple before taking it in his mouth, teeth scraping until he let it go with a pop as he said, “Come on, baby girl. Let me feel it. Wanna feel your sweet pussy squeeze the life outta me,”

Your body tensed hard as he took your other nipple between his teeth. Your back arched, your mouth dropped open as you cried out his name.

Joel felt it in the way you clamped around him, how your whole body seized and shook, how the heat of you spread and pulsed around his cock. He didn’t stop his tongue on your chest or his heavy thrusts into you. He couldn’t. He chased you through it, fucking you through your orgasm, his rhythm relentless now.

“Good girl,” he groaned, releasing your breast, head tipping back as you convulsed around him. “That’s my girl.”

It’s all he could say, all he could muster up as his blood roared. He knew he was going to leave bruises on your hips with the way he was holding you, his fingers digging deep, guiding you down onto his cock again and again as he fucked up into you, chasing the tight pull in his gut, the pressure building so fast it burned.

Your body was limp against him, boneless and spent, your forehead pressed to the side of his neck, still clenching around him in aftershocks that made his vision blur. He could feel the way you twitched as he pumped into you, cock filling you to the hilt every thrust. He could hear the wet sounds of your slick coating him, and it was pushing him right to the edge.

Maybe it was the sound of his breath, ragged and uneven in your ear, or maybe it was the way his thrusts had started to lose rhythm, hips stuttering beneath the weight of everything building inside him. Whatever it was, you knew.

You shifted, lifting your chest off his and sitting upright in his lap. His eyes opened, dazed and half-lidded, just in time to see you reach for his hands, pulling them from your hips and guiding them up to your chest. You pressed his palms back against your breasts, dragging a soft gasp from him as his fingers curled instinctively around you, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

And then you started to move.

Your hips rocked in a slow, devastating rhythm. Grinding forward, rolling back, twisting just enough to make him feel every flex and clench of your body around his cock. The new angle let him feel you in full, the grip of your pussy tighter than anything he’d ever known, slick and pulsing and dragging him deeper with every shift of your weight.

His eyes locked on you, chest rising hard, muscles taut, and he could barely keep up. He could hardly even breathe.

“Gonna come for me, Joel?” you asked, your voice breathless, raw, and almost sweet in its teasing.

He groaned, hands tightening around your breasts, his fingers twitching as you ground down harder. Your pace picked up just enough to wreck him, every movement drawing him closer to the edge.

“Come on, handsome,” you whispered, leaning in, your breath hot against his cheek. “Know you can. Know you wanna come inside me, don’t you?”

Joel’s whole body seized, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He could feel you squeeze around him as you said it. The flutter of your pussy gripping him like you were trying to pull every last bit out of him.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out, “Are y–are you sure, baby?”

He didn’t think he could take any more. But then you reached for one of his hands, lifted it gently, and brought his fingers to your mouth.

“Come for me, Joel,” you whispered, and then you slipped one of his digits into your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks to suck, soft and slow, tongue warm and wet.

And Joel saws stars as he came.

As he came down, he pulled his hand from your mouth, bringing your body to him, your chest against his and held you close. His forehead pressed to your shoulder, the soft rise and fall of your breathing the only sound between you for a long moment. You stayed wrapped around him, warm and wet and still twitching with aftershocks.

His breath came slow and heavy, chest rising beneath yours as his eyes slipped closed.

“My god,” he muttered, voice worn raw, scraped down to gravel.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just smiled, fingers combing gently through his hair, your body soft and loose in his arms. He felt your lips brush his temple, then his ear, warm and light, and when you shifted, you kissed the tip of his nose.

“That was…” you murmured, smiling against his skin, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

He hummed, a small sound low in his throat, eyes half-lidded, lips curved with something lazy and content.

You leaned down and kissed him again, soft and slow, and his felt cock stirring faintly inside you, twitching in the warmth he hadn’t pulled out of yet.

“Amazing,” you finished, lips brushing his.

Joel could’ve stayed in that moment forever.

His hands were still resting low on your back, fingers splayed wide, thumbs brushing along your spine. He blinked slowly, gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth, still a little swollen from kissing him stupid.

You tilted your head, smiling like you knew something he didn’t.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice still a little breathless, lips brushing his again.

Joel wasn’t sure where it came from. His mind was fogged with desire, those damn post coitus hormones and having the prettiest girl he’d ever seen his arms. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But it echoed from the cavern on his mind until it was screaming to be let out.

“Be my girlfriend?”

You blinked, surprised, but your smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew, soft and wide and toothy. Your cheeks warmed, and not just from the heat of the truck cab.

“Joel Miller,” you said, sweet and teasing as you pushed a bit of damp hair from his forehead, “are you asking me to be your girlfriend right after blowing my mind in your truck?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes narrowing in mock offense, his grip on you tightening like he didn’t want to let you squirm away from it.

“Well, yeah, suppose I am,” he said, a little more grounded this time, the words settling deeper in his chest. “I mean it.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, still grinning.

“Okay,” you said finally, soft and sure, like it wasn’t even a question. “Yeah. I’m your girl.”

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, every part of him relaxing under the weight of those simple little words.

I’m your girl.

The smile that broke across his face was unguarded, wide and real, his hand lifting to cup your cheek as your eyes stayed locked on his. You were both grinning now as you brought your forehead to his, lost in it for a long, quiet moment.

Then he pulled you back in, kissing you again slow and deep, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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#❧ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑒𝓁𝒻'𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓈 #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

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tobesolnelyx · 1 day ago

Text

— it was only a kiss ! || shauna shipman x fem!reader

a/n: going back to reqs tomorrow, pinky promise. now: this is my way of saying happy birthday to sweetest soul i had pleasure to meet recently. muah, pretty girl <3

summary: shauna goes into brown to finally get some peace… and she meets you. damn you. fluff. strangers to friends to lovers. college au.

warnings: none!

word count: around 1.6k

Shauna was convinced that going to Brown would finally bring her some peace. Peace from Jackie, from Jeff, and from everyone else. She planned to finally breathe and, for once in her life, focus only on herself, not everyone around her.

What she didn’t plan for was meeting you while she was moving into the dorm. She was lugging her stuff up the stairs, already panting from the effort, when you stepped into the doorway. A small, friendly smile glued to your face. Shauna stopped mid-step. The box nearly slipped from her hands as she stared at you. Of course, the most beautiful girl she had ever seen had to walk into the room while she was sweaty and overheating in her shirt.

“Hey,” you said, stepping inside. Only when you introduced yourself and extended your hand did Shauna register that you were speaking to her.

“Uh, hey...” she mumbled, looking away. A grimace crossed her face, as if she was angry at the very fact that you had the nerve to look that good while standing so close to her, just when she’d finally decided to focus on herself for once. She set the box down on the floor and shook your hand. “Shauna,” she muttered.

Her gaze wandered everywhere, deliberately avoiding your face. Her cheeks burned. From nerves? From exertion? From that awful thing she had to call a crush?

“Can I take that bed?” you asked sweetly, your fingers slipping away from her sweaty palm, though you didn’t comment on it. Shauna quickly wiped her hand on her pants and glanced at the bed on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied with a shrug, looking away again, as if she hadn’t been obsessively thinking about which bed to take. She frowned and winced at herself. You sighed quietly, and when you turned to walk across the room, those sad brown eyes followed you.

So it was hard to blame yourself for thinking, at first, that Shauna, for some unknown reason, didn’t like you. She avoided you, your gaze, and your voice. She rarely spoke unless she had no other choice. So you did most of the talking. And she mostly nodded, stiffening every time you got close. Eventually, you figured maybe that was what irritated her, your constant attempts to break through the awkward silence and form some kind of friendship. Maybe you talked too much.

But when you stopped, Shauna noticed. And she definitely didn’t like it.

Shauna wasn’t the type to talk about nothing, or gossip, or just start rambling about her interests. There was no chance she’d bring up her feelings, after all, there was a reason she carried that leather-bound journal everywhere, constantly scribbling in it.

So, she started making excuses. Asking about classwork, needing something from the store and asking if she could borrow money, or sometimes showing up with lunch or dinner for you.

She didn’t know how else to approach you. She had never been close to anyone besides Jackie, and Jackie had always just been there. Especially now, Shauna had no idea how to act around someone, a fucking girl, she liked.

Sooner or later, you caught on that all those little excuses Shauna kept coming up with were attempts to get your attention. She was decoding every interaction, carefully planning every word she said to you. Shauna wasn’t shy, she just had no idea how to keep you around. How to make you into something permanent in her life, like her friendship with Jackie had been.

If she was talking to you and anyone else interrupted or stole your attention away, frustration flared. She always watched you. Always wrote about you in that journal. She noticed the tiniest things: how you tied your shoes, how you repeated the same ritual every morning, how you drummed your nails on the desk when you were focused.

With time, you started to realize that in her own twisted way, Shauna needed your attention. So you began giving her time again. And while Shauna never outright said that she liked you or wanted something more, her behavior changed. Now she sat on your bed when you talked about your day, either scribbling in her journal or reading whatever book she could get her hands on. She nodded along, but you were convinced she was paying far more attention than she let on.

She was always close by. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was usually something sharp or worth listening to. She often suggested studying together, anything to be near you.

It was hard to deny her charm in all of this. Even if someone hurt you, Shauna would hit harder, with words, and make sure they never dared speak to you like that again. And suddenly, Shauna felt like she belonged to someone again. But this time, it was hard to hate the feeling. Honestly... she kind of liked it.

She wasn’t easy to like. But once you broke through to some real emotions, once you got used to her sarcastic humor and learned to appreciate quiet evenings spent studying, you realize that maybe you felt too much for her.

It was hard to blame you for not figuring it out. Shauna was incredibly cryptic about everything, while you, on the other hand, well, weren’t. Any idiot could see it: you liked Shauna. And honestly, she was smart enough that she should’ve at least started to suspect something.

But, as always, she never said anything directly. So neither did you.

And so the two of you spent months floating somewhere between friendship and something more.

You clung to her at every possible party. Tipsy, laughing at everything, you always somehow found your way back to her. You’d throw your arms around her neck mid-conversation, pulling her close. Maybe she wouldn’t hug you right away, she’d hesitate, but eventually, her hand would land on your back.

“Are you okay?” she’d ask, and when you gave her some kind of half-muttered grunt in response, she’d frown. “You should go back. You reek of alcohol.”

“Whatever,” you’d say, too tired, too drunk to form a coherent sentence. Not to mention Shauna smelled so good and her fingers warmed your skin so gently.

“Mhm,” she’d mumble. She’d lean in, like she might press a kiss to your forehead but she’d stop herself at the last second. She’d rub slow circles into your back and sigh. “Time to go.”

“Sure,” you’d sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck, with no intention of moving away.

There were lots of moments like that, and Shauna really should’ve figured out what was going on. Not every roommate clings to you, slurs compliments into your skin, and protests when you try to pull away.

Still, Shauna was scared. Scared that if she told you how she felt, you might reject her. So she said nothing. Until that one night.

Shauna came back from class that day more upset than you’d ever seen her. You didn’t even bother asking what happened just watched as she stormed into the room, threw her bag into a corner, and collapsed on her bed like she wanted to forget the world existed.

Naturally, you got up quietly and lay down next to her. Gently you started rubbing her back, and she tensed up even more. You sighed but added your second hand, the two of you tangled in a position far too intimate for a pair of roommates who’d only known each other a few months.

“We could watch something,” you offered softly. “Maybe that’ll help you relax?”

Shauna just grumbled something grumpy about the world which you took as permission. “I’ll put on something dumb,” you said, “just to shut our brains off, huh?”

She sighed again but inched closer. That was probably as close as Shauna would ever get to asking for comfort.

So that’s how you ended up, wrapped in a blanket together, watching whatever random show was still saved in your browser history. Shauna stared at the screen, frowning, like she was physically incapable of relaxing.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered, stuffing chips into her mouth, the leftovers from your last get-together. Not that either of you felt like going to the store. “It makes no sense. It's embarrassing.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, sliding under her arm like it was nothing. She looked at you with that weird flicker in her eyes but obediently adjusted her hand to rest on your shoulders.

“That’s not the point,” you teased, amused that even a dumb show could get under her skin.

“It’s about logic,” she argued, gesturing wildly with her other hand. The one on your arm began tracing mindless patterns across your skin. “And this has none. Some complete idiot wrote it.”

“Shauna,” you groaned, still laughing. Your hand landed gently on her cheek, turning her face toward yours. Her jaw tensed, a soft blush crept up her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away.

“You were supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t rest when you’re playing garbage,” she muttered, rolling her eyes again. But then her gaze dropped to your lips.

“This is your fault,” she said, mock-annoyed. You bit your lip.

“Oh, now it’s my fault?”

“Yours,” she repeated firmly, scrunching her nose. Her eyes flicked to your lips again, and it was like your brain short-circuited.

And just this once, you let yourself believe that maybe Shauna felt the same. That maybe it wouldn’t be weird. That maybe she wouldn’t push you away forever.

So before she could say anything else, your lips were on hers. Slow, deliberate, and filled with aching relief.

Shauna was so shocked she almost shoved you off. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, and for one terrifying moment, you were ready to apologize, certain you’d just ruined everything.

But then—

Her cracked, desperate lips crushed into yours again.

Faster, messier, more frantic. The impact threw you flat onto the bed. The laptop clattered to the floor with a dull thud, but you didn’t care. Not when Shauna’s fingers were already fumbling with your belt and her tongue was sliding between your lips.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #my writing #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x female reader

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dollyswishingwell · 4 hours ago

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ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ First sight of the bump

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ part 3 of the pregnancy series, just adorableness

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They notice your bump is finally showing

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The gentle waves whispered against the sand as the breeze curled through the open windows of your estate, salt-sweet and warm. The curtains fluttered, and the sky outside was painted with strokes of peach and lavender.

You padded barefoot through the marble-floored living room, humming softly as you traced your fingers over the petals of the fresh peonies Rafayel had arranged that morning. He insisted flowers bloomed better when you were near them, something about your presence being “the only divine thing that exists on this wretched earth.” Typical.

You wore one of his oversized silk shirts again. Pale blue, unbuttoned low and slouched off one shoulder, brushing the tops of your thighs. It was soft and smelled like him, salt, bergamot, and something dark and oceanic. It was also the only thing that made you feel remotely cute today, as your body slowly began to shift with the baby growing inside you.

You’d been self-conscious about it all day, hugging a pillow over your belly when you sat, avoiding mirrors, unsure if it was actually a bump or just the extra cake Raf had fed you in bed this morning.

But then you heard his voice from behind you.

“…Pearlie.”

You turned, startled, to find Rafayel standing in the archway. He must’ve just returned from a meeting, his coat draped over one arm, hair tousled by the wind, his blue-and-pink eyes locked on you like he hadn’t breathed the whole time he was gone.

His gaze wasn’t on your face.

It was on the soft swell beneath the shirt.

His voice came out low, almost reverent.

“Come here.”

You hesitated, suddenly shy, fingers curling at the hem of the shirt. “Don’t look too closely,” you mumbled, half teasing. “I think it’s just bloat…”

But he didn’t laugh.

He crossed the room in a few silent steps, and then his warm hands were on your hips, thumbs brushing just above the bump, and he slowly sank to his knees before you.

You stared down at him, your elegant, cold, sea prince of a husband, kneeling for you again, but this time, in quiet awe.

“You’re showing…” he whispered, almost breathless. “It’s there. You’re, growing it. Them.”

Your throat tightened. You hadn’t expected him to look like that, like he was seeing a miracle.

“I thought I’d be the first one to notice,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your belly. Then another. And another. “And I am. Good.”

You giggled, wiping at your eyes without realizing you’d started crying. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, trailing kisses in a lazy line across your bump. “I’m simply worshipping the shrine you’ve become. Isn’t that what husbands are for?”

You carded your fingers through his waves, and he rested his cheek against your belly, closing his eyes.

“Our little pearl,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re going to be the prettiest baby in the world. But still not as pretty as your mother.”

Then, with a sly smirk, he peeked up. “Do you want me to draw them? The bump. So we remember the first time we saw them like this.”

You nodded, tears in your lashes again.

He stood, scooping you into his arms with maddening ease and carrying you to the chaise by the window, mumbling to himself:

“Need softer pencils. Pink-toned paper. I want to get the shape of your thighs just right…”

And as the waves kissed the shore, he sketched you lovingly, over and over, bump and all, while murmuring about building a cradle carved from coral and naming the baby something “ridiculously romantic.”

You were already everything to him.

But now, you were his whole ocean.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It was still early, sun barely stretching across the horizon, sea mist clinging to the windows of your bedroom like a soft veil.

Zayne had already returned from his morning run, quietly meticulous as always. His hair was damp, towel slung over his neck, and he wore a crisp white tee and grey joggers that still clung to him from the workout. The house was peaceful. Quiet. Safe. Just as he liked to keep it for you.

You, however, were lost in your own little ritual, humming softly at the vanity as you brushed through your hair in your pale satin slip. You didn’t think much of how the fabric clung to your stomach now, just slightly. Barely. You assumed it was just the angle, maybe the lighting. Maybe your imagination.

Zayne passed behind you silently with a glass of lemon water in hand, intending to remind you to drink it before breakfast. But then he stilled. Mid-step.

You didn’t notice it at first. You were too focused on trying to clip a bow into your hair just right. But then his reflection in the vanity mirror caught your eye, how he’d frozen completely, brow furrowed, gaze locked somewhere low. He was staring.

“…What?” you asked, blinking. “Is my clip lopsided?”

Zayne stepped closer, setting the glass down beside you without a word. His eyes never left you.

“No,” he said softly, voice steady but quieter than usual. “Turn a little.”

You frowned, confused, but did as he asked. The moment you twisted at the waist, the soft curve beneath the silk became visible from the side. Subtle. But undeniably there.

And Zayne… just stared.

His breath hitched, barely noticeable, unless you knew him as intimately as you did.

His hand reached forward, almost hesitantly, and hovered just shy of your bump.

“I didn’t think…” he murmured, eyes narrowing in thought. “It’s showing.”

You gave him a bashful little smile and pressed a hand to your belly. “It’s tiny,” you said. “Probably just looks bigger when I’m sitting like this.”

But Zayne shook his head, firm and clinical. “No. It’s not bloating. The shape is consistent. Lower placement. It’s the uterus expanding.” A pause. Then more softly:

“It’s them. They’re growing.”

Your heart skipped.

And then, without asking, he slowly knelt in front of your chair, Zayne, your stoic, surgically sharp husband, on one knee, gazing at your bump like it was something holy.

“You’re changing,” he said, almost in awe. “And it’s not just physiological. You’re… glowing.”

You laughed, flustered. “That’s just the expensive skincare line you bought me.”

He smirked faintly. “No. That’s you. My wife. Carrying our child.”

His hands slid up your thighs and rested gently on either side of your stomach, and he leaned in to press a slow, reverent kiss to the bump. Then another. Then one more, just above your belly button, before resting his forehead there, breathing deeply.

“I should have noticed it last night,” he muttered into your skin. “I always inspect your body before bed.”

You flushed, smacking his shoulder lightly. “That’s not a clinical duty, Doctor Zayne.”

“I consider it part of your care plan,” he replied smoothly, before kissing your bump again. “Your body is officially under observation.”

You giggled, sliding your fingers through his black hair, heart aching with affection. “You’re being… so soft.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” he admitted, still kneeling there in his joggers like a man utterly undone. “You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me.”

Then, ever Zayne, he straightened, composed, and tapped your glass of lemon water with two fingers.

“Now drink all of this. And lie down for twenty minutes. I want to do a fetal positioning check before breakfast.”

“Zaynie,” you whined, but his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw.

“You’re glowing,” he repeated, this time like it hurt. “You’re not allowed to do it alone.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You’d woken up without him beside you, which was rare.

Xavier usually slept late. Or at least pretended to, just to stay curled around you longer, arms wrapped around your waist like he had no bones. But today, he wasn’t in bed. Instead, the faint aroma of tea and citrus hung in the air, he’d been in the kitchen.

Still half-asleep in one of his oversized button-downs, you wandered into the living room of the Linkon penthouse, rubbing your eyes. The silk barely skimmed your thighs, and the hem curved gently around your belly now, a small but undeniable bump that hadn’t been there last week. You didn’t even think about it.

Xavier was perched on the sun-warmed couch, shirt half open, his pale chest rising and falling slowly. A book was balanced in one hand, though his eyes weren’t on it. They were on you.

More specifically: on your stomach.

You blinked, shyly tugging the shirt hem down. “You’re staring…”

He didn’t answer at first. Just tilted his head, eyes like glass under the sun, soft and stunned.

“You’re… showing.”

You looked down, hugging the fabric across your belly. “A little,” you whispered. “I wasn’t sure if you’d notice…”

“I always notice,” he said simply, closing the book and setting it aside.

He moved so gracefully, barefoot across marble, sleep-mussed silver hair falling into his eyes as he reached you. His fingers curled gently at your waist, thumbs brushing over the bump, feather-light.

“I felt it when I held you last night,” he murmured. “But I didn’t want to say anything. Thought it might make you shy.”

“I am shy,” you mumbled, flushing deeply.

He knelt slightly to press his lips to the bump, almost sleepy in the way he worshipped it, resting his temple there afterward. “…It’s real now.”

You nodded, fingers brushing through his hair. “It always was.”

“I know.” He exhaled softly. “But I can see them now. The tiniest little proof.”

You stood there for a moment, his arms around your hips, his cheek against your belly, the sunlight catching on his lashes.

Then he looked up at you, lips curling faintly. “They’re probably going to be just like you.”

“Clingy?”

“Pretty,” he whispered. “And dangerous.”

You laughed.

Xavier tugged you gently onto his lap, guiding you into a comfortable sprawl across the couch with him curled underneath you like a sleepy cat. He lazily pulled the shirt open just enough to see the bump again, resting his hand over it.

“Should I draw them today?” he asked, voice already thick with drowsy contentment. “Like I used to draw you, before we were married. I want to remember this. The very first time I saw you like this.”

“You mean the stick figures?”

You pressed a kiss to his jaw and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck.

He smiled softly.

“I’ve always been obsessed with you,” he whispered. “But now I think I’ll be worse.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It was one of those lazy, golden hours where the world outside didn’t exist. Just you, Sylus, and the faint crackle of the fireplace he insisted on lighting even when it wasn’t that cold.

You were curled up in his lap sideways, your arms slung around his neck, one of his shirts hanging loosely off your frame. He’d brought you here for a “quiet week,” which, in Sylus-speak, meant locking down the whole property and letting his enemies wonder where the hell he disappeared to while he kissed you stupid between chess matches and ten-course meals.

Your lips were brushing over his in lazy half-kisses, giggly and clingy. He’d just said something smug, probably about how soft and cute you were for someone so dangerous, and you rolled your eyes, shifting closer to straddle him fully.

That’s when he noticed.

You felt his hands still on your hips, and his red eyes narrowed.

“…Wait.”

You blinked, still smiling. “What?”

He didn’t answer at first. One hand lifted from your thigh, slipping under the shirt. His palm flattened over your stomach, slow. Careful.

And then he smirked.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured, voice a purr against your cheek. “What’s this, kitty?”

You swallowed, suddenly shy under his gaze. “I—it’s not much yet—”

“You think I don’t recognize your body like the back of my hand?” he cut in, the words fond, amused. “It’s a bump.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “Don’t say it like that…”

He laughed low in his throat, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “Oh, no. Don’t hide now. You’ve been strutting around here in my shirts like a pampered little queen and didn’t think I’d notice your tummy getting rounder?”

You pouted. “It’s small.”

“It’s mine,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the swell of it through the fabric. “Proof.”

You watched as Sylus, your infamously ruthless husband, the one who once bought an entire arms syndicate just to dismantle it, gently tugged your shirt up and stared at the bump like it was something precious.

He traced slow, teasing circles with his fingers around your navel. “You’re already spoiling them, aren’t you? Eating pastries in bed. Sleeping in past noon. Getting massaged while you boss me around.”

“You like being bossed around,” you whispered, grinning.

“I like you,” he corrected. “And I love this. Every inch of it.” He kissed the bump again, then looked up through his lashes. “I’m going to be even worse now, you realize.”

You tilted your head. “Worse how?”

“More protective. More obsessed. You think I let you out of my sight before?” He chuckled darkly. “I should buy you another safe house. Or ten.”

You whined playfully, burying your face back into his neck. “You’re crazy.”

“For you,” he hummed, arms tightening around you. “And for the little tyrant you’re growing in there.”

Then, softer, barely above a whisper:

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

You melted.

And for the rest of the evening, he refused to let you leave his lap, pressing kisses to your bump every few minutes like it was a prayer, murmuring what kind of empire your baby would one day inherit, as if it were already decided.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The rain tapped softly on the Skyhaven glass, distant and calming. Downstairs, the penthouse was silent, save for the quiet hum of the smart lamps dimming on their own and the occasional flicker from the fireplace.

You were curled up in Caleb’s private library, sunk deep into a velvet armchair with a half-eaten bowl of snacks in your lap and your tablet dimmed beside you, still on that silly slice-of-life drama you were rewatching for the third time. The scent of peach tea lingered faintly from your cup, long since gone cold.

And you? Dead asleep.

The hem of Caleb’s Farspace uniform shirt, stolen from him, of course, had ridden up a little as you slept, revealing just a sliver of your soft lower belly.

That’s how Caleb found you.

He’d just returned from a brief strategy meeting, storm-wet boots off, jacket abandoned somewhere, purple eyes already scanning for you the second the elevator opened. You weren’t in the bedroom. Or the kitchen. Or the couch.

But he knew.

You always fell asleep in the library when you were waiting up for him.

His expression softened immediately when he saw you: messy hair, drooling slightly, your body curled around a plush pillow with snack wrappers scattered at your feet. He stepped over them quietly, crouched in front of you, and went to brush a crumb off your tummy…

And froze.

His hand hovered midair, eyes locked on the small, unmistakable curve of your belly.

“…You’re showing.”

His voice was so low you might’ve missed it if you were awake.

Carefully, reverently, he reached forward and touched it, thumb brushing gently over the new swell.

Something in his face shifted. Like the soldier in him stepped back. Like the colonel vanished, leaving only Caleb, the boy who grew up loving you and never stopped.

You stirred slightly at the touch, blinking awake. “Mm… Cal?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just wrapped one arm around your waist, lifting you into his arms in one smooth motion.

You squeaked sleepily, curling into his chest. “I was watching something…”

“I saw,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “And stealing my shirt again, I see.”

You blinked again. “…Wait, is this about the snacks?”

“No,” he said quietly, still carrying you. “It’s about the bump.”

You froze a little. “…Oh.”

He looked down at you then, purple eyes soft, unreadable.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I-I wasn’t sure it counted,” you mumbled, flustered. “It’s just tiny. I didn’t want to make it a big thing—”

He stopped halfway up the stairs, tightening his grip on you.

“It’s a big thing,” he said seriously. “It’s the first thing.”

Your heart stuttered.

He walked the rest of the way in silence, setting you gently down on the bed, his hands still cradling your waist. He sank to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss just under your navel, where the swell began.

Then another. And another.

“I’ve waited my whole life to see you like this,” he murmured against your skin. “To come home to you… and this.”

You felt your cheeks burn. “It’s really showing, huh?”

“Mmhm.” He looked up, smirking now. “Barely. But I see it. And I always will.”

Then he rested his cheek there, on the soft curve of your belly, eyes closed.

And for the first time since you told him the news, Caleb, Colonel Skyhaven, cold, calculating, famously unshakable, looked undone.

“I don’t care how many fleets I command,” he whispered. “This is the most important mission I’ve ever had.”

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magicalqueennightmare · 2 days ago

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Second Favorite Walker

John Walker x Reader

When John gets visitation with his son, he gladly becomes your second favorite Walker

No real warnings, little talk of broken ribs, gunshot wound

When John first joined the “New Avengers” he was still on not so good terms with Olivia. However he still made sure his child support was paid. You and Yelena seemed to make it your personal mission that Valentina double it.

While all of you understood it didn’t make up for the fact that he hadn’t physically been there when he asked you why you’d gone to bat for him and gotten Yelena to you’d replied “It’ll make her life a little easier not having to worry about a bill coming up out of left field”

She slowly started to reach out to him. With a text, a photo. He cherished any information on Eli he could get. He knew he was the problem. Olivia was an amazing mother and she’d done the right thing by putting their child first and he respected her for it.

One night he couldn’t sleep so he ended up heading to the kitchen of the watchtower. He wasn’t too surprised when he got to the end of the long hallway to see the light already on. When he made it to the entryway you were getting a bottle of water out of the fridge and poking at the cookies Yelena had made. “They’re pretty good” he spoke and you jumped, spinning around to face him “Christ have mercy Walker! Why is everyone in this place so damn quiet?” he grinned “Says the one who snuck up on me six times in one week”

You grabbed a cookie and closed the fridge before leaning against the counter to face him “What’s got you up?” you asked and he crossed his arms “Could ask you the same” you grinned “My brother called because my nephew wanted to talk to me” you kept your family a secret for the most part but the inhabitants of the watch tower knew them. John had seen you with your nephew. You were pretty damn good with him. The kid seemed like he adored you.

“Ok, I’m stressed because I have a meeting with my lawyer, Olivia and her lawyer” you raised an eyebrow “About what? Shit, nevermind that’s such an overstep! I’m sorry” he smiled “It’s fine sweetheart. It’s a talk about visitation” your eyes widened “Really? That’s amazing John”

He nodded slowly “I live here though. Do you think everyone would be up to a kid being here?” you nodded “Yeah! Even given our backgrounds I’d say most of us are actually pretty good with kids for the most part. I mean Bob and Ava may be a little awkward and Alexei may try to outfit him in one of those god awful track suits but beyond that I don’t see how it would be an issue”

He laughed “Fair enough. Ok” you pushed off the counter, patting his shoulder on the way by “It’ll be ok. You’re his dad John. You can do this”

The first visitation John had with Eli, Olivia came to the watchtower as well which you would have been surprised if she hadn’t. You rounded everyone up in the common room so she could meet who would be around her son and threatened them all to be on their best behavior. John was trying to fix his mistakes, the least all of you could do was help him.

When the elevator dinged, you cut your eyes across to Bucky who shrugged as the doors slid open. John stepped off first then Olivia stepped off behind him, Eli was walking next to her, holding onto her leg. He was holding John’s hand too but the little guy seemed nervous.

You shook your head when Alexei started to stand. No, if Olivia approached then you’d stand but no one was crowding them. John waved a hand towards all of you “Olivia this is the team” Bucky stood up first, mainly because they’d met before. Then Alexei, Yelena, Ava, Bob then you. When you shook Olivia’s hand she smiled “John said you have a nephew a few years older than Eli that you’re pretty good with?” you cut your eyes at John before shrugging “Yeah”

She laughed “So if he needs any back up…” you laughed “I always help my team. No matter what” Eli looked up at you and when he smiled you couldn’t help but smile back. He was the perfect mixture of John and Olivia. You could easily pick out what features he’d gotten from her and what features from John. “My goodness he is cute! He get that from you Olivia?” you asked and she winked at you “I like you”

She nodded to John “I’ll be at the sheridan with my sister. If you have an emergency, call me” “I will. Thanks Liv”

Olivia picked Eli up, pressed a kiss to his cheek then passed him to John’s waiting arms. She waved at everyone “Nice to meet you all” then walked onto the elevator. You nodded to John “Well we’ll all get out of your hair so you can spend time with little guy. If you need anything, holler ok?” “Thank you” he replied and you nodded “Of course” and started to round everyone up, offering to buy Thai food to get them moving faster.

The first couple visitations John kind of just spent alone with Eli. If Valentina even dared to try to send a mission with his name on it you would be in her office in a heartbeat. After you threw a knife at her once, taking a little off the top of her hair, she’d decided against trying that again and started paying more attention to John’s visitation schedule.

You knew Eli needed to get used to his dad again before he could get used to any of you. It was a few visitations in when John had gone to pick Eli up and when they got back you and Yelena were in the kitchen making cookies. You had a disney soundtrack of all things playing because you’d been working on catching Yelena, Ava and Bob up on the movies they’d missed in their childhood. It just so happened that John and Eli walked off the elevator in the middle of you singing “I just can’t wait to be king”

The matching looks of amusement on John’s and the three year old’s face was priceless. You skidded to a stop and grinned “Hey fellas. Want chocolate chip?” John looked at Eli who nodded “Might as well” you squatted down to be eye level with Eli “Come on little dude” he looked at his dad for the ok and when John nodded he ran into your arms. You lifted him onto the counter and handed him a cookie.

John laughed as “Be a man” came on and Yelena joined you in a duet. He moved to stand with Eli, grabbing a cookie himself. You were now putting on a show that you had an audience and Eli was enjoying it. He was giggling watching you and Yelena do the arm motions and all.

When the song was finished you both bowed. John shook his head “Multi talented indeed ladies”

However when John asked Eli if he wanted to go to John’s floor or go get dinner Eli looked at you and Yelena and spoke in a small voice “Can they come?” you raised both eyebrows, looking at Yelena who smirked “I’m sorry little Walker. I have to go with Bob but she can come if it’s ok with your daddy” you knew your eyes were wide and you made a mental note to hit Yelena a little harder in training.

John looked back at you “You don’t have to” you shrugged “I had no plans. I mean I don’t want to intrude” he shook his head “It’s fine. We were just gonna go get food from the place on the corner” you nodded “Let me change out of clothes that have flour all over them” you dramatically slapped your shirt, causing a cloud of flour to flutter through the air and Eli laughed again. John saw the way your eyes lit up every time you made Eli laugh and it made his heart flip. “Sounds good”

You headed for the elevator and looked back “Five minutes fellas and we’ll be ready to go”

You were curled up on the couch, reading a book when John walked in, picked up your legs and sat down, letting your legs rest in his lap. You barely looked up before saying “What exactly are you asking me for here?” you and him were friends. It had happened without you ever even realizing it so you knew him well enough to know when he needed something.

His large hand rested on your ankle “It’s not for me” you nodded, leaning to reach your bookmark and slid it into place before giving him your full attention “Spill it” he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth “Eli wants to have a disney movie night.. With you too” you grinned “Really? Oh I’m down”

You swung your legs off his lap and stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked and you laughed “Shopping! If I’m Disney movie nighting with him, I’m doing like I did for my nephew when he was that age. We’ll need themed snacks, oh he needs a stuffed simba! Spaghetti and meatballs with Lady and the tramp for dinner” you headed for the elevator and John hopped up off the couch “Wait! I’ll come with you”

You laughed “Hurry up then dammit! I gotta get ready for my favorite Walker” John couldn’t help but grin because you meant it. You were honest to god excited at the prospect of having a movie night with him and Eli for Eli’s sake.

______________________

John’s floor looked like some crazed Disney employee got a hold of it. Truly it was you with one of Valentina’s issued cards. You were a flurry of activity, trying to make everything as close to perfect as possible, even ordering Italian from a nearby place to make sure there were perfect meatballs for the spaghetti and meatballs along with Lady and the tramp.

When Olivia stepped off the elevator with Eli her eyes widened, a grin on her face “John, did you do this?” he laughed “Um I put stuff where I was told?” she laughed “She’s pretty good at the whole kid thing” he looked around as you came out from the living room and froze “Oh, hey Olivia. I um I was just sitting up for little guy” about that time Eli popped around his mom and grinned when he saw you, giggling your name and because you were in a pair of stitch footie pajamas.

“Love you mama” he told her then ran to you. She watched you and him, heading for the living room where it looked like you had an entire theater set up “Isn’t she a former assassin?” she whispered to John who winced “She got into the work because her brother was in trouble but yes” Olivia nodded “I’m impressed. Eli likes her, alot John” “She likes Eli. Tells me all the time she protects me for him” Olivia laughed “Well have fun. I’ll see you on monday”

______________________

You were sitting in the floor of John’s living room, Eli was next to you while the aristocats played. He laughed when you started to sing along with one of the songs “Daddy doesn’t know songs” you winked at him “Don’t worry, we’ll teach him yet”

He was holding the stuffed simba you’d gotten him and the two of you were curled up on the cushions you’d formed a fort with. John was sitting on Eli’s other side and you looked over at him and he was watching you and Eli with a soft smile. “Isn’t that right?” he nodded “Yeah, guess I’ll let you add songs to my playlist?” The mental image of John working out while “Be a man” cranked out made you burst out laughing which in turn made Eli start laughing which made John himself start laughing.

_____________________

Sometime in the evening Eli started getting sleepy but asked you to stay. You looked at John and mouthed “I can’t leave” he nodded because he understood not being able to say no. Now however he had a dilemma. You and Eli were both asleep in the pillow fort. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Eli’s head was resting on the stuffed simba while you were cuddling with the stuffed dalmation you’d bought. You had your leg curled around the opening of the fort so if Eli started to move you’d feel him as if even in sleep your instinct was to protect his son and that warmed his heart then and there.

He snapped a photo and sent it to Olivia because he was unsure what to do here. She texted back “Neither of their necks are cramped. Curl on the floor next to them and get some sleep” so he did just that.

The next morning he woke up to the smell of pancakes. You’d woke up sometime before him and ended up retrieving a big stack of pancakes. Now Eli was tearing into a few. When he sat up, rubbing at his eyes you were sitting near him with a grin “Morning. We saved you some pancakes”

Eli looked up with a smile “They’re good” you laughed “I made them myself” he raised an eyebrow “Well Eli said they’re good so I’ll give them a try”

You were half asleep when you heard a knock at the door of your quarters. You pushed yourself out of bed and shuffled across the floor “Yeah, what is it?” you opened the door and there stood John with Eli on his shoulder “He’s warm”

You nodded slowly and held your door open further “Come in” he walked in to the couch “He woke up fussy so when I touched his head he felt really warm. His temp said one hundred point eight” you nodded “Low grade. Did Olivia say if he’d been feeling bad?” he shook his head. You walked over and sat down next to him. Eli whined lightly so you touched his head “Hey bud. How ya feeling” he stuck his bottom lip out and god he reminded you of John in that instinct “My tummy hurts”

“Probably has a bug. Common in kids. My nephew got them a lot. I’ll run to the Walgreens for some children's motrin and something for his stomach. You call Olivia” John shook his head “I can’t ask you to go out at one in the morning” you raised an eyebrow “I can take care of myself John” he stared you down so you sighed “Eli, wanna stay with me so daddy can go get you meds and call mommy?”

He nodded weakly so you sat down on the couch, shifting him around so his head was laying on your stomach, “Go on, I’ll keep him calm” “Are you sure you’re ok?” John asked and you nodded “I can handle a fussy three year old”

John pressed a kiss to Eli’s head and headed for the door. You shook your head and looked down at Eli “Tummy? Anything else?” he shook his head so you nodded “Let’s get comfy. Daddy will be back soon”

He leaned his head over on you “You’re nice” you smiled, rubbing his back through his pjs “Thank you. I try”

______________________

John walked back in to your quarters and you were still on the couch but Eli was now fully laying against your stomach and your eyes were closed while you lightly hummed something. Eli seemed to be asleep. He’d called Olivia and she assured him he’d done nothing wrong. A stomach bug was going around daycare and she’d told him to get the same meds you had.

You were pretty amazing with Eli. You were pretty amazing in general. Your eyes slowly opened, a smile slipping onto your face “His fever broke” you whispered and he nodded “I got meds” you smiled “Wanna just put him down in my bed? Don’t risk jostling him?” he shrugged and stepped over to pick up Eli.

Once Eli was curled up in your bed fast asleep the two of you stepped back out into the living room, leaving the door cracked. You smiled “You can sleep in there with him. I’ll take the couch” “Thank you honey. I didn’t know who else to go to” you smiled “No problem John. I’m here for you and him” he felt his heart flip and tried to ignore it, tried to ignore how the feelings he’d had for you were growing stronger and stronger daily.

“I appreciate it more than I could ever say” he told you and you smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek “Remember that when I end up sick. I can still contract stomach bugs” you laughed lightly when his eyes widened “Kidding, mostly” then nodded to the couch “Night John” “Night darlin”

John knew it was inevitable that Eli’s visits would end up overlapping with a mission. He didn’t expect Eli to downright pout over your absence. It was adorable. “Daddy, where is she?” he asked and John laughed “She’s at work bud”

“Oh, is she ok?” “Yeah Bucky is with her and Lena” Eli nodded, fidgeting with his Simba “She’s ok?” John nodded, pulling him into a hug “I promise. She’s ok” he hadn’t realized Eli had grown that attached to you but then again you were bonding with him nearly every time he was at the watchtower and it was never a purposeful thing you just always ended up making plans that included him or popping up with “Hey! Look what I got for Eli! Or “Hey! Eli would like this, right?”

He’d long since accepted that he had feelings for you. Why wouldn’t he? Beautiful, sweet when you wanted to be, hell on wheels when you didn’t. You were protective to a fault, a bit on the wild side and genuinely cared about the most important person in the world to him, Eli. He’d give damn near anything to have the nerve to tell you but things were going so good with your friendship and Eli liked you so much he didn’t want to screw stuff up.

____________________

You were exhausted by the time you got back to the watchtower. Everyone was. Bucky went ahead and sent a text to John, warning him to keep Eli on his floor until everyone was cleaned up. All of you had blood, soot and other things on your suits.

You had to force yourself into the shower and back out. You were on the verge of just collapsing into bed when a text came through from John Eli wants to see you There was your second wind. If the kid wanted you, the kid got you.

You slipped your feet into the soft slippers you wore around and got onto the elevator. The moment you stepped foot off onto John’s floor you heard Eli call your name and thank god John caught him right before he slammed into your sore ribs. You smiled and squatted to hug him, biting down hard on your cheek so he didn’t see you were in pain “Hey bud, your dad said you were worried so I figured I’d show you I am here and in one piece” he hugged you tight and you caught John’s eye over his head. He gave you a small smile which you returned. “See? She’s ok but she’s sleepy bud”

“She can sleep here” Eli argued and you laughed “I would but you know what? I don’t have my favorite blanket. Gotta have it” he nodded “Ok”

He headed back to his toys and you watched him for a second before John said “You ok?” you shrugged “Bruised ribs. Thanks for the save” he gently touched your side “Sorry i wasn’t there” you shook your head, turning to face him “Don’t. Bucky had my back. I’m ok. You’re doing what you need to be. Ok?” he nodded “Ok sweetheart” you grinned “Now, take care of my little man. I’m going to crash” you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek “Give that to Eli for me at bedtime if I’m not back by then”

“Yes ma’am” he whispered, trying to act like his face didn’t feel like it was on fire where your lips had touched, even in such an innocent manner.

He couldn’t feel that way about you. You were everything good, he was just now getting his life halfway back right. What if he screwed you up? And yet when you looked back at him with a smile he knew he was already gone. He was yours.

“Where is she at?” it threw John off when Olivia downright asked where you were at drop off. He cut his eyes down at Eli then mouthed “Mission” she nodded then tapped Eli’s shoulder “Go on bud, I wanna talk to daddy”

Eli hugged her then ran off to play. He watched him for a moment then turned back to her “Everything ok?” she nodded “You do know if something happens to her now our little boy is gonna be heartbroken right?” he raised an eyebrow and she laughed “John, I love you but to be so intelligent you’re an idiot”

“Gee, thanks Liv” he laughed and she smiled “He loves her John. He sees her almost like another parent, a best friend at least. He talks about her almost as much as he talks about you. I know you two aren’t together but she’s good for him, could be good for you too”

He smiled slightly “I care about her but I’m not screwing up any more women I care about” she patted his shoulder “The past is the past John. Let’s face the future” she stepped further into the living room area “Bye baby! Be good for daddy”

John watched her walk onto the elevator then walked into the living room with Eli. “Hey bud. What are we doing today?” Eli looked up and shook his head. The moment he opened his mouth John was not surprised when he asked for you. “She’s at work bud” he sat down on the floor next to him and he nodded, crawling over onto his leg “She’s ok?” that was Eli’s routine if he didn’t see you time he got to the watchtower. He wanted to make sure you were ok. “Yeah, how about I ask if she wants to go to the zoo with us tomorrow if she’s back. Ok?” Eli smiled big “We can see lions!”

____________________

You were sore and a bit tired. Honestly if anyone else would have asked you to do anything you would be in bed but John asked you if you wanted to go to the zoo with him and Eli. That was why you were up, dressed and ready to go.

You were in the kitchen, filling your water bottle when you heard your name. You turned in enough time to catch Eli, spinning him around “What is up little dude?” he laughed, throwing his arms around you “You’re back!” you laughed “Of course! I always come back to my favorite Walker man”

John walked in the room after him and grinned at you. You winked at him “And your dad comes in as my second favorite Walker man” John shrugged “Second place isn’t all that bad”

Eli grinned “Ready to go?” you nodded “Let’s fill your water bottle and daddy’s then we’ll go. Ok?” “Yes ma’am”

He hopped down out of your arms and John smiled at you “You’re sure you’re up for this?” you nodded “If I get tired you can carry me and him both easily after all” he burst out laughing “Fair enough”

___________________

John snapped a photo of you and Eli in front of the lions while you and him were naming the entire enclosure after Disney characters. You cut your eyes at him when you heard the click “I better look good” “You always look good honey” he replied and you seemed to get almost flustered but recovered quickly enough when Eli tugged you to the next exhibit.

Eli was walking holding onto one of your hands and one of John’s. You had a broad smile on your face and seemed to not get aggravated no matter how many questions Eli had about animals, even fishing your phone out to get google to assist when needed, citing “I’m not as smart as your dad” to which he’d told Eli “Don’t listen to her, she’s smarter than daddy”

Eli shrugged “She can bake and knows songs” and that put a proud smile on your face when you looked up at John and playfully stuck your tongue out “See? I have my strong suits”

_______________________

By the time the three of you got back to the watchtower Eli was fast asleep on John’s shoulder. “You need help getting him settled?” you asked and he shook his head “I got it sweetheart. Thanks for today, I know you were tired” you shrugged, running a gentle hand down Eli’s back “For him? I’ll drag my ass up and go” you looked up at John then, his bright blue eyes looking at you like you were something amazing and felt your heart flip. It didn’t mean anything, him spending time with you. It was just because Eli had bonded to you. You had to keep telling your traitorous heart that because at times? It felt like you were so close to being what you wished you were to John but you weren’t going to risk making Eli lose someone.

“You’re not bad company either John. Good night” he smiled “Night darlin”

Everything came to a head between you and John on a mission. You caught a bullet meant for him. It wasn’t serious, a through and through to your upper arm. With Valentina’s medical staff you would be fine in a week or so. Of course that meant getting out in one piece.

The bullet burned when it ripped through your arm but John turned and took out the shooter, snatching you into his chest where no matter how he turned he could shield you both. “We gotta find an extraction point” he muttered, pushing you ahead of him. One minute you were running down corridors, the next he was tugging you into a closet.

“What the hell?” you whispered and he glared at you “The halls are overran. We gotta get backup now” you nodded as he repeated that order over the com, letting Bucky know you two were secure. “Twenty tops” Bucky’s voice came.

The small area was deathly quiet, your ears straining for noise, knowing John had the advantage on that. He shook his head “It’s clear for now” you nodded, leaning against the wall as you dug into your utility belt for roll gauze until you could do better for your arm.

When he realized what you were doing he snatched it away “Let me” you were taken back by John being so gruff with you. You thought you and him were eons past that. “Fine” you bit back, letting him grip your arm as he wrapped the gauze. “Why did you do that?” he muttered and you raised your eyes to his “Save your life? You were taking on three combatants. It was take the bullet or you get shot”

“And if you would’ve died?” he asked, voice low and eyes fixed on your arm as he tied a small knot in the gauze to keep it in place. “It would’ve been ok. Valentina would’ve paid out to my brother. At least Eli would still have his father”

He shook his head “And you think your brother would want money over you? That Eli wouldn’t notice you were gone?” he leaned down to be eye to eye with you “That it wouldn’t torture me every day to know I was the reason you were gone?”

“It wouldn’t have been like with Lemar John” you whispered and he nodded “I know. Lemar was my best friend but I’m half in love with you” you froze, eyes wide “What?” and he shrugged “it’s out there. I am. You’re an amazing person. You’re sweet when it’s called for, hell when it’s not. You got into being an assassin for your brother. You take care of people. My son adores you. You’re beautiful even when you’re bleeding and angry at me. You don’t have to feel the same but please don’t ever think you’re not important to us. You have so many people you would crush if you didn’t come home”

You weren’t sure what to say. What words would be sufficient so instead you reached up to grip the front of his suit and pulled him down to you. The moment your lips crashed against his, he caged your body between his and the wall. He took control of the kiss, it went from borderline desperate to passionate, claiming and clamoring for you. You whined lightly into his mouth when his fingers dug into your hips gently.

When the need for air pushed you two away you smiled up at him “So, I feel the same if that wasn’t apparent” he laughed “I was hoping that wasn’t an easy let down”

“Yeah well that was sweet except for the nasty kissing sounds but we need to go. The hallway is now clear” Yelena’s voice came through the coms and you buried your face in John’s neck laughing “You heard her my second favorite Walker, let’s go” “Let’s be real, he’s everyone’s second favorite Walker. Hurry up” Yelena barked over the com and John shook his head but you could see the grin pulling at his lips before he pressed another quick kiss to your lips and the two of you moved into the hallway to head out to meet the rest of the team.

“So, I somehow have made friends with Olivia again, have my son in my life and you love me?” you were laying across John’s chest, half asleep but he was wide awake and bless him wouldn’t stop talking. You groaned and leaned up “Yes John! You’re a lucky bastard that got a second chance. You have become a damn good father. You and Olivia are rockstars at co-parenting. Eli is the best kid ever and I love you more than I ever would’ve thought possible. Now can you please go to sleep? We gotta fly out to Georgia in the morning”

He grinned “Yeah honey. I love you” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips “I love you too John”

#john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker x y/n #john walker fanfic #john walker imagine #mcu john walker #john walker positive post #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts fanfic

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citywitchwithanxiety · 3 days ago

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What Kind of Love Do You Need To Welcome Into Your Life?

a pick a pile reading!

Take a deep breath and choose whatever image calls out to you the most!

Pile 1

Song: Andromeda ~ Weyes Blood

What Kind of Love Do You Need To Welcome?

2 of swords & 3 of swords ® For you pile one, you need to welcome in the love that is making decisions! Let’s face it, sometimes it’s easier to sit back and let everyone else make the decisions, but it doesn’t feel good does it? Now you are left with a life that isn’t actually what you want, it’s what someone else wants. It’s incredibly unfair to yourself to live this way. You deserve to live a life full of the things you want.

Advice For Welcoming This Love?

wheel of fortune ® & hanged man ® My biggest piece of advice for you pile 1 is to be selfish. Make choices that leave you feeling good and happy with yourself. Put yourself first when going out into the world. Figure out what you actually want in life and chase it. You deserve good things and you deserve good things that you want. Yeah, you’ll probably seem like an asshole sometimes. That’s what happens when you start saying no to people that expect everything from you. But you will find people that want to see you thrive and those are the people you actually want to be around.

Words of Encouragement!

Tower ® & 6 of Pentacles My words of encouragement to you are to remember that you have the power to release yourself from the oppression you may be facing right now. It’s going to be awful and uncomfortable but the end result is going to have you thriving and feeling immensely grateful that you put in the effort. I love you and good luck <3

Pile 2

Song: La Perfeum De Fleurs ~ Ensemble Fove

What Kind of Love Do You Need To Welcome?

4 of wands & the lovers Babe, when I tell you that the 4 of wands and lovers FLEW out of my deck I mean it. What an incredible way to start a reading, my goodness. Pile 2, my darlings, you need to let some romance into your life. Now, don’t roll your eyes at me I mean it. You probably think to yourself “nooo but I’m not into anyone right now” or “but no one likes mee”. Babe. Darling. Honey. Are you sure? I need you to take a couple of deep breaths and think about it for a moment because the cards are telling me otherwise.

Advice For Welcoming This Love?

queen of cups & queen of swords My advice for you is to actually take the moment to figure out your emotions. I know you didn’t actually do it. Find some journal prompts. Maybe do your own tarot reading if you feel like I’m lying. Your next step after you have figured out your emotions is to tell someone. Listen I’m getting the vibe that maybe someone asked you out and you said no because your like “I don’t do romance or attraction” but now that you have thought about it you have realized you do actually like that person and you may have made a mistake in saying no. So go tell them. Send a heartfelt text and apology. Or maybe there’s someone you’ve been crushing on for a while and you want something to happen. So make something happen! Ask them out, confess your feelings. Just do something please.

Words of Encouragement!

8 of swords ® & Judgement This is going to be a pain in the ass for you, I know. You are incredibly stubborn and don’t really want to believe a random tarot reader on the internet. But you need to be honest with yourself to allow growth. The unforeseen aspect of the future is scary but I can assure you it will all work out. I love you and good luck <3

Pile 3

Song: Someone New ~ Hozier

What Kind of Love Do You Need To Welcome?

the Empress & death Hello pile 3! I just have a quick question for you; why do you think you aren’t good enough? Like hello? You my friends, need some serious self-care and self-love. And I’m not talking about face masks and fancy baths. I’m talking about eating healthy, brushing our teeth, putting the phone away before we go to bed. Those kinds of things. You’d be surprised how much they help us to feel better mentally. I have a feeling that you haven’t been in the best spot recently. That’s okay, you’re allowed to have emotions and feel them fully. What we aren’t going to do, though, is allow ourselves to wallow in self pity instead of trying to feel better.

Advice For Welcoming This Love?

knight of swords ® & the tower ® Things are tough, I know. Trying to improve yourself when you have no motivation or longing to is incredibly difficult. My advice to you is to just pick one thing that you can do and try to stick with it. Does that mean doing it perfectly everyday until the rest of time? No. It means doing your best to do it as often as you can, and not beating yourself up over the mistakes you make. Everyone deserves kindness and that includes yourself.

Words of Encouragement!

queen of cups & 9 of cups ® I know that it’s going to be a struggle to get anything done. That maybe you don’t feel like you deserve to show yourself kindness. But you do, you really do. You are deserving of putting care into yourself and showing yourself compassion even when you make a mistake. I love you and good luck <3

#tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot community #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pac tarot #pick a card #divination #witchblr #free tarot #tarot tumblr #tarotblr #tarot blog

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uyinq · 1 day ago

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THE CONTAINMENT INITIATIVE ☆ B.R

chapter 4 — aggressive evolution

[bob reynolds x AFAB! reader, psychic!reader, empath?reader, slow burn, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut, messy co-dependent relationships]

❱❱ WORD COUNT ﹕3,800

❱❱ SUMMARY﹕ With the Void making itself known, it's time you get serious about your powers. Bucky and Yelena help you find an outlet, while Valentina closes in on you. Bob lets it be known how he feels about everything.

❱❱ WARNINGS ﹕ profanity, violence, trauma, eventual smut, psychological horror, mentions of: needles, injections, torture, and human testing

❱❱ NOTES ﹕ sentry is so UUURGGHH. i can fix him. i like fixing broken men. ill fix him!!!!! no beta read, i apologize for any errors i was half asleep while writing this

(divider from uzmacchiato)

★ chapters ﹒﹒ masterlist

★ tags - @coutureisart @jenneric2003 @tfamidoingwithmylife @disillusioniary @sadslasher13 @chimchoom @lewispullsman @articel1967 @jj-ma26 @hiraethmae @dark-silhouette

(ask to be tagged!) ࿐

“I let it in.”

The silence lasts too long.

Bucky doesn't move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches you–watches the tremble in your fingers, the shallow drag of your breath, the way your shoulders curl in like you’re trying to make yourself small.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say eventually, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t call to it. It just… came.”

He nods. Once. But his jaw is tight.

“Did it hurt you?”

You shake your head once.

“No… no. I– I think it likes me.”

That finally gives him pause. After a few seconds, his eyes narrow. Not in disbelief or concern, but because he understands. He knows what it means when something awful decides you’re useful.

He takes a careful step foreward, gently taking your arm in his hand.

“We’re not waiting until Val finds out,” he says. “Tomorrow, we start. My way.”

“You’re doing it again.” Bucky’s voice is grating. You’ve heard it far too many times in the past hour. He dragged you out of the tower before the sun even came up, didn’t even tell you where you were going. Some construction site in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

You thought it was another training session with him. The kind where you sit on the ground and hold hands for half an hour. But no, Bucky has been whooping your ass and knocking your feet out from underneath you, over and over and over.

“Doing what, exactly?”

He circles you like you’re prey–not in a cruel way, but the way someone does when they refuse to let you keep lying to yourself.

“You’re not controlling it. You’re containing it. Big difference.”

You cross your arms. “So what, I’m supposed to let it explode out of me?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” he says, voice flat. “You’re not gonna learn how to use it until you stop being scared of it.”

He comes at you fast– not to hurt, just to pressure. You block. You swing. You fail. He knocks your legs out from under you like Yelena does.

You land hard, breath knocked from your lungs.

And that’s what does it.

The frustration. The weight of everything you’re feeling. The exhaustion, the guilt, the Void’s presence still coiled in your chest.

Your hands twitch.

You reach for the closest thing you can find– a long metal pole, sitting pretty in the dirt. You wrap your fingers around it, sit up quickly, and you swing. Hard.

Something buzzes under your skin, the pole cracking loudly against Bucky’s kneecap.

It all happens so fast you nearly miss it.

A jolt in your spine like lightning, a faint glow in your veins, then sparks shooting up the pole.

Bucky stumbles back, not from the force of the hit–but from the shock. His eyes are wide, one hand gripping his knee, the other lifted like he’s half-expecting you to strike again.

“What the hell was that?”

He breaks the silence first, gesturing at you as you drop the metal pole and move to your feet.

“I– How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re the one that did it!”

Your hands are still trembling.

The glow is gone now, but your fingers feel like live wires–like something ancient and aching just woke up inside you and isn’t ready to sleep again.

“I didn’t mean to do it!” you bark back, a little too sharp, voice cracking on the edges. “It just… it happened.”

Bucky stares at the dropped pole for a beat, then at you. The breeze kicks up some dust between you, but neither of you move to break the tension.

“Okay, okay. Just… walk me through it. What happened?”

You rub at your forearm, heart still hammering against your ribs.

“I was mad,” you mutter. “At you. At everything. And then I grabbed the pole, and it felt… different. Like I was holding a lightning rod.”

“You channeled it,” Bucky murmurs, thinking out loud. “The energy–your power. Through something else instead of your body.”

Oh.

Oh…

Bucky finally relaxes his stance, shoulders still tense but no longer on edge. He steps closer, eyes scanning your face.

“You weren’t just holding that thing,” he says. “You were channeling through it. Like a conductor. And the second you got pissed off enough to stop thinking? It snapped into place.”

You look down at the pole in the dirt like it’s a cursed artifact. “So what? I’m supposed to carry a staff around like some kind of… fucked-up Jedi?”

“If it works, yeah. I don’t care if you swing around a glow stick,” he shrugs. “If it gives your power shape, it’s worth it.”

You let out a breathy laugh. Shaky. Almost manic.

This changes everything.

Because maybe–just maybe–you’re not just some broken empath caught in the crossfire of everyone else’s chaos. Maybe you’ve got a weapon of your own.

Maybe you are one.

Bucky watches you for a long moment. Then:

“We train with it tomorrow,” he says. “Same time. Don’t be late.”

Then he turns on his heel and limps off toward the rusted truck parked a few yards away–still rubbing his knee and muttering under his breath about a “psycho chick with a lightning stick.”

You smile.

And you pick the pole back up.

The gym is quiet–too quiet for how often Yelena curses during sparring.

You’re already on your back again, panting, one wrist pinned beneath Yelena’s knee.

“Again,” she says, voice low, irritated. “You’re pulling your punches.”

“No,” you wheeze. “You just have a vendetta.”

Yelena’s lip curls. She stands, offers her hand. “Get up and hit me like you mean it.”

You take her hand and let her pull you up, but your muscles are screaming. You’ve been at it for nearly an hour, sweat dripping down your temple, the weight of the metal staff in your hand getting heavier by the second.

You lunge.

She sidesteps.

You spin with the pole–clumsy, wide–but Yelena still blocks you with ease, catching the pole with her forearm and landing a sharp jab to your ribs.

Your frustration boils over.

Not just with her. With everything.

With the Void whispering in the dark. With Valentina’s eyes always on you. With this gnawing ache inside you that wants to break free.

You shove her back.

Yelena blinks–just for a second–but that’s all it takes.

Your hands spark again. The pole lights up like a fuse. The air around you cracks.

A pulse of energy blasts off the metal, like a shockwave made of light and raw feeling,and Yelena goes flying back a full ten feet.

She rolls, lands hard on her elbow, grunting.

Silence.

You stand frozen, the pole still crackling in your grip.

The observation window at the far end of the gym lights up.

One-way glass.

You know who’s behind it.

Yelena groans and pushes herself up, eyes locking on you with something close to awe. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” she mutters, breathless.

You don’t answer. You’re looking at the glass.

You can feel her.

Valentina.

Then you remember where you are and wander over to Yelena, offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes scanning her carefully as she pulls herself onto her feet. She laughs it off and rolls her shoulders back.

“Don’t be. That was good. Hurt like hell.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better.

Yelena notices. Of course she does.

She narrows her eyes at you, brushing dust off her elbow with a grunt. “Don’t do that.”

You blink. “Do what?”

“That face. Like you kicked a puppy. You didn’t hurt me–you surprised me. That’s different.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the gym doors hiss open before you get the chance.

Both your heads turn.

Valentina walks in, heels echoing against the floor like gunshots.

Her expression is unreadable–sharp eyes fixed on you, hands folded neatly behind her back. Too calm. Too calculated.

“Well,” she says, voice light but poisonous, “wasn’t that fun?”

You step back instinctively. Yelena moves in closer to your side.

Val stops a few paces from you both, gaze flicking to the scorched edge of the pole you dropped. “I’d say you’re improving,” she continues. “Though I doubt you even realize what you just did.”

You stiffen.

“I didn’t mean to–”

“That much is obvious,” Val says, smile thinning. “But we’re well past the point of hiding behind excuses, aren’t we?”

She glances at Yelena. “You can go.”

Yelena doesn’t move. She squares her shoulders, jaw flexing.

“I said go.”

There’s a beat. Then another.

Finally, Yelena steps away, brushing her knuckles gently against yours as she passes. You feel the weight of her glance over your shoulder–protective, warning.

Then she’s gone.

Valentina waits until the doors slide shut again before circling you. Slowly. Like a hawk.

“You’ve been holding back,” she says.

You flinch. “I’m trying to learn how to control it–”

“No,” she interrupts, voice cool. “You’re trying not to lose control. That’s not the same thing.”

She stops in front of you. “What I just saw? That was the real thing. That was instinct. Power without chains. You should lean into it.”

You shake your head. “It’s not safe.”

Her voice lowers. “It is if we teach you how to own it. Not fear it.”

Your stomach twists. The Void stirs–interested. Hungry.

Valentina smiles like she knows.

“You’re more than an empath. You’re a weapon. It’s time you start acting like one.”

The air feels stale the moment you walk in. Everyone's already seated in the boardroom. Yelena, with her arms crossed, Walker slouched in his chair, Ava flipping a pen between her fingers. Bob sits the way he always does: hunched over, polite, like someone still pretending he’s not a god under the skin.

Valentina enters last.

She doesn’t sit. Doesn’t need to. Her heels click once as she stops in front of the projection wall, and the lights dim automatically.

She clears her throat.

“We’re changing protocol. Effective immediately, she’s a part of the team. She’ll be field-ready in three weeks.”

You blink.

“What?” Bucky’s voice cuts first, sharp as a knife.

Valentina doesn’t flinch. “We’ve wasted enough time with training wheels. You’ve all seen what she can do now. This team needs something stronger. Sentry can’t always be our first line of defense.”

Yelena slams a palm flat against the table. “No. Absolutely not. We’re not letting you do this again.”

Val raises a brow, the barest hint of annoyance slipping through her practiced calm. “And what exactly do you think I’m doing, Yelena?”

“You’re weaponizing her. Just like you did with him.”

Everyone knows who she means.

You can feel it then–Bob stiffens beside you. Doesn't look up, just clasps his hands tighter in front of him. His shoulders curve in just slightly, like he’s bracing for impact.

Ava looks between you and Valentina like she’s watching a slow-motion car crash. Even Walker straightens in his seat.

Bucky pushes back his chair with a screech of metal. “We agreed,” he growls. “Training, not conditioning. Support, not programming.”

“She’s already stronger than most of you,” Val says. “I’m simply allowing her to prove it.”

“To whom?” Bob’s voice cuts through the room like a wire pulled too tight.

He still isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at you.

“To herself?” he continues, his voice quiet, almost flat. “To you? To the people she’ll tear through if something goes wrong?”

Valentina only tilts her head. “You turned out fine.”

“No, I didn’t,” he hisses.

The word lands harder than anything else that’s been said. Everyone falls silent again.

Bob finally looks up at her.

“I turned out useful.”

The room stills.

“I turned out good at following orders, at destroying what you asked me to destroy. I was useful until I stopped following orders and turned New York into a shadow.”

There’s no venom in his voice. Just the truth.

Then he looks at you again–really looks at you. Like he's begging you to read between the lines. Like he’s asking you to see what he became, and run the other way.

You want to puke. You want to cry. This whole briefing is about you, but you feel completely and utterly powerless. Like nothing you have to say matters.

But you say it anyway.

“I just want to help.” Valentina doesn’t flinch. She never does.

“Then do as you’re told,” she says, smooth and sharp like ice over steel.

It’s meant to be a final word. A dismissal.

But something’s shifted in the room.

You can feel it in Yelena’s stare, in the way Bucky’s jaw ticks like he’s clenching every word he wants to scream. In the quiet ache that lives in Bob’s eyes now, flickering gold at the edges like something just beneath the surface is threatening to break.

The silence stretches until Valentina turns, heels clicking, and the doors close with a hiss behind her.

Nobody speaks after she leaves.

Eventually, Walker mutters, “Jesus,” under his breath, and Ava throws her pen across the table. Yelena storms out.

You stay seated.

Bob’s still next to you. Still hunched, knuckles pale where they grip the edge of the table.

“Bob–” you start.

But he’s already pushing his chair back, already standing.

“Bob?”

You’re moving before you can stop yourself, nearly tripping over the wheels on your chair as you follow him into the hallway.

You’ve never seen him move so quickly, and it’s honestly irritating.

“Damnit, Bob, stop!”

He does–but only after another five strides down the hall. He stops so suddenly that you almost collide with his back.

He doesn’t look at you.

You circle around him, frustrated and breathless. “Hey. Talk to me.”

His jaw is tight. Eyes distant. There’s a flicker of gold at the edge of his irises, faint and fading.

“I told them this would happen,” he says finally. Quiet. Like the words weigh too much. “I told them the second she figured out what you could do, she’d find a way to use it.”

You blink, your heart pounding. “It’s not your fault, Bob.”

“Isn’t it?”

His voice comes out harsh, gold flaring in his irises as he steps forward, sudden and sharp.

You flinch– not because you're afraid of him, but because it’s the first time Bob’s ever raised his voice at you.

He sees it. Sees the way you tense, the way your fingers twitch like they might call your powers without you meaning to.

“You’re only here because of me. Because I needed something, someone to ground me. Now what?”

You know he’s starting to fade even before he straightens up, backing you up against the wall, nostrils flared and jaw clenched.

His voice stays low and controlled, but fraying around the edges. “Now she thinks she can use you the way she used me. Like we’re weapons waiting to be loaded.”

The gold in his eyes burns brighter, and the hallway seems narrower now.

Your back hits the wall. Not hard. Just enough for the tension to crack through your body like a taut wire.

“You think I don’t see it?” he hisses. “The way they look at you in briefings. The way she smiles when you do something new. That smile means you’re already halfway gone.”

“Bob.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. But it lands.

“No,” He replies, face inches away from yours as he holds your gaze. “You don’t get to suppress me right now.”

He takes a shaky breath, like he’s teetering on the edge.

“It’s not just her,” He whispers, a bit steadier now. “It’s Bucky and Yelena, too.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, but the words feel hollow. Because somewhere deep down, you already know.

“They’re watching you,” Bob says. “Every move you make. Every spark of power. Not because they’re worried you’ll get hurt, but because they’re afraid of what you’ll become.”

You want to argue. Want to say they care. That Bucky’s helping and Yelena’s training you to survive, not to cage you. But your throat closes around the words.

Because part of you has seen it, too. In the way Bucky's grip tightens when you lose focus. In the way Yelena’s teasing has turned sharp. In the way they look at you like you’re not fully you anymore.

You glance away. Bob doesn’t let you.

He grabs your chin, redirecting your gaze back to his.

“They're afraid because of what I became,” he says, voice shaking. “They think the same thing’s happening to you. But you’re not going to let them hold you back. Don’t let them hold you back.”

There’s something in his eyes– not cruel, not dark– but bright. Burning.

The golden shimmer behind his irises sharpens, flickers hotter. Like Sentry is rising, not to take over, but to defend.

Because he feels cornered. Because you feel cornered.

Because when Bob is too overwhelmed, Sentry steps in.

You realize it then– it’s still Bob. But it’s the part of him that’s all power and instinct, the part Valentina weaponized before he ever had the chance to choose.

You could stop him, you know that now. You could reach into the space between you and pull. You could say his name like a prayer or a plea. You could break the moment like glass.

But you don’t.

Because some part of you– the part they all keep trying to box in, muzzle, monitor– understands this version of him.

Not the broken soldier. Not the cautionary tale.

The storm.

The shimmer in his eyes deepens as he reads your silence not as fear, but permission. His hand, still at your chin, shifts and slides along your jaw, thumb ghosting your cheek.

He’s not smiling. Not leering.

He just looks.

Like he’s cataloging every crack in your armor and memorizing how to slip through.

“You’re not stopping me,” Sentry murmurs.

His voice is lower now. Steady. Like he’s not just talking to you, but to the echo of Bob inside him…the man who flinches and runs and wants too much.

“I don’t want to.”

The words hang there, heavier than they should be. They sound smaller when you say them. Like a confession. Like you’re scared of how much you mean it.

A flicker of gold catches in the light. Not a threat. Just a reaction. His pupils dilate, soaking you in.

He steps closer.

Your shoulders are still pressed to the wall, heart loud in your chest. But you don’t move, you don’t flinch.

“Stop letting everyone control you.” He whispers. It’s not sinister like the Void, it’s genuine guidance. Like he’s trying to mentor you.

“They’re trying to train you to be safe,” he whispers. “I want you to be free.”

A pause.

And then:

“I’ll never tell you to hold back.”

You should push him away.

You should pull Bob back to the surface, reach for the steadier version of him you know best– the one who whispers comfort into your hair, who makes you coffee when your hands won’t stop shaking. The one who tries so hard to be good.

But this?

This doesn’t feel bad.

Sentry steps in closer, and this time, your fingers twitch toward his. The contact is light, barely there, but it sparks something all the same. The same pulse you felt when your powers flared through the metal pole. That rush of something ancient and electric.

You let your eyes close. Just for a second.

It’s enough.

He breathes you in again, but it’s different this time. Slower. Like he’s grounding himself, not consuming you. Like he wants to feel tethered too.

“I feel you,” he whispers, so soft it almost breaks you. “Even when I’m buried. I feel you.”

Your lips part. But no sound comes out. Your voice isn’t working. Your brain’s too full of static and gold and want and fear.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he says.

“You don’t,” you breathe.

Then he leans forward. Not to kiss you, not quite.

His forehead presses to yours, and for the first time, he doesn’t feel like a weapon. Or a God, or a hero.

He just feels real.

Warmth builds between you, slow and steady this time, not like a flare but a current. The lights in the hallway hum louder. Your palms glow faintly where they touch. It’s not volatile. It’s steady.

Safe, even if it shouldn’t be.

You don’t know how long you stand there, forehead to forehead, tethered by something neither of you fully understand. But it’s quiet now. Charged, yes–but quiet. You can hear his breathing. Feel the tremble still lingering in his fingertips where they rest against your ribs.

Sentry… or Bob… or whatever blend of them this is now–he’s watching you like he’s memorizing you. Every flicker in your expression. Every uneven breath.

“You ground me,” he says, barely a whisper.

It’s not a declaration. It’s a confession. The kind that aches with truth.

You nod slowly, your hand lifting to cup his cheek.

Something flickers in his throat, like he wants to say your name but it might undo him. He leans in–not to press closer, but like he wants to share the same breath. As if you’re the last thread keeping him tethered to this version of himself. Not the monster. Not the myth. Just the man.

“You feel like…” he trails off, then laughs under his breath. It’s soft. Self-deprecating. “I don’t know what you feel like.”

“Then stop talking,” you whisper. “Just feel.”

You guide his hand up slightly, over your collarbone. He doesn't grip, doesn’t take, doesn’t claim. He asks without a word, and when your breath hitches just enough to answer him, he lets his hand settle there–gentle, reverent.

When he speaks again, it’s not Bob. It’s not Sentry. It’s the space between.

“You make me feel human.”

It punches the air right out of your lungs. Not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s honest. And there’s nothing more dangerous than a man with the power of a god who wants, more than anything, to be held.

Your hand curls into the front of his shirt. The fabric is still warm from the briefing room, from the rage he was trying to bury. And now he’s giving you all of it.

Slowly, you tug him forward. He comes willingly. No tension in his shoulders now. Just ache.

And when your lips meet, it’s not hot or heavy–it’s steady. Like something earned.

Like permission.

His hands tremble just slightly against your skin, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to want you. But you stay close enough to remind him he doesn’t have to be sure… he just has to feel.

And he does.

Every second of it.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #thunderbolts fanfic #afab reader #the sentry x reader #the void x reader

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telamonisms · 21 hours ago

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Could I request an Elliot x reader headcanons for a reader who is just awful at cooking yet keeps trying to cook?

✦More than happy to oblige Anon.

✦ELLIOT WITH A READER WHO CAN'T COOK HEADCANONS✦

✦When you first tell him, he gives you a sweet smile and tells you that it can't ve that bad and to just give it a try.

✦It wasn't that bad, it was worse, somehow you'd set fire to the kitchen in the process of making a simple grilled cheese.

✦No problem! He would be there with you next time every step of the way...which still ended up on the kitchen being burnt.

✦Okay, change of plans, maybe something that doesn't require fire, like a fruit salad!

✦A concerning ammount of cuts and bleeding later, you actually managed to produce what looked like a pretty decent fruit salad!

✦Up until Elliot tried it and almost died, finding out that the white powder over it wasn't the, mostly cosmetic, sugar powder but instead it was salt.

✦He wonders how you haven't gotten food poisoning like this, until you reveal that everyone at the hospital knows you by name and is practically buddy buddy with you.

✦Needless to say, Elliot is heavily concerned, but he keeps up his hopes and continues to try and teach you with a smile on his face because he sees that despite it all, you're still trying. And he can't fault you for that. Plus, he finds it extremely charming!

✦If you ever start feeling down about how many times you've failed to cook something he will make sure to cheer you up and on. He doesn't want you to get sad or disheartened over your inability to cook and no matter how many times or how bad you fail, he will always be there, reassuring you and pointing out every little bit of improvement you make.

✦This one was quite sweet and enjoyable, I trully do believe that Elliot is a supportive ball of sunshine and I quite had fun writing for him.

#Writings of the Fanatic #elliot x reader #x reader headcanons #x reader #forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #forsaken #forsaken elliot #elliot forsaken #elliot x reader headcanons #forsaken elliot x reader #elliot forsaken x reader

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hoe-days · 2 days ago

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i'd love to here more about girl dad Stan :)

my dad was a huge girl dad (due to reasons i'm leaving out of this ask), him learning to braid my hair then teaching me was some of my best memories with him

I'd like to see Stan doing something like that while Xeno is awe-struck or something bc his cunty nails only fuck up their daughter's hair more when he tries to help

This made me think of a scenario.

For once one of my XenoStan daughter posts will be set after petrification.

———

A while back I said Xeno wouldn’t revive their daughter until after the moon mission. BUT imagine this.

Before Senku even comes to America, they find their daughter’s statue, but not their S/O’s. I wanna say that their S/O and daughter were back at a hotel when they were at the conference. That’s important for this background.

So they find daughter’s statue. Obviously at this point they don’t know the full petrification formula so all they can do is pour the nitric acid and hope. But they don’t at first. They don’t want to revive their daughter without S/O.

It weighs on them eventually though and Xeno finally does it. And nothing happens. Some time passes, about a week or so and Stan is doing his usual thing, shooting at the targets outside when Luna runs up all frantic, rambling something about a little girl and the castle. That’s when he realizes. When he runs inside he finds Xeno standing there holding their daughter wrapped up in a sheet.

————

Now that I got that out of the way.

They have to figure out how to take care of her in a post petrification world. They can do the basic things easy, they did it before the petrification. Feed her, keep her clean, put her to sleep, keep her occupied with toys. They do fine. But then her hair starts to get unkempt. S/O normally did the dressing and pampering. Naturally, Luna steps in to help detangle and keep it braided. That works, till it doesn’t. They can’t just call Luna every time out of the blue.

Xeno knows he can’t do it with those claws, so he attempts without them. FAIL. Braiding hair is different than combining wires.

One day, Stan is sitting with her trying to figure out what to do with her hair. He thinks about cutting it, but she protests. Okay. He can’t argue with that face. So he attempts, and he realizes that he’s pretty good at it. After that, in his free time he tries to remember the ways S/O used to do Daughter’s hair. Problem solved.

Xeno applauds him, but soon he becomes the target of the braids. Daughter is a big girl now. She’s 5 and a few thousand years! She wants to learn for herself. Stan is outside most of the time, so that leaves Xeno. She practices on him when he’s sitting down. Stan joins during the evenings. She starts out just braiding the ends of his hair, but then she goes for his pompadour. Xeno puts an end to it after that.

Stan helps her negotiate tho. So now braiding time is reserved for night when Xeno takes his hair down.

#dr stone #dcst brainrot #stanley snyder #xeno houston wingfield #xenostan #xenostan x reader

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yourleogf · 1 day ago

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private show ❥ ace greene

PAIRING: ace greene x black!fem!oc

SUMMARY: see image below + in which Ace and Giselle try something new in the bedroom. 🩷

“i wanna try somethin’ new with’chu.” Ace admitted as he led Giselle upstairs to their shared bedroom, their fingers intertwined while Giselle’s dark brown eyes studied him closely.

“what is it?” Giselle asked curiously as the two walked into the bedroom and Ace walked her over to the bed, sitting her down on it and taking a step back from her.

“guided masturbation.”

one of Giselle’s eyebrows raised in curiosity as she looked up at him, a small smirk creeping into her face while she leaned back onto her elbows. she was interested and it was obvious in her demeanor. it was no secret to Ace that Giselle masturbated, but for him to basically ask her to do it in front of him turned her on more than anything, and she was curious to see how he’d react once they got down to business.

“okay… what’chu want me to do first, baby?”

“strip for me.. nice and slow, ma.”

Giselle’s smirk slightly widened as she leaned up from the bed and stood up, her eyes never leaving Ace’s, who stood a few feet from her. her manicured fingers grabbed the hem of her crop top and pulled it over her head as she tossed it to the ground, revealing her royal blue lace bra against her brown skin.

next to go was her shorts, and she unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly to tease Ace as she turned around and slowly pushed her shorts down her moisturized legs, giving Ace a good view of her ass and letting her shorts slip down to her ankles while her matching royal blue undies came into sight.

stepping out of and kicking away her bottoms, Giselle turned around and locked eyes with Ace, who was staring at her with a look of lustful hunger in his brown eyes. smirking, she reached behind her and gripped the clasp of her bra, but was stopped by the sound of Ace’s voice.

“you ain’t gotta’ do that,” Ace suddenly spoke, his voice sounding slightly deeper and laced with something intoxicating, as he ran his tongue over his lips and scanned Giselle’s figure from head to toe, “get on the bed.”

Giselle obliged and climbed back to her previous position as she laid flat on her back with her legs bent and her feet resting on the bed, spreading her legs a bit to look at Ace for his next command.

“slide them panties off for me, mama.”

Giselle bit down on her bottom lip to suppress the smile growing on her face and she gripped the waistband of her panties as she raised her hips a bit and slid them off her body, a string of her wetness attached to them before she discarded them to the floor.

“damn..” Ace mumbled in awe as his gaze lingered on Giselle’s wet panties before returning back to her, his eyes noticeably darker due to his arousal, “how you be touchin’ yourself when i ain’t there, Giselle?”

Giselle’s two-toned lips curled up into a sheepish smile and her brown face held a soft blush, her braids cascading behind her while one lingered on her shoulder.

“i, uh…” Giselle swallowed the nervous lump in her throat before continuing, “i start by rubbin’ my clit.”

“so what’chu waitin’ on?”

Giselle let out a soft laugh and a small smile rested on her face as she reached her dominant hand between her legs and rested her fingers on top of her bundle of nerves, rubbing it in slow, hypnotizing circles while her legs instinctively spread wider. soft tingles spread throughout her body from her actions and her lips slightly parted as her nipples suddenly hardened through her bra, her eyes fluttering a bit while she looked at a smirking Ace.

“speed up a lil’ bit, shawty.”

Giselle’s fingers moved to his command naturally, her head falling back a bit while she let out a moan. her eyebrows furrowed a bit and her breathing started to pick up as her clitoris thumped beneath her fingers, her hips slightly bucking up to meet her fingertips while she bit her lip.

“what’chu do after that?”

“i… i finger myself.”

knowing what he wanted her to do, Giselle didn’t wait on Ace’s command. instead, she slid her middle finger inside of her and thrusted it at a steady pace, another moan oozing from her parted lips while her eyes gradually shut. sinking deeper into her pleasure, more moans started to pour from Giselle’s mouth, and it was evident that she was now locked into the part she had to play.

“add another finger for me, Giselle.”

Giselle added her ring finger inside of her and started picking up the pace a bit, her eyes rolling back and her hips grinding against her hand while Ace watched her intently. his bottom lip rested between his teeth as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes, his dick stiffening in his shorts while he remained zoned in on Giselle.

Giselle’s wetness coated her fingers and left them slick as she thrusted them, her face filled with concentration on reaching her peak yet twisting up with love faces. her unoccupied hand gripped the back of one of her thighs to keep her legs spread and her stomach muscles lightly convulsed due to her impending climax as her hardened nipples poked through the fabric of her bra and one of her braids fell into her face, light sweat coating her body and adding the cherry on top of Ace’s private show.

“Ace..” Giselle moaned as her eyes fluttered shut for a second time, her imagination running wild with fantasies and sex flashbacks of her and Ace.

“what’chu be thinkin’ about when you be masturbatin’, Giselle?” Ace inquired as his eyes wandered over her hypnotically.

“y-you… us..” Giselle breathily replied as her head fell back, a whimper falling from her lips while her chest heaved up and down.

“gimme’ some details, pretty.”

Giselle swallowed back a moan and parted her lips, a sigh of contentment exiting them instead, “i-i think of you f-fuckin’ me… rubbin’ on me… eatin’ me out… h-how you talk me through it..”

“yeah? what’chu imagine me sayin’?”

“oh, my gosh..” Giselle whimpered as she raised her head and looked between her legs, watching her fingers slip in and out of her wet pussy and become drenched in her juices, “i-i… i t-think of..”

Giselle’s hips suddenly bucked and she let out a loud moan as her eyes rolled back and her head followed lead, falling back once again while her back slightly arched, “i-i’m ‘bout to cum, Ace..”

“uh-uh, answer my question first.”

Giselle’s lips parted and she remained silent for a few seconds before speaking, “i think of w-when you be praisin’ me a-and complimentin’ me.. a-and when you be sweet-talkin’ me to keep me ffffrom tappin’ out..”

“Aceeee..” Giselle called out to him again in a whine as her head lifted and she met his intense gaze with her weaker one, her climax so close she could touch it with her unoccupied hand.

“what’chu need, ma?” Ace asked, his tone holding a light taunt, as his dick jumped in his shorts at her hooded eyes meeting his and he bit down on his bottom lip.

“y-you�� i need you..” Giselle begged in a moan as her eyebrows slightly furrowed and her face held a pouty look.

“come p-play with me, baby..”

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awstrainingtipsandtricks · 2 years ago

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How to Create an AWS Account in 2025: A Beginner’s Guide to Getting Started with Amazon Web Services

As cloud computing becomes the backbone of modern digital infrastructure, more individuals and businesses are turning to Amazon Web Services (AWS) for scalable, secure, and cost-effective cloud solutions. Whether you’re a tech enthusiast, a student, or a business owner, creating an AWS account is the first essential step to unlocking a world of cloud capabilities. This guide will walk you through the updated process of signing up for AWS in 2025, helping you get started with confidence.

Step 1: Visit the Official AWS Website

To begin, open your preferred web browser and navigate to the official AWS website. The homepage features the latest offerings and services, but to create an account, click the prominently displayed “Create an AWS Account” button. This will redirect you to the account registration page where you can begin the onboarding process.

Step 2: Select Your Account Type – Root vs IAM User

AWS offers two primary types of users:

Root User: This is the main account holder with full administrative access, including billing and service control. It’s ideal for individuals or the primary admin setting up an organization’s AWS environment.

IAM User (Identity and Access Management): These are users created under the root account with limited, customizable permissions. IAM users are typically used for teams or applications requiring specific access levels.

Note: Before setting up IAM users, you must first register using a root account.

Step 3: Enter Your Personal and Contact Information

Fill in your email address, set a strong password, and choose an AWS account name. This name acts as your account alias and helps identify your account within the AWS ecosystem. You’ll also need to provide valid contact details, including your country and phone number.

This step is critical for identity validation and security compliance, especially as AWS continues to enhance its privacy and verification protocols in 2025.

Step 4: Accept the AWS Customer Agreement

Before proceeding, you must review and agree to the AWS Customer Agreement. This outlines the terms of service, usage policies, and data privacy commitments. You may refer to credible resources that break down cloud service agreements to better understand your responsibilities as a user.

Step 5: Add a Valid Payment Method

Although AWS provides a Free Tier with limited services at no cost, you’ll still need to enter a valid payment method. AWS uses your card details to verify identity and facilitate future billing if you use paid services. Most major credit and debit cards are accepted, and in many regions, PayPal is now an approved alternative.

Note: Charges will only occur if your usage exceeds the Free Tier limits.

Step 6: Verify Your Identity

For security reasons, AWS performs a quick identity verification. Typically, you’ll receive an automated phone call with a unique verification code that you must enter online. This step ensures that only authorized users can access sensitive AWS tools and services.

Step 7: Choose Your AWS Support Plan

AWS offers four support tiers:

Basic: Free and ideal for beginners or those testing AWS services.

Developer: Paid plan for users needing technical guidance during development.

Business: Designed for production workloads with faster response times.

Enterprise: Comprehensive support for mission-critical applications and enterprise infrastructure.

Start with the Basic plan if you’re just exploring, and you can upgrade as your needs evolve.

Step 8: Finalize Account Creation

After completing the above steps, click on “Continue” to activate your account. You’ll receive a confirmation email from AWS with next steps and access details. Once verified, you can sign into the AWS Management Console and begin provisioning cloud resources like EC2 instances, S3 buckets, or RDS databases.

What’s Next After Account Creation?

Once your account is live, consider enabling multi-factor authentication (MFA) to enhance account security. Additionally, start familiarizing yourself with the AWS Free Tier offerings and key services relevant to your goals—whether it's data storage, hosting, or machine learning.

Tip: You can explore AWS tutorials or community forums to deepen your understanding.

Conclusion

Creating an AWS account in 2025 is simpler than ever, thanks to streamlined onboarding and enhanced user experience. With just a few steps, you gain access to one of the most powerful cloud platforms in the world. Whether you're planning to build applications, host websites, or manage enterprise-scale systems, AWS equips you with the tools to scale efficiently and securely.

Ready to take the next step? Dive into the AWS Console today and start exploring the vast possibilities of cloud computing.

#What is the first step in getting started with AWS?#AWS Training in Chandigarh

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sanchomps · 9 months ago

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doom eternal being so obsessed with face reveals they forget the captivating mystic of leaving the helmet/hood on and letting people fill in the gaps with their imagination

#its been what 4 years now it still pisses me off #samur didnt NEED a face reveal it was more interesting with his hood up #maykrs already are a hivemind but the seraphim (plural) take that to another level #remaining to be enrobed in shadow they are their duty first and foremost and nothing else #which made samur step away from that somehow. and implied created the body samuel hayden himself. mwah #but who fucking cares about that we have to flex how many polygons those luscious human lips are but it is also an armor face plate #whatever. whatever #do not get me started with doom slayer and his awful skins and his actual in game story face reveal was flattened zero impact #bc of all the stupid skins taking off his helmet #why i think doom slayer n samuel have fascinating parallels #their duties seem to define and shape them. but they are still their own individuals #theyre just a bit fucked up and put themselves on the frontlines

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meowmedusa · 8 months ago

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looking at the clock and going "oh. i didn't. even realize it was past 8pm." and its not funny or cool its just unbelievably concerning

#medusa rambles #kind of venty ig #ive been having. a really shitty two weeks and an even shittier few days #i decided to step down from the student organization i started a year ago #which basically means itll probably fade into oblivion #i lost so many connections i had to this awful fucking college #in the past two weeks #and its like #all i have left tying me there is a degree that i don't really need for what i want to do #and a handful of professors & staff i genuinely value #i have very little support system in general and its just #why am i even staying here #why stay. genuinely why stay #i am such a community based person and like #i have no community there #everyone who im close with there just #are busy and i get it and i understand it but we Don't Talk. they understand my life via scattered updates that they dont really care for #and talking into the void is funny until its. not.#and logically i know that this is just like. pure depression speaking and not actually reflective of whether my friends care for me or not #but it just doesnt matter #and i think its just like. i Need to stop trying #because every attempt at any form of connection #that just fails completely and utterly is so severely damaging #but what do i have if i don't try. what is there otherwise.#i remember a year ago #when i first started college #sitting in my dorm and sobbing every night because i was just so fucking isolated from everyone around me #and its like. nothing has really changed. i am just as isolated as i was then #i think honestly like. maybe i do just need to be hospitalized again #i dont. feel like i did when i was 16 but i know that This is not sustainable and not good and like. sitting and going

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kaitoru · 15 days ago

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𓂃 vanilla glazed

In which you stack donuts on his dihuhh :]

࣪ ִֶָ sorry im far too gone

cw. explicit. foodplay. mlist

“i wanna stack these donuts… here.” your hand brushes his cock through his sweats, and he freezes, eyes widening.

“what?” he chokes out, stepping back, but his voice betrays him, a little too curious. “you’re—fuckin serious? stackin donuts on my dick?”

“im serious.” you say, grinning, grabbing a donut and twirling it on your finger, your voice sultry. “gonna stack em, eat em off…u down, or you scared?” gojo’s mouth drops. “holy shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, his shock melting into a grin.

“you’re a fucking freak, you know that?” but his voice is thick, his cock twitching in his sweats, already hard at the idea.

“alright… fuck it. let’s see how freaky you really are.” you laugh, triumphant, pushing him back until he’s leaning against the counter, your hands tugging his sweats down, freeing his cock already hard.

“oh, you’re excited.” you tease, smirking as he groans, his head tipping back, hands gripping the counter, his eyes locked on you as you kneel, grabbing a donut.

“this is… fuckin’ insane.” you wink, sliding the first donut onto his cock, careful, the sugary glaze catching the light, he hisses, the sensation odd but hot, his body tensing.

“fuck, thats—weird.” he groaned cock twitching under the donut’s weight, you add another, then a third, stacking them slow, your eyes flicking up to his.

“look at that..” you purr, your voice dripping with mischief, settling back on your knees, your hands on his thighs. “my own little treat tower.” you lean in, your tongue flicking the tip of his cock above the donuts, and he moans, low and raw, his hands flying to your hair.

“fuck, baby..m” he groans, his voice breaking, his eyes wide with arousal and awe. “you’re so fuckin’ freaky, i love it.” he’s panting, his hips twitching, clearly turned on by your boldness, your gaze locked on his as you take a slow bite of the top donut, your lips brushing his tip.

“Mmm...” you hum, chewing deliberately, your eyes never leaving his, watching him unravel. “tastes better like this.” you lick the glaze off his cock, slow and teasing, and he curses, his grip tightening in your hair, his excitement palpable.

“goddamn, you’re killin’ me.” he says hips bucking slightly as you eat the donut, your tongue swirling around him, catching every bit of sugar and precum.

“keep lookin’ at me like that—fuck, you’re too much.” you grin, swallowing, then take another bite, your lips grazing his shaft, your hands stroking his thighs.

tou finish the last donut, your lips closing around him, sucking hard, taking him deeper. “fuck, baby.” he groans, his hips bucking, his hands tugging your hair, guiding you as you bob your head, your tongue swirling, your moans vibrating against him.

“you’re—so good, gonna make me cum.”

you started sucking hard, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach, and he’s gone, cumming with a loud groan, his cock pulsing, spilling into your mouth.

“fuck..” he pants, his voice breaking, his hands still in your hair as you swallow, licking him clean.

he pulls you up, kissing you hard, tasting sugar and himself, his grin wide and dazed. “fuckin’ freak.” he says, laughing, his voice warm, pulling you against his chest.

“where’d you even get that idea?” you grinned licking your lips. "secret."

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dollfacefantasy · 6 months ago

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IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay. Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched. He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in.

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking.

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded.

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker.

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest).

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog.

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment.

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too.

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie.

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered.

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips.

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you.

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward.

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though.

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself.

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

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