#and was like does it always take this long to get helped and i was like well its lunch time

[strang3lov3]

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You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.

Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)

Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described Fic Help - @joeloverture, @joelsgreys, and @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect. A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷

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You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆

It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage. 

Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right. 

He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself. 

He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.

 Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination. 

Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him. 

His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from tommyboy69er@aol.com interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup. 

here’s this for your spank bank pervert 

No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.

Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game. 

From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight,  and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.

The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video. 

CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–

Windows System Alert

Error Code: 0x80070070

Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.

Please take the following actions immediately:

Save all work in progress.

Disconnect from the internet.

Run a full system scan with your security software.

For further assistance, contact technical support.

“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.

Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house. 

-

You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad. 

You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people. 

You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”

“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe. 

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”

It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?” 

“You already mow my lawn.” 

“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?” 

“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone. 

You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.

Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”

Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips. 

Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”

“I’m diagnosing.”

Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety. 

You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”

Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”

“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.

“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”

 Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.

 “When did you say this problem started again?”

“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”

“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”

Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.

“Anything else?”

Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.” 

You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?” 

“Yes.”

“Clicking on chainmail?” 

“I am not.”

“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?

-

Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from jmiller@aol.com, you decided to confront him. 

Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.

“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”

Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”

You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.

Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”

“Go right ahead, hon.”

You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him. 

Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”

“I have.”

The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”

It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”

 “Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”

“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”

“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”

You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.” 

Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”

You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone. 

“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…

 …Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.

 …Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”

From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, s’all good.”

Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”

“Figured. I need it.” 

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”

“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”

“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”

Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.  

“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password.  ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.” 

From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.

-

“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”

Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”

“What kind of links?”

“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists. 

“What’s on these websites?”

Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.

“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.” 

“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”

“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”

“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.

Which…tracks. 

Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003

5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie

4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style

4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs

4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home

His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so… 

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”

Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.

“Yeah, lady parts.”

Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”

Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.

“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part. 

You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.  

You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind. 

After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”

Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.

“Wipe it, then.”

And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now. 

The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.

Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”

“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”

“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect.  “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.

“What picture?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?” 

You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”

“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is. 

“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate. 

But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”

“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”

“You’re–”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”

“Yeah, so you say, princess.”

You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be. 

“I am.”

“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.

You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so. 

Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,

“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block tommyboy69er@aol.com. 

“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer. 

“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”

Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”

You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.

Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”

  Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”

You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?” 

He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.

And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm. 

He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”

“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”

You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”

You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own. 

He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours. 

“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”

“Make me come, please.”

“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you. 

“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”

You nod, sniffling quietly. 

“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”

“How?”

“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”

“F-for teasing you and stuff.”

“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”

You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”

Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.

“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”

“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower. 

You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit. 

“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry. 

“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”

“Joel–” 

You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”

Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all. 

When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say. 

“Hm?”

“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”

Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.” 

“It’s no problem,” you reply. 

“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”

You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.

Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.

[kxsalt]

“My favourite student.” The teacher remarks with a touch of sarcasm. “…You asked me to stay after class?” Nervously fidgeting on the other side of the desk, the student stands at attention in the empty classroom. “This isn’t the first time you’ve fallen asleep in my class. You always seem so interested in the subject, but lately I can tell your mind is wandering.”

The girl nods sheepishly. He continues; “I just wanted to check in with you, see if there’s anything I can do to help.” She bites her lower lip. A long pause, punctuated by a shake of the head. What’s she thinking of… The teacher tries to read the mind of his student. He sits her down at his desk to finish the work she missed during her nap.

They work in silence together. Occasionally, he looks over at her. Mindful of his student’s wellbeing, he tries to think of other ways to help.

It’s so warm in here. The fans aren’t enough. Maybe if I was a little more lax on the dress code... He stares at her chest. Let her unbutton her shirt some more, or even take it off. A shorter skirt. She doesn't need panties. What if she didn’t wear a bra, either? I could call her up to the front of the class, let the breeze waft through her legs. I could see her pussy through her thigh gap. He catches himself, pushing his inappropriate thoughts out of his mind.

Maybe she’s just undisciplined. Perhaps I’ve been too soft on her. An old-school punishment might help… She gets up for a drink of water. The teacher watches her bum sway back and forth as she walks. A firm spanking. Turn her ass pink. Bend her over my desk and tell her how naughty she is for misbehaving. Have her pull her skirt up. Show everyone what happens to bad girls. Slap her asscheeks raw. Pull her panties down and force my fingers into her little cunt. Snapping back from his fantasy, he rubs his eyes as she sits down at his desk again.

Does she respect me? Authority is important. Can’t have some brat getting out of line. His eyes roam over her small, light body. I should put her in her place. Push my cock deep in her throat, face-fuck her. That would show her who’s in charge. Grab her pigtails and pull her onto my dick. Use her little pussy as my cum dump. If I fuck her whenever I want, however I want, that should keep her in line. She won’t be so proud once I break her pussy on my cock.

“Sir? I finished my work…” His eyes shoot up from her body to her face. She smiles meekly as she pushes the schoolwork across the desk. “I really hope I did good… I do like your class a lot, and I’m sorry for causing trouble.” The girl apologizes bashfully. “I really appreciate the extra attention…”

“Yes, ahem, uh… anything I can do to help my students…” The teacher desperately tries to collect his thoughts. “Anything?” She chirps. “Can I have some tutoring? My family is out of town for a bit, so I have lots of time… and I think something more in depth would help.”

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part four

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

When you wake up that following morning, you’re confused for the first few seconds about which room you’re in. This is not the guest room from Lando his apartment. Slowly the morning fussiness inside you clears up. The events from last night come back to you. Lando was screaming and making sounds all night, which caused you to check it out. He had a nightmare. You awoke him. After another stupid remark from Lando, you decided to watch some television with him - in his bed. Did you fall asleep in his bed? Shit. Carefully you look next to you. When you look and notice Lando, who’s still peacefully asleep, you realize that you did fall asleep next to him. 

The part that sits with you the most right now? It feels weirdly comfortable to lay next to Lando in his bed. It scares you. The wise thing to do is to get out of his bed, get back into your own and forget about this situation. Although you already know that Lando will bring it up eventually. You don’t want to leave his warm bed, but you don’t see another option right now. So, carefully you turn yourself around and move away from Lando. It’s only now that you notice how close you were laying to Lando. 

When you get away from the blankets and take your first move to get out of the bed, you’re quick to be stopped. It’s Lando who’s stopping you. He’s quick to grab your arm and to stop you from leaving his bed. “Not yet,” he softly mutters while pulling you back to himself. You notice how much deeper his voice is in the morning. Fuck, his voice is hot like this. Slowly you give in and move yourself back underneath the blankets. You know that this isn’t smart, but you can’t help yourself. Lando is quick to get you into his arms. It feels weird to lay into his arms like this, but in some even weirder way it also feels really nice. Lando wraps his arms around your body. 

You allow yourself to fall back asleep in Lando his arms. This is an one time thing, you keep reminding yourself. This can’t happen again. That means you better enjoy it for how long it lasts. Lando however tries to stay awake this time. When he notices your closed eyes and peaceful  deep breaths, he can only focus on how to get you in his bed again. He needs to experience this more often. Or even better, this should become the new normal. 

Eventually Lando can’t stop himself from falling asleep again as well. Before closing his eyes and giving in, he presses a soft kiss on the top of your head. You have turned yourself completely into his body. Lando feels his underwear tighten around his crotch. Feeling your body onto his own like this will probably be an image that he won’t forget about quickly. 

When Lando wakes up again, you have left his bed already. 

+++

“You’re actually insane,” Lando grunts annoyed, “Who in their right mind is going on a date with their ex boyfriend?”

“It’s not a date,” you sigh with the same annoyed tone as Lando was using earlier. 

“Not a date?” Lando asks you sarcastically, he almost laughs at you for the remark. “You’re going to a restaurant to have dinner with your ex boyfriend. Doesn’t that sound like a date to you?”

“Why do you even care,” you ask Lando with a raised voice. The annoyance is obvious in your voice. You know that Lando does have a point, but you can’t tell him that. Right? Earlier today your ex called you. Which seemed weird to you, since the last time you spoke to him was a couple months back during the break up. He told you that he still had some of your stuff which he wanted to give back to you and that he wanted to apologize. You have no idea what stuff he still has of you, but you can only hope that it’s the sweater you have been missing for a while. It was the most logical idea to meet up somewhere. The worst idea was to invite him into Lando his apartment and you also didn’t want to go to his place, so you settled for a restaurant. Exactly like your ex wanted.

“Why shouldn’t I care?” Lando asks you back.

“Because you don’t care about me,” you are quick to slap back. 

Lando can’t stop himself and lets out a loud laugh. It almost scares you. “You’re really stupid,” he tells you while laughing. 

“Great!” You tell angrily. Now he really crossed a line with you. “Stupid, insane, what else do you think of me?” You ask him with the same angry tone in your voice. 

Lando holds back a lot of words right now. It takes a lot from him to not start to scream at you what he actually thinks about you. What a stupid question. It’s not like he thinks that you’re insane and stupid, but he does think that about your idea of going to dinner with your ex. Normally Lando thinks you’re the most beautiful, smart, kind and many positive things more, girl he knows. Although he does think you’re a bit bratty, but in some way that only makes you more attractive in his eyes. He wants nothing more then to fuck all of that brattiness our of you, only for it to come back every time again. That would be the best. 

“Sorry,” Lando sighs with a more calmer tone in his voice then before, “I don’t think you’re stupid and insane, okay? It’s just that I think that this idea is pretty stupid and insane. He’s your ex for a reason, you can’t date him again.”

“You’re not deciding things like that for me,” you tell him angrily. After those words you turn yourself around and start walking towards your own room. You’re really not in the mood to stay with Lando any longer right now. An annoyed groan leaves your throat, it’s not like you think this is a date - although you have no idea how to call it otherwise. And it’s really not like you want to get back with your ex, but you do want to stay civil with him. 

“Don’t walk away,” Lando yells after you. 

“Why not?” You yell back, “So you can insult me even more?”

After those words you slam the door of your bedroom shut with a loud bang. Lando sighs when he hears the door slam. He almost slaps himself. How is it that every time things seems to be going alright between you and him, he finds a way to fuck it up? He thinks about following you and trying to apologize, but eventually it seems a better idea to let you cool down for a bit. 

In the mean time you’re making yourself ready for later tonight. You have no idea what to wear and how much time to spend on your make up. Of course, you do want to look nice, but you don’t want your ex to think that you did that for him. This is complicated. Eventually you pick out a dress and put on a light make up look. You still have some time left. Since you’re not in the mood to clash with Lando again, you decide to relax for a bit on your bed and watch some TikTok’s. 

When you do come back in the living room an small hour later, it doesn’t take long before Lando his frustrations comes back up again. He feels himself getting mad all over again. This time it’s caused by the way you’re looking. Why are you dressed this nicely for a date with your ex? He starts to doubt if you do want him back. It sure does seem like it. Lando can’t look away from you. Earlier today he called you insane, but now he’s pretty sure that he’s the insane one. All because of you. You’re making him lose his mind. 

You notice the way Lando is looking at you. The frustration is clearly displayed on his face. Is he still mad? You felt like you were calmed down about it, but seeing Lando staring at you like this makes your frustration come back as well. 

“You look good,” Lando eventually tells you with an annoyed tone. Before you can ask about his tone or thank him for the compliment (?), he’s already talking further. “Too good,” he adds.  You want to ask what he means, but when you see the notification coming up on your phone you decide to let it be. Your ex is already here. 

“I’m leaving,” you tell Lando, “Bye.”

Lando hurries himself after you when you walk away from him again. Quickly he grabs your hand. “Just be careful alright?” He asks you. 

His behavior confuses you. What does he mean with this? It’s just your ex, not some criminal. Or is this still because he thinks you’re stupid? “I wonder if I can,” you bite, “I mean I’m pretty stupid after all.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lando sighs annoyed, “Just call or text me if you need help.” After those words you’re quick to walk away from Lando. Everything about him confuses you. Fuck. Maybe you’re getting insane, Lando makes you lose your mind. 

 +++

This day won’t get any better. Your ex boyfriend did bring your lost sweater, but that’s the only positive thing so far. He’s going on and on about how much he misses you. At first it was kinda sweet, but now it’s just annoying. You didn’t break up with him without a good reason, so you don’t feel tempted to act out on his pleas. Not that he asked about getting back together, but you suspect that the question can come anytime. 

Maybe Lando was right, this is weird. You should have bought a new sweater instead of doing this. He did already send you multiple messages, maybe you should text Lando to help you out of this situation? You almost laugh at your own dumb idea. Lando will probably text back something in the lines of: “I told you so.” He isn’t going to help you with the mess you created yourself.

It’s a shame Max isn’t around. You try to remember why your brother isn’t in Monaco right now, but you don’t remember the reason right now. You do however remember that you really need to meet up with him soon, you haven’t seen him for a bit. 

“Don’t you miss me as well babygirl?” Your ex asks you. His questions shakes you out off your earlier thoughts. No, you don’t miss him. That isn’t the strange thing you’re feeling right now. It’s his last word. Babygirl. He never called you that before. He wasn’t one for nicknames like that. Since when is he calling you babygirl? It feels weird. 

It takes you a short minute before you can say why it feels weird. Normally it’s Lando who calls you babygirl. Shit. Is this really feeling weird because you’re used to Lando? 

“Please don’t call me that,” you politely tell your ex. He gives you a strange look. “Earlier you begged me to give you a cute nickname?” He asks confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “When we were in a relationship.”

His remark reminds you about why you broke up with him the first place. Yes, he was your boyfriend but often it didn’t feel like it. He was always too busy to make time for you. Which wasn’t that bad, until you noticed that he had time for everyone else. The romance just wasn’t there. When you thought about your relationship after the break up, you were quick to realize that it was a more friendly situation then a relationship. 

And maybe, really maybe, your meeting with Lando confused you as well and made the breakup happen sooner. When you first saw Lando, he made you feel something that you never felt around your then-boyfriend. But that will no one ever know.

“But I do want to get back with you in a relationship,” your ex confesses, “I can make more time for you, I can figure out some cute nicknames and we can be together again.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” you carefully reply. Everything he just said, is nothing you want. You don’t want to spend more time with him, get his attention and certainly don’t want to be together again. 

“What do you mean?” Your ex asks you confused, “That’s what you wanted right? More attention, a more loving relationship?”

“Wanted yeah,” you tell him, “I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what do you want?” He asks you frustrated.

“I don’t know what I want,” you confess, “but I do know that it’s not you, sorry.” 

You tried to tell him so polite as you could, but apparently it made him still angry with you. Fuck. This really was a bad idea. You notice another text from Lando popping up on your screen. Should you text him back? You unlock your phone and read Lando his texts.

Lando Norris: I meant it. Text me if you need me.

Lando Norris: How are things going?

Lando Norris: Babygirl?

Lando Norris: Just tell me if you’re okay

Since when does Lando care this much about you? It makes you shiver, but not in a bad way. That’s not a good sign. You want to reply to his texts, but your ex is already snatching your attention away again. 

“Who are you texting?” He asks you annoyed. Before you can answer, he’s talking further. “Is it your new boyfriend?” He continues to ask. 

“New boyfriend?” You ask confused. Does he think you have a new boyfriend? Why would he even think that. 

“Yeah. Maybe it’s that Lando guy, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

The venomous tone in his voice reminds you about the other reason you broke up with him. The jealousy. It’s crazy now you think about it. On the on hand you were having the feeling that the two of you were barely friends, let alone lovers, but on the other hand your ex was always jealous. You remember multiple fights between the two of you, even one about Lando. You almost laugh if you think about telling your ex who you’re living with right now, but you don’t tell him. You don’t want to fight. 

“I don’t have a new boyfriend,” you tell your ex.

“Then why won’t you want to get back with me?” He asks you angrily. 

You don’t like the angry tone. He has no right to act like this. “I don’t like you like that anymore,” you tell him annoyed, “and I don’t even know if I ever did.” The last part of your sentence wasn’t smart, but you feel yourself getting mad as well. 

“Bitch,” you ex hisses angrily. 

For a few seconds you doubt about your next move should be. Are you going to get into an argument with your ex or are you leaving? His words make you mad, but you know it isn’t smart to get into an argument with him here. Maybe this is the moment to text Lando, he offered to help you right? Maybe he can pick you up? 

“I’m going to pay for my part and then I’m leaving,” you tell your ex eventually, “I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about left.” In the mean time you pull out your phone again, you open your chat with Lando and quickly type something. 

y/n: can u come get me? I’m at Amù

You press send, but you have no idea if the text is actually being send. The screen has turned black. Shit, you didn’t even know that your battery was low. What if the text didn’t send? With an annoyed sigh you get up from the table and walk towards the server so you can pay for your part. Then without looking back at your ex, you leave the place. In all irony it’s also starting to rain. What a shitty day. 

Within the second that Lando got your message, he’s in his car. The restaurant you’re at isn’t that far from his place thankfully. He tries to get to you as fast as he can manage. Breaking multiple traffic laws in the mean time. 

“Come on let me take you home,” your ex says angrily. He’s standing outside with you, much to your annoyance. You don’t want him to be here. It’s pouring rain in the mean time. You realize that you must look awful now. Your dress is sticking against your body, your make up is probably ruined. You can only hope that there isn’t anyone around who knows your name or brother. The Instagram posts are already formed in your head. 

“No,” you reply.

“So you’re going to stand here stupidly?” He continues to ask. 

“I’m getting picked up.” At least, you hope so. 

When Lando arrives at the street from the restaurant, he’s quick to spot you. You and your ex. He has never seen the guy before, but he can’t take his time to look at him. He quickly parks his car across the street and jogs to you. When he looks at you, he realizes that you are all soaked. Before he can say anything to you, your ex is talking at you. Lando didn’t expect that your ex would be still here as well.

Lando takes a good look at your ex. He never saw the guy before. It’s been a while since you dated him, but Lando is certain that he never met him. He knows that Max wasn’t a fan of the guy either. 

“See!” The guy says angrily. “Fucking slut,” he continues with a raised voice, “you’re already dating someone else. And even worse, it is him! You lied to me.”

“We’re not dating,” you sigh. 

“Yet,” Lando can’t withhold his remark. “And don’t call her that again.”

You send Lando an annoyed glance. Is he here to help you or to make things worse? Even though, you can’t stop the weird feeling in your stomach after he just said that. Why are his words having such an impact on you? And why is Lando talking about dating you? Could it be possible that he wants to date you? You’re getting confused by what’s happening.

“Are you going to deny that she is a slut?” Your ex asks Lando. 

“Come on babygirl, we’re leaving before I’m going to lose it,” Lando mutters annoyed. He already feels himself getting angry with the guy in front of him. He gives you his hand, which you thankfully grab and wants to take you with him to his car so you can get home. 

“So that’s why I couldn’t call you that,” your ex remarks, “your new boyfriend has dibs on that name.” 

“Not my boyfriend,” you state again. 

Lando almost adds another ‘yet’ again, but this time he holds himself back from doing it. 

“Oh just for the sex then?” Your ex asks, “That does seem more fitting for a slut like you.”

Before you can even say something back, you’re already busy with pulling back Lando. What is going on? Lando has let go of your hand, only to use it to form a fist which can hit your ex boyfriend in his face. Fuck, he did actually punch him. You’re quick to grab Lando his arm and to try to take him with you. 

“Let’s go Lando,” you mutter, “He isn’t worth it.”

“He called you a slut!” Lando almost screams. “Two fucking times.”

“I know,” you sigh, “Let’s leave please.”

Your ex is furious right now. He’s balding his fists as well and seems ready to take revenge on Lando for his earlier punch. When you see the fist of your ex coming at Lando his face, you don’t think about your next action. You quickly pull away Lando, which caused you to stand in front of the upcoming fist from your ex. When you feel it hit your cheek, you let out a gasp from the impact. It’s not a hard punch, but you’re still shocked. 

Lando reacts within seconds. He carefully looks at your cheek, making sure that the impact wasn’t big. Softly he pushes you to the side before he grabs your ex by his neck. “I swear to fucking god,” Lando says with a voice so low it almost sounds dangerous to you, “you better make sure that you’re never close to her again, because the next time I see you too close to her, I’ll fucking end you.” You wonder what he means with that. “I’ll make sure everyone knows what a pathetic loser you are,” Lando continues, “and that you’ll never have a chance with a girl, or with a job or with whatever ever again.” He lets your ex go and watches him quickly walk away. 

“Are you alright babygirl?” Lando asks you worried. He is quick to get you into his arms and to inspect your face again. It doesn’t look to bad thankfully. 

“I think so,” you softly tell Lando. 

“Let’s get you home,” Lando replies, “I have some ice there, hopefully it will stop the swelling.”

When you’re seated next to Lando in his expensive McLaren, you remember your horrible state. You must look like a mess. Your dress is soaked, your make up is running all over your face and even worse, you also feel like a mess. 

“It turns out you were right after all,” you sigh.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“Sorry that I dragged you into this,” you apologize towards Lando. 

“Rather be sorry that you ever dated someone like him,” Lando replies, “I’m pretty sure there’s someone better around for you.”

“Someone like?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Lando chuckles, “Someone who’s ready to punch another guy for you maybe.”

And again, Lando confused the hell out of you. 

a/n; thanks everyone so much for all the kind reactions so far 🫶🏻 love reading them 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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[alvojake]

when you call him your husband

「pairing」 : enha ot7 x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.1k

「synopsis」 : in which you call them your husband instead of your boyfriend...

「genre」 : fluff, established relationship, headcanon

「warnings」 : kissing, petnames (baby, love, princess...), just a lot of fluffiness

「notes」 : this is my compensation for the emotional damage that I may have caused some of you after posting the second part of tmh 😭 I hope y'all enjoy this cutesy scenario!!

Heeseung •°. *࿐

you had seen the trend of the girls calling their boyfriends their husbands for shits and giggles all over your for you page, and you knew you wanted to try it. already imagining what heeseung’s reaction would be and suddenly felt super giddy. so you ran and told your friends all about your idea, and they encouraged you, already knowing that your boyfriend would love it. you had everything planned, knowing that you would do it when you went out to lunch with him this weekend.

but then you saw the viral video of the guy who rudely cut his girlfriend off, telling her that he wasn’t her husband, and doubt started to cloud your mind. what if heeseung reacts the same way? or what if he just laughed at you because he thought it was stupid?

so when you told your friends that you weren’t going to do it anymore, they asked you why until you finally spilled the reason behind your hesitance. your best friend just shook her head with a small laugh.

“girl, that man is far too lovesick; there ain’t no way he’s gonna react like that.” she reassured you, and the other agreed with her rather quickly.

“yeah, and that guy in the video was just an asshole, you can tell.” another of your friends added in, causing you to laugh before saying that she was right.

nodding with a newfound confidence, you told them that you were going to do it, and they all cheered, causing you to laugh. your best friend then grabbed your attention once more with a reassuring smile.

“and if, for some very unlikely reason, he does act like that, my door is always open, and we can eat some ice cream.” she patted your hand, and you nodded again before telling her thank you.

when the day came around that you went to pick up heeseung, you kept telling yourself that everything was going to be okay. the two of you had already talked about just picking up food through the drive-thru and going to eat at the park, seeing as it was a nice day.

“hey baby.” heeseung greeted you as he opened the passenger door of your car, bending down to give you his cheeky smile, “are you sure you wanna drive? I’m more than happy to.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his offer, but you shook your head, “it’s okay, hee, you’re always driving; I got it this time.”

heeseung just chuckled before taking his seat in the passenger seat, situating it so his long legs could fit in front of him before turning towards you. he leaned over the middle console waiting for you to lean forward, which you did not too long after capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. pulling away, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at the wide grin that took your place on his lips.

“you ready?” you asked him, and he just hummed before sitting back in the seat, his hand going to your thigh.

it didn’t take too long before you made it to the restaurant; pulling into the drive thru you made a quick decision of what you wanted before going to the speaker. the worker greeted you, and you told them what you wanted before looking over at heeseung, who was still looking at the menu. 

“just get me whatever you got, baby,” he told you before sitting back and returning to the game he was playing on his phone. you shook your head, a smile tugging on your lips as you turned towards the speaker once more, ready to put your plan into action.

“then my husband wants the same thing,” you told the worker; however, heeseung had stopped playing his game to look over at you, a goofy grin adorning his face. after you made sure that your order was correct, you sat back in your seat to move forward, sparing him a quick glance, “what?” you tried your best to act clueless despite your heart racing under your ribcage. 

heeseung just sat there, silent, letting your words fully sink in, the smile never leaving his lips. however, his silence was starting to worry you even if he was wearing a humongous smile. you swallowed thickly as you paid for the food and took the drinks.

he waited until you finished handing him the food before taking your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “husband, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Jongseong •°. *࿐

you weren’t entirely sure why you were here, to begin with. your friends had begged and begged you to come to the stupid class reunion, saying that it would be a lot of fun to catch up with one another and that they could finally meet jay, the man that you had been dating for three years. reluctantly, you agreed and talked to jay about going. thankfully, he didn’t mind going as long as you were with him.

however, now you are starting to regret your decision to bring your boyfriend along with you. every single time that you turned your back, even if it was for just a split second, you would turn to see yet another female flirting with him. jay, of course, rejected their advances, pointing over to you, but they just couldn’t seem to catch a hint.

your friends were sure that you were bound to blow a fuse if you turned around to catch another girl trying to touch up on jay. so they grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to them, causing you to look at them with a raised eyebrow.

“girl, you look like you’re about to behead the next person that so much as looks in his direction.” one of them teased, but you nodded softly before saying that you just might at this point.

laughing nervously, your other friend grabs your wrist before placing something in the palm of your hand. confused, you look down only to become even more confused when you see that she has given you a ring.

“put this on and go tell them to leave your husband alone,” she instructed you, motioning to the ring.

so you did just that. handing her your drink, you slipped the ring onto your ring finger before turning and making your way back to jay, who was standing by the drink table, trying to ignore the four other women who had started to surround him.

“hey princess,” jay greeted you as you walked up to him, wrapped your arms around his, and placed a kiss on his cheek. sensing that you were up to something, jay just watched with an amused gleam in his eyes.

you looked over at the other women, who were either glaring at you or raising an eyebrow. offering them a fake sweet smile, you grabbed jay’s hand, making a show of the ring on your finger before tilting your head slightly.

“thank you, ladies, for keeping my husband company while I was away, but I got it from here,” you told them, sas lacing your tone. none of them gave you any backtalk and walked away, not trying to draw attention. jay bit back the smirk as he watched you tell the women off, loving when your jealousy seeped through.

once they were out of sight, jay pulled his arm from your grasp, causing you to look over at him, getting ready to ask him what was wrong. but he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he then took your left hand into his, looking at the ring that sat on your finger.

“hmm…” he hummed, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your palm, “why don’t we replace this with a real one?”

Jaeyun •°. *࿐

it had always been jake’s thing to go around calling you ‘wife’ or ‘wifey’. he would do it any chance he could because one, he loved seeing how flustered you would get, the tips of your ears turning cherry red. two because one day he planned on making you his wife, so why not just get used to saying it now. you, however, never really went around calling him anything more than your boyfriend or soulmate if you were feeling sentimental, but after he called you his wife in front of practically the whole restaurant for your anniversary, you planned on getting him back. so you waited until it was game night and all of his friends were over to make your move.

friday nights had become game night for your boyfriend and his friends. Of course, you were never excluded. jake was far too clingy to not have you involved, so you always found yourself either perched on the couch next to him or joining in on their countless rounds of games.

most of the time, you would always cook dinner for everyone. However, tonight, after a long week of exams and work, you didn't feel like cooking, so you just decided to order take-out. after running it by the guys and everyone agreeing, you stood to grab your phone that you had charging in the kitchen. grabbing the device, you couldn’t help the smirk that was tugging on your lips as you dialed the number.

whenever the restaurant answered, you started taking all of the guys’ orders, relaying them to the guy on the other side of the phone to make sure that he had heard correctly. after you got all of the guys’ orders, you moved over to your boyfriend, trying to conceal the shit-eating grin that was threatening to spread on your lips. 

“babe, did you want your usual?” you asked, standing next to the couch where he was sitting with a controller in his hands; he spared you a quick glance and said a quick ‘yes, please’ before going back to the game. “then my husband would like…” you spoke into the phone as you turned around to walk away, your lips curling inward to keep from giggling when you heard the sounds of the ‘game over’ screen.

“yeah, her hubby would like his usual.” heeseung started to tease the younger male, a smirk on his lips as jake’s face started to turn red. jake just waved him off before setting his controller off to the side so he could catch you before you got too far.

you barely got a chance to walk away before you were being pulled back, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips. jake wore a huge smile on his lips as he held you close even after you sent him a small glare. apologizing to the lady you finished up your order before hanging up and looking at jake.

“your husband?” his voice was slightly higher in pitch as if he was trying to keep from fangirling. you just smiled before kissing his cheek and trying to get up, but he wouldn’t let you. “I wanna hear you say it again.”

your face started to heat up as you felt the guys staring at the two of you, your plan completely backfiring, but the smile that adorned jake’s face was more than enough compensation for you.

Sunghoon •°. *࿐

you walked alongside sunghoon as you both made it to the ice rink. it was well into the winter time, but neither of you had had the time to go out and skate like you do every year, but as soon as both of your schedules had cleared you made it your mission to go. so now you had your fingers intertwined with his as he stuffed your combined hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“it feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” you sigh, basking in the cool night breeze while sunghoon looks over at you, admiring the way your eyelashes lay on your cheekbones that were a light shade of red due to the cold.

he pulls your hands out of his pocket before bringing them to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your fingertip, causing you to look up at him, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend much time together, my love.”

your heart swelled at his actions, causing a soft smile to spread on your lips; you then suddenly thought back to something that your co-worker had told you. she had watched quite a few videos of girls calling their boyfriends ‘husband,’ and she thought that their reactions were the sweetest thing in the world. then she asked you if you had ever called sunghoon, your husband, just to see his reaction, and you told her no, but then the thought of what his reaction might be started to haunt your mind. you wanted to know what his reaction would be but were a little worried that he wouldn’t quite catch it.

looking around, you noticed that there weren’t very many people here tonight, “it doesn’t look too busy.” you observed as you walked over to the skate counter, and sunghoon nodded before looking around the rink himself.

“hi, what size skates for you guys tonight?” the girl on the other side of the counter asked, a sweet smile adorning her lips. You returned it before telling her your shoe size, then looking over at sunghoon, who was still looking around, seeming to have gotten lost in his own world.

swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to try the little ‘prank’ out, so you returned your gaze to the worker who was waiting patiently.

“and my husband is gonna need a size…” you told what size sunghoon had needed and the boy's head instantly turned towards you confused about whether or not he had just heard you correctly. his hand squeezing yours enough to gain your attention.

“what did you say?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, causing you to bite your tongue so you don’t lose composure.

“I just told her your shoe size.” you feigned confusion, copying his gesture.

however, sunghoon quickly shook his head, “no, no, not that, before that.” but before you could answer him, the worker came back with your skates, so you thanked her, handing sunghoon his before grabbing your own.

walking over to a bench, you went to sit down, but sunghoon stopped you, “you would want to marry me?” the genuine shock in his tone made your heart drop; had he really thought that you wouldn’t want to marry him?

you released his hand and sat your skates down before reaching up to cup his face in your hands. without another word, you pulled him down, kissing him softly. his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you closer to him just as you pulled away, your forehead resting against his.

“of course, I’d wanna marry you; don’t be so silly.” you smiled softly at him before kissing him once more, then pulled away to put your skates on, “now come on, let’s go skate.”

Sunoo •°. *࿐

it was friday and that meant that you were going to be doing your weekly review of the make-up products that you had used throughout the week. however, this week was going to be a little different; you were going to be doing sunoo’s make-up as a milestone reward for your followers. you had spent quite a bit of time on tiktok and just happened to see the videos where all of the girls were calling their boyfriend’s ‘husband’ and recording their reaction. they all made you giggle, and you just knew you had to try it on sunoo, and this just seemed to be the perfect time for it.

you were in the middle of setting up the camera for the video when there was a knock at the door before sunoo peeked his head through the crack, “hey love, I brought some fruit.” you couldn’t help but smile seeing the small bowl of fruit that was in his hand.

“thank you, sun,” you motioned for him to join you on the ground in front of the camera, “come sit. I’m almost done setting up.” 

sunoo happily made his way over to you and sat down, his legs crossed underneath him, and handed you the bowl. his hand then found your knee as you sat the fruit down on the table in front of you before grabbing a blueberry and popping it into your mouth.

“are you ready?” you asked him, and he nodded with a bright smile on his face. you had to fight back the huge grin that was threatening to pull on your lips as you reached forward to turn the camera on.

sitting back down on your knees, you smiled at the camera, “hello everyone! as mentioned on my twitter, I am going to be doing my husband’s makeup.”

a look of shock morphed on sunoo’s face as he looked away from the camera lens to look at you, “husband?” he exclaimed, causing you to jump slightly and look over at him, trying your best to not smile.

“what?” you asked, holding back a giggle when he looked from you to the camera lens before pointing to himself.

“are you talking about me?” he asked with a cheeky smile on his face causing you to giggle.

“yes who else would I be talking about?” your cheeks had started to hurt from smiling so hard as he looked at you in pure astonishment.

“you,” sunoo pointed at you before pointing down to his hand, “marry me?”

“yes,” you laughed, glancing over to the camera once more before letting your eyes fall back on him, “that’s what makes you my husband.”

sunoo looked at you for a second before holding his left hand out to you, “I do,” he looked around the room, “I just wish the scenery was a little bit better, but I do.” you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at the sassiness in his tone before reaching over to your vanity to grab a ring.

sitting back down, you held your hand out for him, and sunoo happily placed his hand into yours, allowing you to slip the ring on his ring finger. you then placed a kiss on his knuckles before looking up to capture the bright, sassy smile that played on his lips.

you couldn’t help but laugh as he grabbed your hand to pull you closer, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. "don’t worry, my love. I’ll get you one as well,” he whispered sweetly, relishing in the blush that dusked your cheeks as you continued your recording.

Jungwon •°. *࿐

whenever you had gotten a message from your best friend telling you about a trend that she had seen floating around, you knew that it would be the perfect prank to pull on jungwon. you knew that it could end one of two ways, either he would get shy and just cling himself onto you for the rest of the night, or he would get smug and start teasing you relentlessly. though you would be fine with either of those outcomes, you hoped that he would opt for the first.

you and your friend hadn’t talked in a long time, so you decided to call each other over the weekend. you decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to pull the prank, seeing as she has yet to meet your boyfriend.

so when the weekend rolled around, you told her to call during the time that you knew jungwon would be on his way home from the gym. you sat down at the dining table talking to her, catching each other up on your current life events before you heard the front door opening.

“is that him?” your friend asked, muffling her giggles when you placed your finger over your lips, but you nodded nonetheless. jungwon walked into the kitchen with a smile spreading on his face when he saw you sitting at the table, his dimples on display.

“hey baby, how was the gym?” you asked him, a small smile adorning your lips as he sat his water bottle down on the counter before walking over to you.

“it was good,” he leaned down, kissing the top of your head before glancing at your phone screen. "what are you up to?”

you moved your phone up enough for him to see your friend, who waved at him, “remember I was calling my friend this weekend?” he nodded, standing behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“who’s this?” your friend asked in mock curiosity as she bit the inside of her cheek, and you had to bite back a smirk of your own.

you looked up at jungwon for a moment before going back to your phone, “this is jungwon, my husband.”

jungwon’s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at you, but you just continued your conversation as if it were a normal day. he had been fully prepared for you to say boyfriend, but he definitely wasn’t prepared for the word ‘husband’ to leave your lips.

you couldn’t help the silly smile that pulled on your lips when jungwon wrapped his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you could tell he was flustered by how warm his cheek was against your skin. 

“I’m your husband?” his voice came out in a hushed tone against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, but you just hummed, leaning further into him before reaching up to run your fingers through his slightly damp hair as you continued your conversation with your friend while he clung to you.

Ni-ki •°. *࿐

it was saturday night, and you were spinning around in your gaming chair, waiting for riki to send you a message letting you know that he was ready to hop on. you had made a plan to livestream a new game with riki for all of your subscribers to watch because that had practically begged you to make another video with your boyfriend. you were almost sure that your subscribers liked him more than you.

just as you were getting ready to grab your phone to message him first, his name popped up on your screen, causing a wide smile to erupt on your face. quickly opening your phone, you went to your and riki’s chat, seeing that he had said he was ready to go with a little sunglasses emoji. laughing softly, you moved closer to your desk and grabbed your headset before calling riki.

it didn’t even finish ringing for the second time when riki picked up, “hey baby.” his voice flowed through your headset, causing a smile to pull your lips even wider.

you greeted him before pulling up the game and making sure everything for the live stream was ready, “ready to go?” you asked him, and you could hear him hum from the other side. taking that as a green light, you started the stream.

after quickly doing your intro, you waited for more people to join the stream before starting the game. a laugh fell from your lips as you read the comments asking if riki was still going live with you. 

“don’t worry, guys. riki is joining us today. he’s actually here right now.” you clicked a few buttons before letting riki pop up on the screen next to you.

then came the influx of comments about how cute he was and how he played games so well, or there were the occasional few comments about how cute the two of you were. smiling, you answered a few questions. unbeknownst to you, riki was watching you through the screen, missing the comment that popped up about someone claiming him as their ‘husband’. rolling your eyes playfully, you situated yourself in your seat before speaking.

“he’s my husband, actually.” your tone was playful, but your words had completely caught the boy off guard.

riki could feel his ears burning red as he tried his best to remain stoic as he watched you move to start the game. his eyes flickered over to the comments, seeing a few about how they would fight you for his attention, and he could tell that they were starting to annoy you, so he tried to push what you had said to the side 

“let’s start the game, ya?” he cleared his throat before letting his eyes flicker over to you, and you nodded, getting ready to hit the start button as soon as riki was in the lobby. however, riki had completely missed the small smirk that was pulling on the corner of your lip, wanting nothing more than to tease him, knowing that you had made him slightly flustered.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[girlokwhatever]

I would LOVE a makeout sesh with Kate! either hcs or a little smut fic either works 🤪

kate martin x fem!reader making out hcs

✧˖°༉‧₊˚.☁︎𐦍༘⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ kate martin making out with her gf,,

— there is no such thing as space when you and kate are making out

- she holds you so close it’s actually insane

— she’s so whiny and needy for you

— hands are gripping your thighs, kneading them and keeping them pressed against her body

— lowkey kinda sloppy but she can’t help it

- like she’s so obsessed with you

— loves to french kiss the hell out of you

- constant battle for dominance

— will make out with you absolutely anywhere in your apartment

— she’s so out of breath but she’s not a quitter

— if you pull away she’s immediately kissing somewhere else

- neck, jaw, shoulder, collarbone you name it

- will give you an insane amount of hickeys on accident

— the make out sessions start as soon as you put on her favorite chapstick

— can never make out in one position for too long

- will go from sitting down to flipping you on your back

— ESPECIALLY LOVESSS when you straddle her during make outs

- will help you grind on her lowkey

— it always starts out fast and passionate but ends up so slow and languid cause yall have been at it for so long LOL

— refuses to answer the phone during a make out sesh

- “kate, your phone is ringing”

- “it’s fine, just c’mere.”

— if her hands aren’t on your thighs they’re probably up your shirt ngl

— it’s her fav pre-game pastime!!

— will literally beg to take your clothes off cause she just wants to be close

— likes when you tug on her hair

- especially if it’s in a ponytail

— she literally wants to make out at least once a day

- “no kate, i just finished my makeup.”

- “please?”

- “…fine.”

— sometimes she does ask but most of the time is just happens naturally

— loves loves loves her early morning make out sessions with you

— makes jokes about how easily she takes your breath away

- literally only because she won’t let you pull away

— walking around with your lipstick all over her mouth afterwards 🤭

— will start off by giving you little pecks or kissing your neck to get your attention

— sometimes gets your foundation on her nose too LOL

— it’s like tradition now honestly

— “babe, wear that strawberry chapstick today, it’s my favorite.”

- “i thought the lemon was your favorite?”

- “i just said that so you’d kiss me.”

✧˖°༉‧₊˚.☁︎𐦍༘🪐⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

kate and reader are my fav cutie pies tbh

[thegoldencontracts]

Bodyswap With The Dormheads

I can't help but imagine the Prefect swapping bodies with the other dormheads...

Riddle, who is definitely struggling without his magic, and constantly trying to behead Grim. Meanwhile you'll definitely behead Ace at some point, maybe levy your power to try to make Crowley do his job for once.

Leona's suddenly stuck being poor and dependent on the headmage. Not a fun experience, to say the least. He'll come out of it with a newfound respect for you. And you'll get food! And Ruggie... Who's definitely gonna clock something's off.

Azul can't sigma male grind his way out of this one, I'm afraid. Back in that helpless position he was in before, only now it seems like he can't work his way out. It'll definitely be miserable, and he'll have quite a few spats with Grim. And you? Well, you'll get clocked by the Leech twins before you know it, I'm afraid.

Kalim flounders completely. He's kind, and wise in some ways, yes, but his circumstances mean he's never learned a lot of basic tasks. So having to take care of both himself and Grim in this unfamiliar place... well, it's pretty hard. He probably almost burned the dorm at some point. Meanwhile, you get more food, and Jamil's ire. There's a pretty good chance Jamil clocks you, but he also might just not care so long as nothing happens that he has to take the blame for. Afterwards, Kalim will definitely offer more in renovations, like he did after VDC.

Vil is appalled by the state of your dorm. He doesn't blame you, of course, you can't help the fact that the headmage is too incompetent to properly care for his students. Afterwards, expect him to try and help you with skincare and renovations more. He always wants to help people be their most beautiful, does he not? And you? Well... You'll quickly be met with the brunt of his self-imposed workload.

Idia's social battery is completely drained. He can't use his tablet anymore? And what's with all these normies? Why are they making fun of you for not having magic? And not to mention the terrible state of your dorm... Hey, at least he gets a cute kitty-cat to hang out with as consolation. And you, well, you appreciate the break from being bullied. Even if Ortho probably clocks you in an instant.

Malleus is rather shocked by your poor living conditions. How could you be treated so poorly? Are you not a student of this school? He really is rather confused. Your friends are rather fascinating though... Along with that little cat - no, monster of yours. And you get a powerful fae body, yay! But everyone fears you. Hey, is it really that much worse than dealing with mockery?

[mcondance]

bubble pop electric ｡𖦹° spencer reid

18+ backseat sex duhhhh, afab!reader but no terms like ‘girl,’ just female anatomy, spencer’s fingers make an appearance again wowww, reader is in his lap, 1 direct hozier quote sue me, i’m still working on my writing style which isn’t important i just wanted to note that. you can listen to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani if you wanna feel the vibes, a bit unfinished i guess but i didn’t know where else to take it

tonight i’m gonna give you all my love in the backseat

the shuffling of clothes is almost the loudest thing in the car, only beat out by you and spencer’s heavy breathing and pounding hearts.

your whines and moans slip straight into his mouth— the two of you seem to have forgotten what it even means to separate from the other. you give him perfect notes like he’s playing you from the inside out. your kisses are all sloppy, unfocused and focused at the same time, spit-swapping between the two of you, his groans vibrating in his chest and into your mouth.

he curls his fingers up to kiss that spot inside you so deliberately your mind blanks, and you’re conflicted on what to focus on. his lips, or his fingers, or his sounds, or all of it at once.

yeah, all of it at once sounds great.

“you’re so pretty,” he confesses after one kiss and before another. he pauses for a second, to look. you’re so beautiful above him. the white light of the street lamps shines in through the car windows and illuminates your skin. you glow obscenely beautifully, so beautiful his brown eyes get glossy in awe.

he kisses you again, and you kiss him back like you’re begging for it. you’re always begging for it, always wanting to be wrapped up in his lips and sliding your tongue against his all messy.

you think you know insanity, that you’re as fucked as you can be right now, but that’s until through one loud pass and another you pick up the sound of the slipping and sliding of his fingers. your cunt sings out into the car and he breaks the kiss to shoot his eyes down between your legs, watching wide-eyed the lewd display you two have created.

how lewd it is.

he breathes raggedly, all keyed up. he can feel his blood boiling hot with how turned on he is.

it doesn’t take long for him to slip his fingers out of you and for the both of you to fumble with your buttons and clothes and zippers.

spencer’s nothing if not disgusting— he can’t help but rub his cock through your wetness, pupils dilating even bigger as he watches you cover him in sticky slick. its heavenly and horribly filthy all at the same time, how he taps it against your clit, softly, huffing out a laugh when you jump a little above him. the whine that leaks out of your throat at met with a hum of his own, a little sound of admiration.

spencer laughs when he sinks in. your whine is so melodic he finally tears his eyes from your cunt to your face, and god, he’s so fucking glad he did. your eyebrows are turned down, nose scrunched and lips pressed together. your eyes, hazy as they lock with his.

looking up at you is how he wants to fuck you always (at least, until he fucks you another way, it always changes). his hands find your waist and they dig in a little, slowly guiding you on his cock.

fuck.

a groan from spencer’s slack lips is what breaks the hanging silence in the car. the hypnosis that grips you both is shattered and his honest sound makes the heart between your legs pound and jump and you bring hips down on him just a little harder.

“oh my god,” he moans into your chest, his cheek rubbing against your shirt. “shit.” he’s rarely ever reduced to expletives to express himself, but when his hands are digging into your waist and you’re grinding on his lap like sin, he can’t find anything else to say.

you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him, desperately, closer. lines have faded and been crossed and fucking in the backseat of a car shouldn’t feel this soft, but it does. your soft whines and moans and his earnest groans smooth out the rough edges of the circumstance, and leave sweetness in their wake. but its still lewd. it’s still sensual. he’s still fucking up into you, the sound of you two rubbing against each other still swirls in the car, he’s still cursing against your chest.

exhilaration flows through you. you and spencer never take anything too serious, especially with each other, and to be pulled over in his backseat, fogging up the windows and probably making the car shake, is what you and spencer do. it’s on-brand; of course you’d get so turned on you’d have no choice but to take it to the backseat.

it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened, though. and it’ll happen again.

[ghouljams]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4_yhJhMW9i/?igsh=MXd5YmszMDhidTJ5dA==

This is soo cowboy price. I bet his hands are the most rugged hands Duck has ever felt.

Ooooh I know that guy, he's putting dog paw pad medicine on his hands to make them rougher. It's supposed to help puppies with delicate toes, but I guess if you want sand paper hands that works too.

You know I will never resist an opportunity to talk about Price's hands...

John's hands have always had callouses. As long as you've known the man you've felt the uneven, rough, planes of his hands as they skated over your skin. You've seen the way he picks at the sturdy skin at the base of his fingers, the way he digs his thumb into his palm to rub at the scarred skin. You've felt the ebb and flow of calloused fingers, softening when he's home, only to be rougher when he comes back from deployment. When he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, the drag of it sparks a different tingling heat than anyone else could.

Working on a farm certainly hasn't softened the man's hands. Rope burn, chicken scratches, nips from the goats, tossing hay, checking equipment, pulling weeds. Your man's hands are rough. Blisters dotted the space between his callouses the first summer you took him to the farm, and even now you find angry red marks inside John's thumb. His knuckles split in the winter because he refuses to wear gloves, and you every so carefully swipe vaseline and lotion over the angry skin. You get the feeling sometimes that he does this on purpose just so you'll doctor him.

You love those rough hands though. You love the slight yellow at his finger tips from his cigar habit, you love that uneven scars and callouses, you love the way his thick fingers always spread wide to squeeze whatever soft flesh he's landed on. You love that he touches you so delicately, that his fingers press to your lips as soft as rose petals and only enter when you open your mouth to let them slide over your tongue. You love that he murmurs to you, presses his lips to your cheek even as his fingers thrust in and out of your mouth. You love that you know you're only slicking them for him, know that he'll catch the drool that dribbles over your chin in his calloused palm and smear it against your cheek where he'd kissed you.

Really you don't see why you'd want a softer hand to hold. John's hand squeezes your breast and you arch into the feeling, enjoy the way the rough edges of his palm drag over your nipple, the way his spit slicked fingers circle the hardening bud and pinch. It's not for any sort of masochistic fascination that you love it, but for the pure simple reason that they're his hands. You can name the scars on them, count the callouses and blisters you've treated. So you know that when his beard scratches against your cheek and his lips touch your ear, you'll fold to those work worn hands every time.

"Lemme take care of you momma," He rumbles, voice rough and so very promising. He asks as if you'd ever say no to him. As if the part of your legs isn't a forgone conclusion despite the way he situates himself between your knees. His fingers glide over your skin, perfectly delicate when he wants to be, and find their way to spreading your slick folds.

You know he likes being gentle with you, likes knowing you still bend as easily as you did when he first met you. The rugged slide of his fingers against sensitive skin makes you shiver. He draws them up your slit, pushes them back down, firm slow strokes as you pant against his ear. He kisses your temple, coaxes you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Each stroke of his fingers burns through your blood, your skin on fire for him. Every place he touches is a match strike against red phosphorus, lighting up with a blaze you'd never want to contain.

You're always so wet for him. So soft and warm, he can't help wanting to be a little rough with you, but moments like this, with your lovely voice so soft and imploring in his ear, he can't help feeling a little indulgent. You reap the rewards of that indulgence. Your hips twitch to follow the stroke of his fingers, angle so that he flicks the tip of his finger against your clit, and he lets you. He follows your guiding whines, presses his finger in teasing dips against your hole, collects slick to ease the glide of his fingers against your clit, and whispers praise with twist of your hands.

Calloused hands are your absolute favorite when their fingers are sliding into you. Each inch slipping against your walls, stroking and prodding at your softness, lets you feel the roughness of his fingers. You grind your clit against the heel of his hand, and he pushes it against you firmly. You swallow down the pleasure that bubbles in your chest, blink the stars from your eyes, the needy whines from your throat. John's fingers thrust into you hard, the sudden switch from his gentle exploratory strokes to the quick targeted thrusts forcing out a surprised moan. You dig your fingers into his back, pull vicious red marks with your blunt nails to hear the shaky breath he takes.

Roughness for roughness, aggression for aggression, his fingers move against you, thrust hard and fast into you until you're moaning and panting. The burn of friction, the targeted attack on your sweet spot, when his thumb finds your clit you whimper. John's fingers pull back, circle your clit and spread your slick over your skin, working at the bundle of nerves until your legs are starting to shake. Your stomach feels like it's been turned to boil, something molten burning outward through you. John thrusts into your cunt again, slow teasing strokes that leave you desperate for more until he pulls them out and returns to your clit.

He works you up only to ease you back down, bringing you to the edge again and again. He seems to count the seconds it takes to make you shake, timing them so he can gauge where you are at any moment. You reach to grab for his hand and he snatches your wrist, strong calloused hands pinning yours to the mattress. Your hips buck, twist to try and get more. John hooks a leg over one of yours and holds you firmly in place. You know well that gentle doesn't mean he isn't in complete control of you, or that he won't make you beg for what you want.

You had more shame in begging when you started dating, now it comes as second nature. "Please John," You drag your lips against his cheek, one arm still locked tight around his shoulders to keep him close, "let me come on your fingers, please."

"Know the magic words momma." You can feel the curve of his smile, know you have one to match as you run your tongue through his beard.

"Please Captain." You murmur. His swallow is audible, the heavy pinch of his brow at his title on your lips. His fingers twist inside you, thrust quick and shallow to hit your sweet spot every time. Tight, tight, tight, your stomach coils and coils until you're begging your body to let go. You know it won't, not unless he gives the word.

"Come on baby," John orders, "on my fingers, just like you wanted."

Everything uncoils, the tension snapping as your muscles arch your back, your legs shaking and your vision starry. Pleasure courses through you, you feel it drip out of you and know you've soaked his fingers. You do your best trying to catch your breath as his slick fingers tug at his belt.

Take care of you, he says, but what he means is "let me ruin the bed spread".

[agentmarcuspike]

dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!” 

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.” 

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

taglist:

@hellfire-state-of-mind @janaispunk @joelscruff @takochansugoi @paanchusblog

@pastelpinkflowerlife @mountainsandmayhem @inept-the-magnificent @bitccchmood @sullyselena

@akjnoris @teanbean521 @joelalorian @lucifurrr @theetherealbloom

@lightdragonrayne @skbeaumont @itsjoelver @fhatbhabiee @peachesandcreams-world

@clownd1ck @alwayscairo @halfpastgrace @clarysthing @mellymbee

@seasonaldelusion @scenaaario @punkshort @frogturtlejr @kt86

@sweetperfectioncloud @hannahkatharine @fandomoniumflurry @emisreadingstuff @knopes-waffles

@your-teeth-glow-in-the-dark @rsquared31 @r3dheadedwitch @alejaa-a @myhappyplaceofstuff

@yodasgreenthumb @dovedewdrop @saradika @clawdee @harrisonispunk

@lostfleurs @always-andromeda @amanitacowboy

[asterias-horny-corner]

18+ content. Minors dni.

Jiyan headcanons.

Jiyan has a average cock, about 5.5 inches long. When he gets hard, it grows to about 7.76 inches. He has been curcumcised, and his base is well trimed. Probably has uneven balls, it gets really hard to keep himself packed in there.

He’s relatively quiet in bed, but when he does moan/whine/growl, it’s breathy n deep and you can feel him grow a little bit before returning to its usual erect size.

He likes clit and nipple play a lot. Enjoys feeling something soft and delicate and knowing that someone has trusted HIM with their body.

Idk why, but I just KNOW he wants kids. He won’t have them though, since he’s not exactly suited to be a father n he already stresses himself out about leaving his lover behind. He doesn’t want to leave his kids behind too. And besides, he knows that he’s not guaranteed to live in the battlefield, even if he is a resonater.

He would love to knock his lover up, but realistically, he’s not going to be able to. He doesn’t have the time for it. And while he fantasizes about having yet another reason to fight and protect, he’s not gonna be going through with the fantasy. Pull out game is incredible.

That said, there’s nothing compared to the release he feels seeing his lover gasping and panting while struggling to keep his seed inside their greedy hole. He likes watching them and listening to them after sex. Because he likes to cum inside, unless his dear is desperate for a period/cycle reset, the plan ‘B’ pill IS the plan A pill. Condoms? Never heard of ‘em. He’s only loyal to his little sweetheart anyway.

He’s always aware of what his lover’s cycle is like. You’re always gonna find a Pecok flower or a couple of gemberries from the front line in a letter from him whenever you’re close or on your period.

He’d absolutely love to send you exquisite chocolates and a bouquet of extravagant flowers, but this man is busy. And besides, his hand-picked flower is more than enough.

He’ll usually include a little bit of advice for you, whether it be on how to make up with a friend, reminding you of how to make his favorite childhood dish, or what supplements and herbs you should take to help ease your cramping symptoms and improve energy levels during your period. He used to be a military doctor, so he has knowledge of how to keep his love healthy ❤️

If he’s lucky enough to be able to take a couple of days off (which is very rare, the Tacet Discords are relentless and he doesn’t really trust anyone else to lead his army well, unfortunately,) he will be pampering and doing everything for you.

You are his best friend and the #1 reason why he keeps himself from getting too hurt. So he’s gonna spoil you, whether it’s getting a goddamn plate from the cupboard or letting you top him. Either way, you’re 100% going to have him following you around like a puppy.

His favorite sex position is missionary. He likes the feeling of your hands scratching at his back and feeling your legs wrapping around him. He also enjoys seeing your face, flushed and trembling with sweat and hickeys painting your perfect skin.

He tries very hard not to be greedy. He really does. Silently watching you through half-lidden golden touched eyes, he’ll always look away from you whenever you’re doing something particularly important and yet arousing. More often than not, though, he keeps himself restrained when you’re visiting.

And whenever you do visit the front lines, he’ll have you escorted to and from the site- resonator or not. You usually like to bring a little something for him, and even if you’re the worst cook in the world, he’ll always eat it. Especially since military rations are bland and dry or bitter and hard. Resources are scarce and jinzhou’s supply chains are limited.

But sometimes, Jiyan can’t help himself. He’ll pull you into his office, sit you on his desk, and let himself be greedy. He gives so much for the people of Jinzhou, he deserves to piston in and out of your gummy walls while you’re a whimpering, whining mess.

Yes, everyone can hear you specifically. They’re completely aware that their general’s currently working on his little sweetheart, and they’re going to ignore it to the best of their abilities. People will leave the office’s vicinity to keep themselves from earning a scolding from their general later.

Your noises are meant for him. Your sweet moans are his favorite song, and if anyone else is listening to what belongs to him, he tends to be in a bad mood when you’re on your way home. But he won’t do anything worse than scold his peers on listening in to his “private life” and take it out on Tacet Discords.

All in all, he wants a romantic relationship and someone to hold and love. But the both of you have to sacrifice a lot to keep Huanglong safe.

[fefern]

Hiii I saw ur Scar hcs, and the TD Hybird part really piqued My interest. If Reader (gender-neutral), agreed to it, how would Scar react to it! And also Maybe, if it’s painful (because it probably is, considering it’s like shoving a whole New Lifeforce into your body) would He feel sorry for Reader? (I would feel sorry for myself if it Hurt 💀)

✧˖° scar's reaction to you agreeing to merge with a tacet discord. | scar headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: after some thought, you agreed to merge a tacet discord with your body just like your lover scar has kept asking you to do! how does he react, and what's the process like?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: scar, gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none! no serious details of the transformation process, but if it's too much let me know and i'll change the warnings!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi hi pretty anon!! thank you for sending this wonderful ask in!! had me wondering for a long while how exactly scar shoved that whole other being into himself LOL!! (~ ~)" hope you enjoy this! requests are open as always! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

when you first come to him with the idea, he’ll blink once. then twice. then a third time.

did he hear you right?

he’d at first be shocked that you’d agree

he’s used to asking many people to join the organization and insert a tacet discord into themselves just to be met with rejection time and time again. it's a normal part of his job.

but for you to agree? and it being his lover nonetheless!

scar is over the moon, so happy that you’re aligning with his ideals! he knew you’d come around!

he’d immediately begin talking energetically to you about the side effects that he experiences, and what it’s like being able to transform and merge your body with a whole new life form. 

it takes a lot of preparation for you two to be ready for this event, and when you’re all set up and ready to go, he’s the one that flicks the switch to begin the transformation. 

sparks fly, and a bright white light appears in an instant, almost like lighting. 

and he knows it’s a part of a process, and he knows what it’s like to be in there.

heck, he’s kind of got a manic happy expression seeing how successful the process of putting the tacet discord into you is going.

but can’t help how a small part of him feels his heart drop as he hears you scream, hears the way you’re in pain, sees the way that you’re in tears because of how painful it is.

watching you, his lover, get ripped apart in real time, and then getting pieced back together, hurts a part of him he didn’t expect to feel.

he almost wants to turn it off, to go back, but that in itself is risky. if he stops it  now, he’ll be threatening you with being seriously injured or worse, dead.

so he lets the process finish, basking in your glory and shoving down his worries before it finishes with a halt. 

some smoke appears, but when it settles, there you are.

you most likely have some new scars now or other physical changes due to the process, but he still finds you just as beautiful as you were before. 

he’ll quickly rush to your side and for the next week or so, he’s stuck to your side. his eyes are always on you, and he’s essentially nursing you back to health. 

you will be doted on to the fullest extent, and he’s suddenly the best house husband in the world.

he keeps telling you during this time how excited he is for you, how much of a stronger duo you two will be together, and how he’ll train you to be the best of the best just like he is.

but on the first night that he’s taking care of you, he’ll have his back towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed as you lay down. his tone gets softer, a little out of character for how usually smooth and charismatic he can be. after some silence, he breaks it.

“thank you for doing this for me. for a while, it felt as if this side of me was something i couldn't explain to you, but now, you truly are able to understand me for who i am. i will guide you through this new journey, and i will love you with all i can.”

probably also kisses the back of your hand after he says this KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING-

[celtic-crossbow]

So Hear My Voice Remind You Not to Bleed

Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Injuries; angst

Summary: You're injured and benched, unable to go with Daryl on runs. When someone else is brought in to take your place, it does not go well.

A/N: for @darylsgarden. I had mixed feelings about this and had a couple of wonderful friends ( thank you @shadowcitrine and @enlightndone!🩵) read it and help me out. I hope it's at least close to what you were looking for 🩵

“It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Uh huh.” Daryl stopped preparing his bag and stepped across the living room, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. “Then walk over here without limpin’.” You narrowed your eyes and pushed yourself up off the couch, setting your jaw. 

You didn’t even make it a single step before falling forward with a choked off shout. 

And, of course, he was there to catch you as you crumbled. 

“Thought so.” He said with a hint of a smirk, depositing you back onto the couch. “Doc said ya gotta stay off’a it a couple’a weeks an’ that’s whatcha gonna do.” You whined and flopped around like a fish out of water. “Stop.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Got paired up with someone who just got here ‘til ya get better.”

You stilled, brow creasing. “You got a new partner. Who said? Rick?”

Daryl continued to shoulder his bag, then his crossbow. “Deanna.” Why would Deanna step in? “Said she needs to see what the woman can do to help. She’s s’posed to be good with a bow but I dunno.”

Woman? Bow? You already didn’t like this suggestion. “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. You didn’t want him to go before when you thought he was going out alone. Now that you knew he was going with a strange woman, you really didn’t want him to go. But why? Daryl was your best friend. You didn’t have any say in his comings and goings, and why should you? 

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, Daryl watching you with a flat expression. 

“Guess that’s her. See ya.” He started toward the door, and you found yourself leaning nearly off the couch to see who was on the other side. When he opened it, your breath caught. 

Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bow and quiver somehow anchored to her back. She was almost as tall as Daryl, lean and curvy in all the right places. Shit. She was gorgeous. 

“Uh, bye.” You muttered. Daryl didn’t even regard you. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was too busy ogling the beautiful woman in front of him. You couldn’t tell from his position. What you could see was the woman giving your run partner an appreciative once over before smiling. 

“Hey! You must be Daryl. I’m Angie.” She held out a hand, which the archer ignored with a grunt, pushing his way past her to walk to his bike. He was taking the bike? You sighed. You weren’t supposed to care. Daryl was your friend. Not your—he was your friend. 

And you just kept telling yourself that. 

Even a week later, when you were able to be up and about but not without difficulty, things felt—different. Daryl was always gone with Angie, like he was at that very moment. Now that you could actually move, you went about slowly cleaning up the house the two of you shared and started making something for dinner. You could leave Daryl’s in the oven for him to eat later. 

You had just finished your own when you heard the roar of the bike, saw the headlights illuminate the walls inside the dining room window, sending the shadows scattering. You found yourself excited to see him, to show him you were mobile. Hobbling over to the window, you felt silly for the ridiculous smile splitting your face but you didn’t feel that way for long. 

Angie was standing in front of Daryl at the bike, her bow in her hand at her side. He had already unlatched his crossbow from the back of the bike and had it across his back. She was smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and small creases next to her bright blue eyes, looking every bit like a model in the middle of the apocalypse. And Daryl—his lips were turned up on one side, a very Daryl smile that he gave when he was relaxed and in a good mood. 

You had known the man since the quarry and it had taken months to earn that smile. Angie was getting it in less than a week? 

You should have turned away. Spying on them wasn’t right. Daryl wouldn’t be pleased if he caught you, no matter what he was doing. He never liked feeling as though he was being watched too closely. 

You should have turned away but you didn’t. 

And then you wished you had. 

Angie reached out as she spoke, her words muffled and distorted through the glass. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and squeezed, her thumb stroking the skin there. Daryl glanced at her hand but that was it. He didn’t ask her to remove it, didn’t step back to increase the distance between them. 

You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous. Even as your mind and heart both screamed only I can touch him that way—for two entirely different reasons—you refused to grant it a name. 

You couldn’t take anymore, limped away from the window and climbed the stairs with more than a few whimpers of pain. Daryl would usually help you to your room at night and back down in the mornings. But you didn’t want to see him, felt an anger toward him that was just as confusing as it was unjustified. You felt the same anger toward Angie, a woman you knew nothing about beyond the things Daryl would tell you. 

And he didn’t tell you a lot. 

You still should have been happy that Daryl both wanted to share something with you and that he had found someone that seemed to make him happy enough to gab about them, limited as it was. 

But you weren’t happy. 

It hurt. You hurt. Your heart felt constricted, wrapped in a cord that would tighten with each breath, faster and faster with each moment you spent thinking of him just outside, smiling at her. 

She didn’t deserve his smile. 

She hadn’t been there when Merle was left behind in Atlanta. She hadn’t been there when Sophia went missing and Daryl ran himself ragged trying to find her. She wasn’t the one to care for him after he’d fallen and was shot. She hadn’t been the one whose arms he’d finally chosen to let hold him when Merle died. She hadn’t run to him and felt his relief at being reunited after Terminus. She hadn’t walked along with him and coaxed him to drink just enough water to stay alive on the road. And she damn sure hadn’t stood up and told everyone he needed his own place in Alexandria so he wouldn’t feel more trapped than the gates already made him feel. 

That had been you. Always you. 

The door opened and closed downstairs, your name being called. You could hear the concern, knew it would be there at not finding you downstairs. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed—your back to the door—and just listened. Daryl methodically looked around, his voice carrying from different rooms throughout his search. Your room would be last because it would be the last place he’d think of you being. Not without his help. 

The oven door opened and closed, too quickly for him to grab the food. He was checking to make sure you had been there. Likely spotted your used dishes as well. You barely heard his boots on the stairs. Daryl, for all his height and muscle, moved like a spirit. Still, you knew his gait, what to listen for that signaled his approach. 

You drew up the comforter just as the soft knock came and a quiet call of Y/N? that you decided to not answer. The light from downstairs was pale in your room, starting on the floor and soon bathing your bed and walls. He didn’t say anything, simply closed the door and descended the stairs just as quietly. 

And somehow, that’s what made the tears come. 

There were two days of tense air in the house before Daryl’s next run. Your ankle had improved but you were still unable to put weight on it. Denise advised you to stay off of it but you had waved her off with a yeah yeah, absolutely zero intention of heeding her advice. 

When you arrived at your home, Angie was already leaning against Daryl’s bike like she belonged there. The sight infuriated you. Your attempt to pass her by was quickly foiled by the woman herself, her hand coming up to tap a finger on your shoulder. 

“It’s Y/N, right?” 

Sighing, you turned, sitting your bad foot up on the toe of your boot to keep the pressure from taking you down. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been dying to meet you. Daryl’s told me a lot about you.”

“Funny. He hasn’t told me much about you.” She didn’t seem fazed. I’m glad he’s so chatty with you. “Nice to meet you.” You said in place of your inner monologue. “Excuse me.” You started to turn when she stood straight. 

“Hey, uh—I was just wondering. Are you and him a thing?” She flipped her hair—braided today—over her shoulder. 

“A thing?” You knew exactly what she meant, but feigned ignorance. It was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Yeah, you know—a couple.”

Closing your eyes, you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “No. Why?” You didn’t even realize you had clenched your fists until her eyes flitted down and back up, forcing you to relax lest she tell Daryl you were being hostile toward her. 

“No reason. He’s a great guy, isn’t he? Handsome too.” Now she was just trying to push your buttons. 

“Yeah. The best, actually.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “Don’t hurt him.” You said flatly—a clear warning—and limped your way up the steps and inside. 

“Where ya been?” Daryl’s voice greeted you before the door had even closed. He was on the couch, lacing up his boots. You regarded him silently for a moment, allowing Angie’s words to sink in before setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders.

“I’m going with you today.”

His hands stilled, frozen for a moment before he sat back a little and placed his forearms over his knees. Piercing blue eyes scanned over you before settling on your bum ankle, the urge to place your foot flat on the floor too intense to disregard. “Nah. Y’ain’t ready.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” You snapped, more harshly than you had intended, but it got your point across. His eyes narrowed, his own jaw tightening.

“Maybe not, but I do get to say who goes with me an’ it ain’t you. Not today.” The archer went back to his boots while you gaped at him, lacing the right one up before getting to his feet and grabbing his things.

“Why not? Because suddenly Angie is better than me?”

Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” He went for the door, opening it a couple of inches before your palm landed flat against the surface and shoved it closed. “The hell ya doin’?!”

“I won't stop.” You mocked, drawing your lips back in a snarl. “You’ve been up her ass since you met her. Hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t even talk to me.” 

“The fuck you on ‘bout? We go on runs, get the things people need. Ya forget food an’ meds ain’t just down at the convenience store anymore, Y/N?” He pulled the door open again, and again, you pushed it shut. “Let go.” His voice had dropped into that serious tone, the warning before the anger.

“No. I’m going with you. I’ll let you open this door when you agree to that.” You stood straighter, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off the whimper when you dared place your weight on the healing ankle. Of course, Daryl and his hyper awareness caught it.

“Guess it ain’t openin’ cause y’ain’t goin’.” He tried once more with the same result, this time letting his burdens fall to the floor in order to face you, nearly nose to nose. “Alright, ya got my attention.” He growled. It had been so long since he had spoken to you with such enmity, you couldn’t suppress a jarring flinch. 

Swallowing hard, you attempted to control the wobbling of your bottom lip. “Please, take me with you.”

“How many times I gotta say no?! Y’need to take your ass to that couch an’ let your damn ankle heal ‘fore I even think ‘bout lettin’ back out there.”

“Daryl.”

“No, Y/N.”

With a deep breath through your nose, you stepped backward, freeing up the space. “Fine. But maybe you should stay with Carol for a while when you get back.” Giving him your back, you didn’t bother to hide the limp. 

“Y’don’t mean that.” 

You needed to force yourself to keep walking when you heard the dejection in his tone. “I do.” You didn’t. “I don’t need you here.” You did. 

“Y/N—”

“Angie’s waiting.” You detoured at the last second and veered into the kitchen, seeing him from the corner of your eye, his hand lowering as if he had been reaching for you. Your heart was beating in your ankle by the time you were leaning heavily against the countertop. 

When the door closed, the floodgates opened. 

Two days. Daryl and Angie had been gone for two days. It wasn’t anything new to be held up on a run, but there were always close calls involved and you couldn’t imagine Daryl battling his way through herds or humans without you at his side. The two of you predicted one another’s movements, flowing and fighting together like a well oiled machine, always ending up victorious and on your way home. 

Did he have that with her now? 

“You know it’s not like that with the two of them, right?” Carol looked up from beneath her lashes as she chopped up the herbs and available vegetables for the stew. You knew it was more of an admonishing statement and not entirely a question.

“I don’t know that and neither do you.” You replied bitterly before tipping your glass to your lips. Carol smiled, that suspicious grin like she knew something you didn’t. 

“I know Daryl.” She picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the occupying ingredients into the pot. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”

“He’s my best friend.” The answer came out a little too quickly.

The other woman chuckled. “Is that all?” 

“Yes.” You countered almost gibingly. She only spared you an arched brow before turning to place the pot on the stove. You decided to ignore the intensely foreign fluttering in your chest and began spinning the glass between your palms. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“I—”

The knock at the door was sudden and urgent, repeating after only a few heartbeats. Your questioning expression met Carol’s. Spinning on the island stool, you eyed the door until it was opened. Carol’s hand on the edge tightened until her knuckles were white, but you could only make out quiet words and someone’s heavy breaths. Hobbling from your perch, you grabbed the door and pulled it back further. 

Angie was a mess, covered in dirt and blood and walker innards. “Y/N.” She panted. 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Where’s Daryl?” You didn’t remember ducking beneath Carol’s arm or pushing past Angie. The pain in your ankle became a mere afterthought as you walked backwards toward the steps, awaiting information. 

“He’s in the infirmary. He’s asking for you.” 

You didn’t wait, running with only the slightest hitch in your step. Daryl was more important than any amount of discomfort. Your mind was running rampant with scenarios. What if he was bit? Dying? What if he died before you made it to him? The last thing you had said to him was that you didn’t need him. 

And it was such a lie. 

“Y/N, wait!”

You tried to ignore her, the infirmary within sight. You needed to get to him so that you could breathe again. 

When her hand caught your shoulder, you reacted almost violently, throwing her away from you and almost to the dirt. “What?!” You bellowed. “What could possibly be more important than Daryl right now?!”

“Lana is!” She answered quickly. “My Lana!” Breathing heavily, you shook your head and threw out your arms, a silent but gestured question. “My wife.”

You felt like the wind had been punched right out of you. “Your—your wife?” Damn you, Carol!

“Yeah. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

“You’re telling me.” You muttered, looking toward the infirmary with an expression of remorseful longing. 

“I asked those questions because—because that man is so obviously head over heels for you that it’s absurd he hasn’t made a move. I thought maybe—maybe I could push things along.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, her eyes brightening at something she saw just over your other shoulder. When you turned, a dark haired woman was making her way over, a toddler on her hip. “I just—he’s not much of a talker—until I mention you.” Another glance at the other woman. “I’m sorry.”

When she started to leave, you reached out a hand, the new information still pinballing around in your head. “I’m sorry.” You had treated her—thought of her—so unfairly, and still, she smiled at you. 

“Go on. He’s waiting for you.” And then she was walking away to kiss her wife before converting to a motherly gentleness, her lips pressed to her son’s forehead.

God, you were an asshole.

To her. 

To Daryl. 

Your ankle only received a moment to remind you it was still weak before you continued your journey to the infirmary. 

“M’fine! Quit proddin’ at me!”

The sound of his voice gave your heart permission to beat again. You stood at the door, listening to him argue with Denise until the woman finally gave up with a huff and a clang of metal. Opening the screen door, you limped inside with a hiss, the adrenaline draining out of you, no longer blanketing the pain. You would definitely be set back a week or so after this. 

Daryl was on the exam table, filthy and cut up, shirt open and left foot propped up on a pillow. You could have laughed at the irony if you weren’t so relieved at seeing him there and breathing and whole. Alive. 

His ranting came to an abrupt halt when he noticed you in the doorway, eyes softening. His entire body seemed to visibly relax with an audible exhale. 

“Y/N.”

You didn’t even try to control your quivering lip this time and rushed to cross the distance even with Denise scolding you in the background. 

Your arms wound around his neck and his around your back. “Daryl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—”

“S’fine. Know ya didn’t.” He whispered against your temple. Denise cleared her throat behind you and the weight of one of Daryl’s hands disappeared before returning with renewed pressure. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled that he had—in one way or another—told Denise to get lost. Neither of you spoke until you pressed your face into the side of his neck and began to sob. “Hey, m’okay. Just fell on my ass.”

“How?” You sniffled. 

“Window was in my way.”

You laughed wetly, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy chuckle of his own. 

“Idiot.” You chided, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. He watched you gather your bearings, blue eyes dancing between yours. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah.” His hand was so gentle against your face, thumb sweeping over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Need to talk to ya ‘bout Angie.”

You shook your head but placed your hand upon his so that he didn’t dare move it. “She beat you to it. I’m so sorry. I was being a jealous asshole.” He tilted his head and squinted. 

“Jealous cause I was spendin’ so much time ‘round her?” It was like he knew the answer that you hadn’t quite accepted as truth yourself. 

“Among other things.” You rubbed your lips together and ducked your head. Daryl hummed in question, his hand sliding down to your jaw, thumb absently stroking across your bottom lip. Your voice instantly decided to become lost in your throat, your mouth opening when his hand fell away. “Daryl, I—” You almost bolted, felt the insane urge to run begin to vibrate throughout your legs from a nervous twitch that started in your stomach and spread throughout your chest.

“That man is so obviously head over heels for you—”

Your lips were on his before your brain had even fully given the order for you to move, likely startling you just as much as it had him—if the sharp inhale through his nose was anything to go by. So, you stayed there, frozen with your mouth against his, neither of you moving until it was so awkward that you thought more than once of how great it would be for the earth to open up and swallow you. Humiliation coloring your cheeks, you began to pull away—and then his mouth moved over yours, his warm palm coming to rest on the side of your neck. Brilliant as you were, you pulled back in shock, wide eyes blinking at him. Cerulean pools were shimmering with horror and shame.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, dropping his hand and picking at a patch of dry skin on his palm. His eyes lowered to follow the movement.

“No!” You blurted. Daryl actually flinched and reeled back. “No, no. It wasn’t—there’s no way it could be—ah, fuck it.” Your hands cupped either side of his face, pulling him to meet you in the middle. There was no hesitance on either side, mouths moving, tongues dancing, a delicate exploration of new territory, both literally and figuratively. His hands settled on your ribs, fingers flexing, trying to pull you closer when there was already so little space between you. 

When you parted, it wasn’t from a lack of oxygen, but from Daryl attempting to alter the angle, forgetting that you were no longer alone in the land of bum ankles.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

You pulled away and jumped back, hands in the air to ensure he knew that you were no longer touching him—as if he weren’t already missing it. “What? What happened?”

“Ankle.” He hissed, gingerly placing his foot back on the pillow. Once the pain had ebbed, he chuckled and beckoned you back over with a wave. “Looks like we’ll both be trapped at home, sunshine.”

“There are worse things.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face. “We have to talk about this.” You knew you sounded scared, and you were. Everything had just changed in the blink of an eye, the man you knew as your best friend had just suddenly become more, and it was terrifyingly exciting.

“Yeah, I know. Couch ain’t big enough for both’a our lame asses.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Guess it’s off to Carol’s extra bedroom.” When he arched a dark brow, you etched the most serious expression you could summon onto your face. “Strictly for logical reasoning, Mr. Dixon. We can’t climb stairs. She has one bedroom on the first floor. Lecher.” 

“First time I been called that.” He gave you that smile, the one that was so special, and seeing it then, you realized that he hadn’t given Angie that smile at all. It was yours and yours alone.

And you’d need to thank the gorgeous woman with the bow.

[pure-incense]

With summer rolling around, remember that our Pokemon companions have to deal with the heat too! Not every pokemon can beat the heat, especially some ice types, so here are some tips and tricks to make sure you and your team get to enjoy the summer!

1. Never leave your partner alone in the car while it's turned off! Cars can be a hot and sweaty nightmare even with the windows down and the AC blasting! They're even worse when you're locked in with little airflow and no water! If you have to leave the car, take your pokemon with you in their pokeball!

2. Make sure you have some shade nearby, and use pokemon safe sunscreen when it applies/is possible! Not only does the sun contribute to the heat, but plenty of pokemon risk drying out or even getting burnt if left out in the sun for too long! This includes many grass types! While many do appreciate the sun, there is such things as too much for some species!

3. Water! Bring so much water! A lot of people think the little water they have on them is enough! It's probably not! You need a lot more than you think, especially on a hot summer day, and you need even more if you plan on bringing your pokemon with you! Many water and grass types especially need plenty of water to stay stress free! Bring a large reusable bottle with you for yourself, and I like bringing a second bottle for my team as well!

4. Be aware of their types, and do research on that specific species! The Alolan subspecies of ninetails can spend a good amount of time in the heat compared to some other ice types, but just barely as they still prefer the colder mountain peaks! Fire types can survive extreme heat, some even living in volcanoes, but some like Houndoom and Arcanine may still want to let out excess heat by spewing smoke and flames and should be allowed to do so to prevent them from getting uncomfortable! Figure out what strategies and schedules work for you and your team AHEAD of time, and don't be afraid to ball them if they seem to be struggling!

5. POKEBALLS! USE THEM! I have mentioned them a few times on this list but it needs to be said! While some pokemon may dislike their ball, and being cooped up for long periods of time can cause harmful effects, a few minutes to an hour in their pokeball to cool down if overheating or avoid having to deal with the heat in general is harmless and usually tends to be downright beneficial to many pokemon! Please do not risk your weavile getting heatstroke because it dislikes it's ball! A short amount of discomfort so you can safely bring it home is always worth it. I know some people may be worried about the heat breaking the pokeball, especially in hotter climates, but you don't have to worry! Unless the ball has some sort of defect or was badly made, most pokeballs are built to withstand extreme temperatures to keep up with the wide variety of pokemon and demanding journeys some trainers end up on! If you're still nervous, you can purchase specialty balls made by independent craftsmen and small businesses specifically built with a focus on dealing with extreme temperatures and preform a ball transfer.

Obviously there's probably plenty of things I forgot or couldn't include! If you have anything you'd like to share about helping our pokemon friends stay happy and healthy during the hotter months of the year, you're totally free to add to this post!

[042502]

𐏋̫⃟🩷 𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 ᵃⁿᵈ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 🌷⃤̶̤

@ summary ♡ !! Some cute moments of Chris with his little princess.

@ content ♡ !! Dad Chris! Several cute moments, not suitable if you have Daddy issues. Unnamed daughter, nickname princess, baby, among others.

@ Writer's note ♡ !! I swear my uterus has revolutionized writing this. It's so cute, I was inspired thanks to some cute tiktoks that came out to me, by the way English is not my first language. If you notice any errors, you already know why, I leave the masterlist here so you can read more things similar to this.

When the little princess was just beginning to babble, there was a great debate over what her first word would be.

You had her in your arms and every day you helped her to give her ready words.

"ma-ma" They repeated it over and over again, but she only babbled. "Come on darling, like your dad says, ma"

Chris teases you as he puts on his deodorant, his hair was flattened and wet, he just got out of the shower. His chest is exposed. He approaches you from behind.

"Let's go again, ma... Ma"

Chris looks at the girl and she laughs when she sees him. Chris's lips open and mime "dad." The little girl moves restlessly, babbling.

"Come on girl" you encourage her a little.

"Bu... Da... Dada" You hear her babble and Chris celebrates behind you. "Dada" the little girl repeats and you give up.

Chris is always doing crazy things to entertain his little princess, he himself would be in charge of setting up a small private party section in the room.

"Mom" Te You were in the room you shared with Chris, finished reading some work documents when the little princess appears, wearing a princess dress that of course Chris gave her.

"Wow! How beautiful you are my life" the little girl does a little twirl showing off her dress. "What's with your cute outfit?" you put the documents aside as you look at the girl.

"Dad told me he would have a party in the living room, so I went to get ready for the party." She explains excitedly, extending some pigtails to you. “Can you fix my hair?” You sit her on the bed and start combing her hair.

Once it was ready you accompanied it to the "party". You were surprised by the great work Chris had put together in the room. The lights were off and there were only colorful rotating lights illuminating, She had used the karaoke toy that Nick had given the girl a few years ago and had a DJ console, on the floor there were many decorative cushions and rugs.

The little girl approaches the entrance which had a small lanyard, she extends her ID to Chris and he takes it, that's when you noticed that he had your false nails on. You laugh at that, her hair was covered by a long old wig that you had among your things, she even had improvised makeup, the little girl would have probably done it for her.

"Oh no. There's only four up hunty" Chris hands him back the ID.

"I'll be four in two days"

"I'll let it side. I'll be our little secret. Come on in" Chris removes the cord from the door and lets the little girl inside,

Chris played DJ, playing some fun songs for the little girl to dance to. Of course she had gotten Chris's dance moves.

"Thank you for coming tonight to have a good time, this is the great DJ Chris." Chris takes the toy microphone to say thank you. "And the apple juice is flowing!!!" luego de eso coloco una canción de el abcdario y comenzó a rappearla.

Then you give your little one a carton of apple juice and she starts drinking it as if it were alcohol.

"I'm drunk!" He screams and you laugh. Then Chris took one too.

"hey y'all get the new time trap" Chris speaks into the toy microphone again. "I'm sorry y'all I lost my subscription. so I got these ass y'all just hang with me. we're gonna get a hit on the way"

The mail boy always comes at the same time, you knew this because your daughter had taken it upon herself to memorize the time he arrived.

You were in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the family, it consisted of hot milk with waffles and coffee for you and Chris.

"Good morning Ma" Chris enters the kitchen and connects his lips with yours momentarily.

"You already said good morning to me in bed," you remind him as you clean one of the porcelain cups.

"I like to say good morning" he gives you that beautiful smile that you loved so much. "Where is the princess?"

You pour the hot coffee into the porcelain cup smiling, you turn around and carefully extend the cup to Chris. He receives it and when he takes a sip you explain that he is in the living room looking out the window.

Chris frowns confused by the answer, it was a warm morning, but he still didn't understand why she would be in the room.

"You can go get her, her breakfast is almost ready" you ask and Chris leaves his cup of coffee on the table and goes in search of the girl.

Indeed, once he enters the living room he sees her on the back of the sofa sniffing through the window.

She was only about six years old, she had quite a personality. She is so charismatic and fun.

Chris comes over to see what she was looking at so much out the window, it was the mail truck.

A young boy gets out of this and is in charge of lowering the boxes with the corresponding mail.

The boy opens the back of the truck and begins to lower some large boxes, you could see his muscles working. His shirt rested nicely around his biceps. "I need to see him without a shirt."

"I mean without any clothes" Chris looks down and sees that those words came from his little princess, who did not take her eyes off the boy for a second. "Not even with socks" she leans even closer to the window pane.

That's when Chris intervenes, he couldn't believe that his little girl was saying those words and that above all they were directed towards that boy.

"Ok... Ok... Wow... Wow... Wow" the little girl moves restlessly in her place looking at her father in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait, wait for me" The girl looks at him with doe eyes. "Your father is right here with you! Thank you! shit..."

"I'm sorry dad, I'm in love with that man" she looks out the window again shamelessly.

"That man? What are you saying girl?!" You could hear Chris shouting from the kitchen so you walked over to them. "This girl is provoking me" he takes her in his arms, moving her away from the window, placing her on his shoulder like a little daddy's sack.

"No! No! Dad! I want to see him!" She kicks her feet and stretches her short arms toward the window. You laugh amused and walk behind them.

Chris really spends as much time as possible with his princess, he always finds a way for them to do anything together.

"Hi Nick, I'm sorry for calling you but I'm dialing Chris and he's not answering. I just want to know how they are doing" you explain when you contact Nick.

You had to go to the supermarket with Matt who offered to take you while Chris stayed with Nick taking care of the girl.

"They're hanging out" Nick focuses his cell phone on his brother.

Chris was in front of the computer, on one of the screens he had Fornite open and on the second screen the Rapunzel movie was playing. Chris had his headphones on and on his lap was the little girl enjoying the movie.

Chris grabs a small container of yogurt, grabs a spoon for himself, and then grabs another for the little girl.

"They're fine" Nick speaks to you again.

Chris places the container of yogurt on the desk and picks up the joystick again to continue playing.

On special dates you and Chris do absolutely everything to create a beautiful memory in the little girl's memory. This time we are talking about Easter, Chris has bought an exaggerated amount of chocolate eggs.

You didn't really agree with the amount, since you didn't want the girl to eat so much chocolate. But Chris convinced you to leave them in moderation.

During the day they took the opportunity to cut out a mold of a large rabbit's foot. They used it as a stencil to make a rabbit footprint with a little flour in the mold on the floor.

The footprints lead to the backyard, where you and Chris were responsible for hiding the chocolate eggs.

Once everything was ready, they both left to look for the little girl at school.

You open the back door of the car and help the little girl put on her seat belt. Chris shifts in his seat looking at the little girl, waiting for her greeting.

"Hello Dad!"

"Hello baby" Chris gives the little girl a cute smile.

"How was school today?" you ask him and he starts a long talk about what he has done in class.

She has shown off her new knowledge and some anecdotes of the day. Then Chris tells her that the Easter bunny has stopped by the house while she was away, so when they get home she prepares for the big chocolate egg hunt.

The girl screams excitedly and strongly requests that Chris drive faster.

When they get to the house, the girl runs to the door, you open the door with the key and she enters, throwing her backpack on the floor and runs through the house.

"There are footprints!" She screams in surprise. "Mom! Mom!" The little one calls you so you can see the big footprints.

"Wow! Those are some big footprints!" You look with excitement at your daughter.

Chris enters the house, picks up the backpack, closing the door, walks where you are and observes the girl in the backyard collecting the chocolate eggs.

"We did it" you look at him and hug Chris's arm as you watch the little girl have fun.

"Are you happy?" Chris asks the girl in front of him.

"If he responds. It's been a long time since we last came to a restaurant for breakfast" he looks around.

Chris has been very busy working lately, especially being away with the recent tour. They have currently taken a break, so he decided to take his cute daughter to have breakfast with him alone.

"Do you know what you want for your birthday?" The girl sinks into her seat. "You can call me baby. We can have anything." Today was her ninth birthday, so Chris wanted to give her a nice gift.

"I would like... I would like you to be more at home with me and mom" Chris's heart shrinks at his girl's words.

"Alright. I will be with you and mom for the rest of my days." Chris extends his hand and the little girl takes it. Chris gives her a little squeeze. "You know I love you? I love you too much and you will have everything you want, I will not leave again for so long, I don't like being away from you either."

At that moment the waiters arrive with a small piece of cake and a sparkler. They leave the plate in front of the girl, the people around begin to applaud excitedly. The girl's blue eyes begin to burn and tears appear. He stands up and runs to hug his dad.

"I love you Dad!"

@ Writer's note ♡ !! I hope you like it, thank you for reading, remember to leave your like and share with your friends. If you want to be part of the taglist to receive notifications every time I update, leave me a comment.

@ taglist ♡ !! @luverboychris @l34n @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @melonjollyranche @sssoniaswiftt @ecliphttlunar @jetaimevous @khxna @aliceloveschris @kiliaisinnnthehouseee @starlace111

[harrywavycurly]

I just need the “oh fuck..” situation for when Harry realizes he’s in love with his bff

Hiii babes!! I love prompts like this because honestly it could be the tiniest thing that just makes him pause and go “that’s odd…why do I feel like this?” so I hope you enjoy this little blurby thingy!💖

Harry is distracted, he can’t seem to focus on anything other than the softness of your hand that’s currently in his as the two of you stand at the bar of one of your favorite restaurants. His mind becomes a revolving door of questions like has your hand always felt this nice in his or if it’s just a new hand cream you’re trying out that’s making him take notice of how soft it is? The most important question floating around in his head and the one he isn’t even sure how to answer is why does the simple act of holding your hand, something he’s done countless times before, have his heart racing and his mind all fuzzy?

He isn’t sure how long the two of you have been standing there but what he does know is about two seconds ago you started messing with the ring on his index finger, twirling it around with your thumb and he can’t help but take notice just how small your hand looks in his and he doesn’t know why that makes a smile creep onto his face. He looks down briefly and catches you already looking up at him and he has to look away before his cheeks get the chance to flush and you ask him what’s wrong because he’s not entirely sure he can form complete sentences at the moment if he’s being honest with himself.

You smile at the bartender as he slides your drink towards you and Harry is caught off guard at how much he doesn’t like the feeling of you letting go of his hand so you can pick your drink up. He feels the corners of his mouth droop into a frown as you take half a step away from him to grab a napkin to place around the glass so it’s not too cold in your hand and Harry feels extremely aware just how far away you are from him and he doesn’t like it at all. When you turn around so you’re facing him with a grin as your eyes find his that’s when he feels them, the butterflies in his tummy. It’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time but the only difference is this time he isn’t looking at you as a stranger that seems like someone he’d like to get to know more, this time he’s looking at you like you’re the one he’s secretly been writing all his love songs about and he’s not sure how he hasn’t realized it sooner. He’s in love with you.

[sicutpuella]

Misery Loves Company. (18+)

Simon Riley, the Lieutenant... is a lonely man, his existence shrouded in a cloak of solitude as harsh as a brutal winter. The closest definition he has to a friend, has succumbed to death after a mission gone horribly wrong.

There are no living family members to confide in or visit during his deployment breaks—no home to return to. It is pathetic, truly; a lieutenant of the special forces, his wallet brimming with wealth, his bank accounts similarly bloated. Yet, he finds no comfort in material possessions. He has never been a large spender. He prefers the minimalistic; purchasing only what he needs.

“You should try it. You won’t regret it, sir,” says a cheeky, younger sergeant, smiling as he passes by Simon; his hands nonchalantly tucked in his pockets. Simon is already familiar with the suggestion.

Perhaps it would help; perhaps it wouldn’t. But it feels—pathetic—to hire a woman solely for emotional company.

He's done it now. For weeks. With the same woman.

She’s kind enough. Kind enough to take care of a pathetic, desperate, lonely man like him.

He pays her well, of course. It’s not as if he’s a man without resources. The lieutenant’s wallet bulges with a hefty stack of pounds, after all. He wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. He’s not a man of charity. There are no women like her waiting in his apartment on the other side of the base. Instead, there is a cold, empty dwelling; the furniture a few pieces of bare essentials, sparsely scattered about. He’s not a man who enjoys frivolous decorations. He pays her to act like a girlfriend, to pretend she cares for him.

“Have a decent day today!” she texts him every day, without fail.

And he knows the kindness is fake. They are words; nothing more. There is no feeling behind them, no meaning. He is not so naïve to think otherwise. She only cares because he is paying her; because he is the customer. That is all. There is nothing else to it.

“I’m off to class today. Hope you have had your breakfast already! 🤍🤍🤍!" She signs off with that. Always with a heart that follows her every message. A silly little emoji to convey affection. It is a gesture that only serves to further grate his nerves.

The lieutenant lets the phone buzz for a few more seconds, the constant ringing loud in the solitude that is his office. He pays no mind.

With a resigned sigh, he finally picks up the phone, his eyes quickly skimming through the text on the screen. He does reply this time. A simple “okay” is all he types. He doesn’t want to get attached.

That’s always his fucking fault. He’s too… paranoid. Distrustful.

He has never been close to anyone in his life. He cannot remember the last time he called anyone a true friend, save for Johnny, or the last time he allowed himself to be open to a relationship. No girlfriend. Not now, or ever before. A man like him can never afford to have something holding him down, not when what he does is too dangerous.

It is why he has been in this miserable arrangement. He cannot afford the emotions that come with a real relationship. What he has now is fine. What he does now is a simple transaction—nothing more and nothing less. But.

He needs something more. He hopes she could be… well… understanding enough.

He knows she doesn’t do sex for pay. But he hopes a few thousand pounds could sway her.

It's been a long time.

It is a desperate attempt. His body has its needs; his hormones raging from all the pent-up sexual aggression. He has been on back-to-back missions since the beginning of the year, with no downtime to relieve himself.

A few thousand pounds is nothing to him. He can afford it. He has the money to spend.

“I have an offer," he pauses, "I'll give you double your usual rate if you let me fuck you," he types, his fingers gliding across the keyboard with a cold precision.

A momentary pause lingers, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his mind. He feels a twinge of foolishness, but it quickly dissipates. Guilt is a foreign concept to him.

She hesitates, unsure of how to respond. The coldness of the situation sends a chill down her spine.

"Uh... what exact number?" she manages to type, her uncertainty palpable.

"5000 pounds," he confidently replies, his fingers dancing across the keys without a hint of hesitation. It means nothing. 5000 pounds. He can’t remember the last he spent on anything that expensive. It is pathetic; to be reduced to such a lowly beast by needs of the flesh; when he can simply relieve himself in the showers like he usually does.

The lieutenant bites his bottom lip. It is an insane gesture. He is crazy to even be willing to spend that much on such a thing..

"I'm not experienced. I'm not a skilled... professional in that regard," she confesses, her texts laced with vulnerability.

“What do you know, then?”

How many men has she been with in the past? His jaw tenses as he waits for her reply. The lieutenant does not know why he feels this sudden bout of jealousy; this sudden sense of possessiveness.

“The basics…”

“What’s the most you’ve done?” The lieutenant is tempted to add that he’s not a gentle man in the bedroom; that he wouldn’t be able to hold back on her if they were to get intimate. But. She would probably think he's insane.

“The usual. Vaginal. Hand and mouth stuff. But… I did it last 2 years ago.”

He is relieved to hear she has not had sex in a long while. His fists are clenched on the table. He hopes it wasn’t with anyone she was in a relationship with. And he’d prefer it if her past partners were nobodies; random men she’d met during a quick night out.

But that’s not the lieutenant’s business, anyway. They are not dating.

“I am… not a gentle man, darling.” He presses send; his fingers hesitating as he waits for her reply. He can feel the muscles on his shoulders tensing.

“It’s fine with me…” She was shitting bricks at the moment.

“Come to the hotel after your class.” He adds.

Now, she finds herself in the dimly lit confines of the hotel bedroom, the air heavy. Tension hangs in the atmosphere, as if the very room itself holds its breath. Her naked form lies before him, vulnerable and exposed.

It's a cheap hotel room, the one they frequent. The kind soldiers use on their leave-out days when they get too frisky with their hired company. The bed is old and creaks with every slight movement, its springs and mattress squeaky and worn. The carpet, once plush, is now threadbare and stained, bearing the marks of countless forgotten nights.

It is an insane gesture. The lieutenant can’t remember the last time he had someone like this in his bed. The last time he got out of a long dry spell. What he has with her is a contract; a business transaction. This is not love. There is no love between them. The lieutenant does not know why he even feels a little guilty. But. He quickly pushes the thoughts away. No need for them.

She nervously toys with her lower lip, her gaze locked on him as he slowly undresses.

He is large. His shoulders are broad and thick. His hands, capable of ripping a man’s head off bare handed. He’s not the gentle type. Or the tender type. He’s far from that.

He is all muscle. And it is obvious he works out. His body is all solid muscle; his body littered with old scars and new bruises from past missions.

“Can… can you be careful at first?”

He nods. “I’ll be careful,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s going so gentle with her. He doesn’t know why he’s even indulging her now, considering how much he’s paid her to have her tonight. But he cannot stop.

It’s awkward. He is a stranger to her. They are not close like a boyfriend and girlfriend. He doesn't know her—or how much she has let other men do to her.

But it feels like she’s known him for a long time. Maybe it’s the way this connection between them is mutual; how they are both desperate for each other in this twisted little way.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it. The cheapness of it… the fact that they’re strangers doing this to each other. The way the bed creaks under their weight.

She feels his length between her legs, a moment of anticipation that hangs heavy in the air. With closed eyes, she surrenders herself to the sensations, her breath hitching in response. He isn't known for his gentle touch, not even with women. The coldness of his demeanor is unwavering, yet there's a nagging feeling deep within him that defies reason.

She is a stranger, an enigma to him. To treat her as if she were the love of his life would be absurd, and yet, a strange sense of protectiveness tugs at his heart. It compels him to take care of her, to protect her in this moment of vulnerability. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly, her head tilting back, exposing her delicate neck.

"Relax," he whispers quietly, his voice barely audible. His eyes remain fixed on her, absorbing every detail, every reaction. She appears so small beneath him, a precious creature in his eyes. Her beauty captivates him, fueling his desire to possess her.

"Yeah… I will," she responds, her voice laced with a mix of anticipation and a hint of discomfort. Her body tenses as he slowly enters her, stretching her to accommodate his eager cock. A whispered praise escapes his lips, his grip on her wrists firm as he locks them together, pinning them above her head. His fingers coil around her slender wrists, exerting his dominance. His free hand reaches up, gently brushing strands of hair behind her ear, a tender gesture in contrast to the intensity of their exchange.

Soft cries escape her lips, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. He revels in the tightness that surrounds him, relishing in the sensation of her warmth engulfing him. His lips graze the sensitive skin of her ear, his voice a low rasp against her flesh. "You're so tight around me, darling," he murmurs, his breath tickling her. He buries his face in the curve of her neck, his teeth applying a gentle pressure, marking her as his own.

She sinks her teeth into her lip, the force causing it to split, mingling the taste of metallic blood with the thick, heady air. Every twitch, every subtle movement of her body, sparks a surge of tension coursing through his veins.

"Fuck... you feel so damn incredible, darling," he grunts, his voice dripping with a frigid intensity.

He tucks her legs up to her chest, exposing her throbbing cunt to his hungry gaze. With a primal instinct, he plunges his thick cock deeper inside her, feeling a hitch in his breath as the sensation overwhelms him. It's been far too long since he's felt this level of pleasure, and it ignites a fire within him.

"Sweet lord..." he whispers, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and dark desire. He releases her wrists, wrapping his arms around her petite form, pulling her closer against him.

She curls her fists, her knuckles turning white as she punches the mattress in response to the powerful intrusion. Her body trembles under the force of his relentless thrusts, each one pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. The vulgar bulge on her small tummy, sends a shiver of arousal down his spine.

And he should feel shame. He should feel disgusted at the obscene, vulgar display they both have going on right now, the way they’ve lost total control over their senses and instincts, their bodies lost in pleasure and passion.

But he does not feel shame. After making them both come undone, they lay spent on the creaky mattress. The lieutenant stares up at the ceiling, a strange sense of clarity washing over him. He glances at her. She is curled up to his side, her breath still rapid and erratic. She turns her back to him.

She feels dirty. Disgusting. He doesn't know why he feels a sting as he watches her turn away. The lieutenant watches her silently, feeling a protective instinct resurface. The overwhelming desire to reach out and wrap his arms around her, to pull her closer.

She lays there in shock.

She told herself this would never, ever happen. He doesn’t know why he feels such a strong desire to tell her it’s okay, that it’s going to be alright. He tells himself he does not know her, does not feel anything for her. But deep down, he knows it is a lie. He does know her, and he does feel something for her. And for the first time, his instinct and emotions overpower logic and common sense. The lieutenant takes her into his arms.

He hears her deep breathing. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers as he holds her close, feeling her heart racing against his chest. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers again, sensing her struggle to hold back tears. "Shh… it’s okay." He runs his fingers through her hair soothingly, holding her tighter. "You’re safe with me, darling. I’ve got you."