#he's getting quite a glow-up since last time

[blimpintime]

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks. 

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men. 

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations. 

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face. 

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose. 

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people. 

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean.  However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of. 

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question. 

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same. 

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside. 

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?  

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.” 

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder. 

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you. 

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone. 

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands. 

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[allwaswellllll]

The Secret Of Us (1/1)

Summary: Lucien returns after three weeks away and, well, Helion's library might never recover.

Rating: Explicit

Note: I haven't written smut in a decade, so I'm scared. Pls be kind.

I felt it, you held it, do you miss us?

A03

Nestled in a private corner of Helion’s library, Elain stretched out her bare legs against the tufted cushions upon the old settee, cradling a book in her hands. The soft glow of dusk rippled through the small window, casting her skin in the warmest shade of gold. It was true her tone had changed in the year she had been at Day, freckles blooming on her sun-kissed skin. Her nose always seemed just that little bit pink, perhaps from the constant warmth or from perpetual burn. But gods, she loved it here.

She loved the High Lords son more, though thinking about that too often when he was away chafed on their already blooming and freshly accepted mating bond.

It had been three weeks now since she had seen Lucien and she missed him. The ache had settled in her chest the moment he had winnowed away, never dulling though the weeks had passed. She tried to keep herself busy, helping in the libraries, the other scholars, Helion’s two other courtiers as they planned political trips in the fall. But that ache remained, a persistent reminder of the golden thread that demanded her mate.

Three weeks was too long. She tried not to sulk but slipped every now and then. Like now.

The setting sun was so beautifully warm against her face that she closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the pillow. The peace of this court, her home, never failed to take her breath away. She had never felt quite so settled in her life, so happy and safe and loved, despite her mate currently in another territory charming the pants off courtiers and High Lords alike. She accompanied him, most of the time, but as this was his first official outing as Heir of Day, she thought it best he conquer it on his own. She regretted her choice immediately.

Like she had conjured him up from will alone, she felt him before she saw him. Snapping her eyes up, she found Lucien leaning against the bookshelf sectioned to block off this particularly private part of the library, a small smirk on his lips and his arms crossed. He watched her, eying her up and down and heat bloomed across her chest at the purely male flame alight in his eyes.

The book fell from her lap onto the carpeted floor as she spun herself off the lounge and launched herself at him. He met her halfway, his arms circling around her waist as she flung her arms around his neck, lifting her up and crushing her against his chest. His face burrowed in the crook of her neck, and he breathed in her scent deeply, squeezing tightly. A part of her felt whole again. Home. He was home to her.

‘Gods, I missed you,’ he spoke into her neck, muffled by his lips against her skin. Her laugh was choked, a lump forming in her throat as she pulled back, her hands brushing against his cheeks as she leant forward and kissed him.

He groaned against her lips, pulling her up, up, like he couldn’t get close enough. She opened up for him, like she always had, even when they were fighting against this bond, her fingers sliding down to his chest and fisting his white linen shirt. He was so warm. Their mating bond hummed in response, lighting the flame within them to touch, taste, take. Three weeks was too long. Too soon. She needed him.

Lucien seemed to have the same feelings as his hands moved down to her thighs, lifting her up. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and even though they were flush against each other it still wasn’t close enough. She felt desperate, panicked, like if she didn’t have him now she would die. He backed them up while his lips still moved against hers, all teeth and tongue and them, spinning at the last moment so that he sat on the cushions and pulled her down onto his lap. He never let go once. His fingers moved from her waist to her neck, into her hair as he cradled her neck, kissing her deeply. She moaned against his mouth, grinding against the hardness of him against her core. Her long skirt, white and chiffon with a large slit up to her upper thigh, bunched around her waist as his free hand found her thigh, moving higher, higher, higher until he found what he was looking for and the sound that left both their mouths was not human or fae, but pure animal. She moved against his hand, breathless against his lips, needing more of him, all of him. The feeling left her breathless and dizzy, that all-consuming lust and love that she had only ever felt with him.

‘It feels like you missed me,’ he breathed into her ear, and she tipped her head back as he brushed his thumb over her bundle of nerves, slick and aching for him. Her answering moan left him chuckling against her ear and the sound sent a bolt of lightning straight through her. His lips against her ear were always her undoing, but when he used his fingers like that? She felt like she could combust right then and there.

She still had enough wits about her to move her fingers down to his pants, fumbling with the buttons because she needed him inside her. She couldn’t wait, didn’t want slow or teasing, she just wanted him. All of him.

When he was finally free she shifted, swatting his fingers away before she sunk down on him slowly, the air escaping her lungs with each inch. He groaned against her mouth, his fingers instead moving to her waist to help guide her and gripping her so tightly she knew he’d leave a bruise. Wanted him to.

‘Fuck Elain,’ Lucien breathed, his voice choked, and she nodded breathlessly as she begun moving slowly while her fingers gripped his shoulders. Their foreheads connected, already glazed with sweat, like the fire within them burned them from the inside out. Breathing each other in with each lift and sink, Lucien bucking his hips to go deeper, and she whimpered as she kissed him again. And again. It was messy and wet and so perfectly them that she had to swallow the ever-growing lump in her throat. Never again. She’d tell him, they were never leaving each other again.

The bond in Elain’s chest bloomed hotter, tight, and fierce, her body heightened as she rose higher and higher, the familiar coiling sensation building as she moved faster, needing him undone. She wanted him to spill inside her, come together, feel their bond reach that crescendo that was unlike any other worldly experience. She nipped on his lip, her fingers moving to his cheek as she stroked his skin. ‘I love you.’ She spoke against his mouth, or maybe she didn’t speak at all, but suddenly they both came hard, their moans and breaths filling the air around them as they gripped each other tightly through it. Never letting go.

Her forehead rested against his, slick with sweat, their clothes still on, and she breathed out a laugh as she closed her eyes. He panted against her temple, his fingers running up and down her thighs and fuck she’d never get over this feeling.

‘Let’s go upstairs so I can bed you properly mate,’ Lucien whispered in her ear and her laugh echoed in the library even after he winnowed them away.

[humanimalgam]

this slut has a body now

[lovegasmic]

What about curseless modern au JJK, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami and Sukuna proposing to you?

 𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY PROPOSE

─── . all jjk ( adult ) men x gn!reader

꒰ fluff : curseless au but Satoru is still Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara's teacher , mamaguro canon : you're Toji's second spouse , added choso bc why not ꒱ ★ taglist

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SATORU

A nice candlelit dinner under the soft glow of moonlight is the least you can expect from a man like Satoru Gojo, who has never been a stingy guy in his life, much less with you, his beloved.

it was a little strange to have his students decide to accompany you that day, with suspicious faces except for Megumi, but you ignore it, almost used to the teenager’s antics, going along with the young people who obviously want to keep you nice and distracted.

“oh, look, why don’t we go over there?” Yuuji suspiciously speaks, followed by Nobara’s agreement in the same forced tone, almost dragging you towards the secluded spot where you first met Satoru, quite near jujutsu tech and a few steps into a forest that now had light strings all around a small clearing, the grass covered in a bunch of flower petals and of course, your boyfriend standing in the middle with a wide grin and a slight nervous fidgeting of his fingers behind his back.

“you look perfect” his words are quite rough with held back emotions, coming to hold onto your hand and scanning your outfit with loving eyes, you knew it was suspicious that Nobara decided to go shopping and demanded you wear something new that day.

the guys are no longer behind you, but you feel their eyes hidden behind some trunks as Satoru kneels with a glowing diamond ring, reciting what you believed was a speech he has been preparing for multiple days. and even though you kind of expected, the tears are also quick to come as you now fiance slides the ring on your finger and gives you a deep kiss, just the rustling of leaves and a camera click on the background.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUGURU

the cozy apartment you shared with your boyfriend was pitch black as soon as you opened the door, strange, since you often got home to find him lounging on the sofa with a loose shirt and pants, but “Sugu, why is everything so...” your words get cut at the faint glow coming from the living room, deciding to just follow it instead of wasting breath since your boyfriend was utterly quiet.

scattered candles greet you here and there, almost as in a trail to guide you to where Suguru stands with... a suit, “what are you—” once again, you trail off as your eyes land on the beautifully decorated table for two Suguru has set, with a few of your favorite pastries and a home cooked dinner.

“welcome home” his smile is soft like always, although his eyes sparkle even more, or was it just adoration? none of that matters when Suguru approaches, helping you leave your belongings aside next to your jacket he gently takes off your shoulders.

you’re a bit speechless at this point, staring at Suguru with confusion, yet he never acknowledges the elephant in the room, simply giving you smiles and not a single word, not until you’re both finished with dinner and is now helping you up from your seat, barely giving you time to part your lips before he is already kneeling, eyeing you at you with those soft eyes of his.

“i love you” is what he murmurs first, leaving a kiss on your hand before caressing the skin, almost mindlessly, trying to take every detail of you, “i knew you were the one for me ever since we met, and I can’t imagine my life without anyone else but you” the raw honesty and love makes your breath hitch, a few tears blocking your eyes before Suguru is grinning at your eager nod once he finishes speaking, the elegant but minimalist band now laying on your finger, a prove of his undying love.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  TOJI

after his wife died, Toji never even considered getting married again, until he met you. and to be honest, at the beginning of your relationship he was not even sure it would last long, not because of you, you are like a ray of sunshine filtering through the cracks of his soul, managing to wiggle a way in, making yourself at home; but because of him, of his unsteady and troubled life style alongside an almost 12 year old Megumi.

the idea bugged him for a while now, staying awake while you peacefully slept next to him, blissfully unaware of Toji’s inner worries.

mentally cursing himself as he gently starts to rock you to consciousness, “wake up, doll, I need to ask you something” his voice is gruff, waiting until you’re fully awake before talking with a hand on your shoulder and a thumb on your neck, “do you want to get married?”

and you have to blink a few times before muttering a “...what?” if that was a proposal, it was truly unexpected, “now?”

“... why not?”

“toji?!”

"answer” his thumb is a bit rougher now, sliding up and down the side of your throat, eyes locked on your skin, “i want to know”

“of course I want to” you say without hesitation, nuzzling onto the man’s rough and big palm, “i’d love to marry you”

one, two breathings and Toji nods, pulling you against his chest, “okay”

“...okay? that’s it?” you grumble muffled by his chest.

a deep chuckle coming from Toji makes your face vibrate “we’re going to the city hall tomorrow”

“with Megumi”

“with Megumi, of course”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  KENTO

you were eternally grateful that Kento finally decided to take some vacations with you, knowing how overworked your boyfriend was and how much he adored the beach, you booked a nice and cozy beach hut for the week. you considered it to be a wonderful surprise to help you him destress, not really expecting the one getting surprised were you as well.

the first few days were like a dream come true, Kento was finally loose and those eye bags were gone, giving the blonde a younger look and a never falthering smile on his face.

two days left of vacation and Kento came back from the reception with a grin, “the guide told me about a nice private path along the beach, do you want to go?” and how could you refuse. hand in hand and footless walking along the shore, the warm sand feeling nice under your feet before coming onto a particular spot secluded from the rest.

the sun was starting to set, creating a beautiful glow on your skin that made Kento stare in awe, coming to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss on your neck, “i need to ask you something”

his words are slow and soft, almost as if caressing your ears, gently caressing the skin of your arms and stomach, not getting enough of your touch while reciting his undying love towards you, giving you merely a second to process his words before you’re greeted by the sight of his kneeling form, shorts slightly dirty with sand and his blue shirt half open and flowing with the wind. you really, really have to be out of your mind if you even considered refusing your perfect lover’s proposal.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  CHOSO

picnics with Choso were a tradition, having found an apartment to share next to a park was just as if sent for the both of you.

so you’re now lounging on a blanket, laying on your back while Choso rummages through the picnic basket, casually hearing a choked cough coming from him.

“baby, are you okay?” you ask with concern, shielding your eyes from the sun to stare at the man with slightly pink cheeks.

“yeah, fine don’t worry, love” Choso smiles, pushing the ring box deep into the basket, both thanking and cursing Yuuji for reminding him about the detail, but also not happy by his little brother’s lack of subtleness.

it takes him a few minutes to calm down his erratic heartbeat before laying down next to you, propped up in an elbow before holding your hand and pressing a kiss on the palm, successfully catching your attention, “you look beautiful”

“you look really handsome too” your smile is comforting and all Choso needs to continue, allowing your hand to cup his cheek before using his own to hold it tight against the heated skin, eyes fluttering closed slightly with a soft sigh.

“i was thinking about something...” he starts, gently nuzzling onto your palm, “you know I love you... i love you so much and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life...” his eyes finally meet yours, giving you a tiny yet nervous smile, “i want you to marry me... if you want, of course, what I mean is... would you marry me?”

some people say grand proposals are better, but for you, nothing could ever beat the gentle private tone in your boyfriend’s voice, the way his eyes lit up at your yes, and how his hands trembled subtly while sliding the finger him he got you.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUKUNA

your boyfriend’s power was slightly scary sometimes, like, how did he even manage to book a whole restaurant?!

“welcome, Mr. Sukuna” your ears are used to those words coming from every single worker at the restaurant, starting from the valet, the receptionist and now the waiters and waitress lining up to allow you to make your way, with an arm looped around your boyfriend’s larger one.

“what’s all this?” you ask the man once you’re both comfortably sitting down, a violinist playing in a corner, “is something important happening?”

Sukuna just shrugs, leaning back against his own chair like he owned the place, with a smirk on his face, but deep down you knew he was hiding something, he was not being his usual self, “can’t I spoil you for once?”

“you spoil me every day”

he clears his throat, pretending not to hear that one last sentence before focusing on the menu, so you let it slip, for now, or at least until after dinner.

but he is still nervous, still fidgeting with the cutlery and glass of wine.

“Sukuna?” he, surprisingly jolts slightly as you catch his attention, “is there anything you need to tell me?”

fully expecting for him to refuse everything, not to watch him stand up and walk right next to your chair, there’s another clear of his throat, a change of weight onto the other feet, now he’s fixing his tie and sliding a hand through his hair, “Sukuna...”

“fuck” he grumbles, finally landing on his knee in front of you and placing both of your hands on his, a bit too solemn, “i...” he mutters your name, swallowing thickly, “through my whole life...”

“don’t force it” you help with a smirk.

“the brat said I need to impress you” Sukuna finally sighs, resting his forehead against your thigh, “or else you wouldn’t want me” so it was that, and you can’t help and chuckle.

“Kuna... i do, I want to marry you”

there it was, you being the sweet mind reader you were, helping your man with poor communication skills. that’s exactly why he fell for you, and now, almost proposing too.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[litchifaerie]

hii! i hope you’re doing well!!

can i get a jace fic where she’s his younger sister and she’s just really dependent on him, and like follows his around and tried to stay w him while he’s really protective of her especially from the greens

pairings: protective!jace x valeryon(strong)!reader

warnings: not quite angst unless the last line. but the tension is there, fluff i suppose, romantic tension, canon typical incest. if anything else let me know, MAJOR SPOILER FOR FIRE & BLOOD/FUTURE HOTD

word count: 1.8k <3

masterlist

a/n: I am sorry i have been tardy with my promise but here is your much awaited request!!

You liked it here. Laying in bed, reading a book of poems while your mother combed through your hair. Rhaenyra always had a soft spot for her only daughter, caving in and allowing every reasonable whim you had. “Mother” you speak slowly, putting the book down and holding it close to your chest. Rhaenyra stops her gentle movement, looking down at you with fondness, “yes my child”?

“Can we stay here in king’s landing for longer?” you ask, “I do not wish to leave grandsire’s side yet. The maesters do not bring news of improvement any longer and I fear….” You trail off not wanting to word it out loud. Rhaenyra knew of the gravity of her father’s health but she feared the wedge between her children and her half siblings will only give rise to new fights and arguments every day.

“You know we can’t my dove”, she pets your head affectionately, “who will look after Dragonstone with us gone?”

“Please”, you request sitting up and turning your back to face her, “I do not want to risk not being here when he passes away and miss my chance at a last good bye.” Even Rhaenyra couldn’t argue with your words. Your request comes from a place of adoration for your grandfather, he was quite fond of his elder granddaughter, but Rhaenyra also contemplated what can go wrong if she isn’t here for her father’s death. No matter the legitimacy of her being named heir to the throne, she is well aware of the whispers at court, the scheming of the hand and the queen. Aegon Targaryen cannot be king if she is here to take control of the situation.

“It’s settled then” Rhaenyra agrees after a beat of silence. “We shall stay here for as long as you desire.” A smile of gratitude makes its way on your face at your mother’s words and you are quick to embrace her “Thank you mother”. Rhaenyra chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on your back “Now rest my dove, it has been a hectic day.” She leans in to kiss your forehead “sweet dreams”.

You make your way beneath the sheets, head resting comfortably on the pillow “Farewell mother”. With one last look at you Rhaenyra steps out of the room. The door closes softly behind her, letting the dim glow from the candles lull you into sleep.

Morning arrives gently, with sunshine streaming through the windows casting a soft glow in your room. The ladies assigned for your care had let themselves in, rousing you from your sleep and ushering you to the bath to get ready for the day.

The baths at King’s Landing were more majestic than back home. You take your time soaking in the warm water with jasmine oil and rose petals, sighing in pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to get dressed with the help of the ladies and having your breakfast alone, opting for some calm in the morning knowing your brothers and uncles will inevitably destroy any sense of peace in the coming hours.

“I’d like to take a stroll through the keep, alone. Much has changed since I’ve been away.” The guard assigned for your duty only nods at your command as you make your way out of the room. The seven-pointed star glares at your face at every turn you make, a stark contrast to the regal décor the keep had in your childhood.

“Sister! Wait!” comes a voice from your right. You stop turning around only to be faced with a panting Jacaerys. “Brother” you greet with a slight smile “You are up early today” you tease. “I was looking for you” says Jacaerys, ignoring your teasing. “I was wondering if you were alright after last night’s events”.

You slightly wince at the memory of Jace throwing a punch at Aemond and Aegon and Luce starting a brawl of their own. Your cousin Baela even tried jumping only for you to grab her by the waist as you yelled for them to stop.

“I’m alright” you dismiss his worries. “It was just a graze”. Aemond’s elbow had hit you in the cheek causing you to yelp in pain. Aemond’s actions did stop midway not expecting you to be so near and get hurt but it only spurred Jace even more as he landed even stronger punches than before at his uncle’s jaw.

Jace gently reaches a hand up to caress your face. “Its good it didn’t bruise” he thumbs at your cheek, “I’d not let it go if that brute ruined your pretty face”. And there it was again. Jace always had a penchant for using certain choice of words which reddened your face.

“Jace” you warn, “Do not fall prey to our uncle’s provoking. You know both of them only say words to rile us up.” Jace let’s go off your face sighing “I can’t help it if they accuse us of…” Accuse us of what? The Truth?

The somber tone in his voice lets you know of his mood dropping. It was only the start of the day and you will be damned if you let your older brother sulk so early. “I’d like to accompany you to your training if that’s alright with you?” Nothing makes him happier than being able to show off his skills to his younger sister and you are well aware of that. Jace is quick to look at you with shining eyes and agrees to your request.

You follow after him as he excitedly tells you of a new method he learnt from Daemon, smiling at his words and nodding when you think its appropriate to let him know you are attentive. Jace liked having your sole attention on him. It was just you and him in the beginning. His mother told him that the first time he saw you when he was a boy of two, you had looked at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. Your crying would only stop if your older brother was there to shush you with his toys. You were the happiest baby when in his presence, trailing behind him like a little duckling, a trait which you still carry. Nothing soothes your nerves like being near Jace.

You watch as Jace spars with a squire. A sheen of sweat on his forehead making him look godly in the late morning sun. “I do not think its fit for a lady to be here niece” comes a chilling voice from right behind you, closer than you’d like that voice to be. “Uncle” you greet, your eyes not wavering from Jace at all, “I think I can go wherever I’d like. The Red Keep is my home as well after all.” Aemond smirks at your reply. Out of all the strong bastards you were his favourite to toy with. The boys were quick to throw punches but the ability to sometimes make you unable to come with a witty response brought him immense satisfaction.

“Hmm” he hums, coming to stand by your side, a little too close for comfort, “I hope my elbow didn’t cause you any harm princess. It would be unfortunate to see your brown eyes blacken from my unintentional hit.” Brown eyes. He emphasized it. He is trying to make you take the bait again. And his backhanded words of comfort and presence did unnerve you more than you’d like to admit.

“If you wish to see how real men train perhaps you should watch me instead of your no good of a brother. He moves like a boy who was gifted a sword a day ago” Aemond whispers in your ear. His breath hitting your skin makes your skin crawl and you shiver in disgust, moving back and putting a distance between yourself. “No thank you” you decline politely. “I prefer my brother over all”. Aemond only gives a sly grin at that, “Even in your bed?” he mocks.

What was stopping you from slapping this bastard from even suggesting such nonsense. You grit your teeth in frustration, almost hitting him yourself when a protective arm wraps around your waist bringing you back into a sturdy chest. “Who my sister brings into her bed is none of your concern dearest uncle” Jace says cooly. “And I suggest you refrain from using certain phrases that will bring the honor of my sister into question” he raises his brows at Aemond challenging him. “I’d hate to dislocate your jaw over some misunderstanding, we are family after all.”

One thing Aemond had learned from the beginning was Jace will never lose a chance to be your protective guard dog. He could hit two birds with one stone by simply choosing to pick on you instead. Why rile up one Strong bastard when you can rile up two? “I’d like to see you try” Aemond grins leaning in to challenge your brother.

“Jace” you whisper, “Don’t.” Aemond chuckles at your warning. “Aww will poor Prince Jace listen to his sister like an obedient mutt?” Jace clenches his jaw at his statement. “He isn’t worth it Jace” you interlock your fingers with Jacaerys’s trying to tug him away. Once you are able to move him from his spot, you lead Jace away and turn to Aemond to give him a disgusting sneer “You’re pathetic.”

Aemond's grin widens, his eye gleaming with amusement as he watches you walk away, Jace's hand still in yours. "Run along, little dove," he calls out mockingly, but you don't look back.

As you and Jace walk through the courtyard, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders. "You shouldn't let him get to you," you whisper, glancing up at him with a reassuring smile. "He only seeks to provoke."

Jace nods, but his grip on your waist tightens protectively. "I won't let him hurt you," he promises, his voice low and determined. "Not ever." You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. "I know, Jace. I know." You kiss his cheek gently hoping to calm him “No one can hurt me with you breathing down my neck” you giggle trying to lighten the mood.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “I won’t let any harm come to you ever. No one can hurt you.” His arms squeeze around your waist.

You always felt restless without Jace, and nothing brought you more comfort than being in his arms. You never have to worry about being safe with your brother around.

But years later when you crumble at the sight of the body of Jacaerys Velaryon with an arrow through his neck, no one is prepared for the wail of anguish that leaves your throat at not having your Jacaerys beside you anymore.

[venus-haze]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: A communication breakdown has unintended consequences, but it’s all because Homelander loves you.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on a request from @judyfromfinance and the ABBA song which is so Homelander coded. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, violence (not toward the reader). We love miscommunication for plot reasons here! Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander had no reason to believe you were hiding from him. Your job kept you busy, and ironically enough, working for the same company didn’t guarantee that you’d see each other nearly as much as he’d like. When his texts went unanswered and he couldn’t so much as hear you during the day, though, his mind went into overdrive presenting him with every worst case scenario it could possibly conceive of.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

His gloved hands balled into fists at his side. You would never cheat on him. He knew that. He did. But sometimes, it seemed like your heart didn’t ache for him the way his did for yours. You had a life outside of him, and as much as you tried to include him in it, he resisted. Things would be easier if it were just the two of you.

Trying your phone again, he called you, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Give me a call back as soon as you can. I love you,” he said, adding a quick. “Call me back" for emphasis.

He groaned, throwing his phone aside and folding his arms over his chest. It was fine. He didn’t care that much anyway. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced at his discarded phone every few seconds in hopes you’d call or text back. No dice.

As a last resort, he headed to the crime analytics department. You managed a small team of analysts who consulted with the state and federal government on Vought’s behalf. The two of you had met when Vought was trying to get supes in the military, and as far as Homelander was concerned, it was love at first sight.

Never mind that it took a few weeks to win you over, frustratingly committed to your job and hesitant to date a coworker. Even though he’d hardly consider the two of you coworkers. Sure, you both worked for Vought, but that was it as far as he was concerned. In his determination to woo you, he’d made some valuable connections in your department. At least, people who he knew would have some kind of scoop on you when he needed it.

“Hey Annika,” Homelander said, startling the young crime analyst as he approached her desk. “How’re you doing, pal?

“Hi Homelander,” she said, not quite able to keep eye contact with him. “Sir. I’m good. H-How are you?”

“You haven’t seen Y/N around today, have you?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” he said tensely, a painfully fake smile spreading across his face. “Keep up the good work.”

His smile faltered as he heard your name come up in a conversation on the other side of the room. A masculine voice, younger than his, far too much mirth for his liking when he spoke about you.

“Dude, I was in Y/N’s office for like an hour yesterday. I could barely concentrate. They are so fine.”

“You’re insane,” someone else laughed.

“What? Have you seen them?”

“They’re dating Homelander, dumbass.”

“Whatever. It won’t last. He and Maeve will get back together, and yours truly will be there to pick up the pieces.”

“If you say so.”

Homelander hadn’t noticed his eyes glowing red until Annika squeaked. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he looked at his…acquaintance.

“See you around,” he said, his chipper tone clearly strained.

Since you weren’t answering your phone and he still had no clue where you were, Homelander had all the time in the world to wait around for your sleazy subordinate to take a bathroom break. He wondered if you were aware of the man’s interest in you. It was a possibility, but he had to assure himself that you wouldn’t do anything to encourage it. He knew you wouldn’t bother with a miscreant like that, of all people, but the point needed to be made. No one could speak so vulgarly about you and expect him not to do something about it.

Fifteen minutes or so had passed, and Homelander spotted his name badge. Josh.

“Hey Josh! You have a minute, buddy?” Homelander asked, voice booming through the hallway, causing Josh to flinch. Homelander smirked a bit.

“Homelander! Is there something you need?”

“Yeah, actually, I just have a question about the crime analytics office.”

Josh nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there?”

“Wh-What?”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there? Maybe a keg and some drunk idiots wearing togas?”

“I don’t—“

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why were you in there talking about my partner like you were in a fucking frat house?” Homelander asked, cornering the slimy analyst. “You know Y/N and I are dating, right? Your idiot friend told you as much.”

Josh’s mouth flopped open and closed like one of the disgusting fish The Deep crusaded for. “I—I didn’t mean—“

“So either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish. Which one is it, buddy?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Homelander.”

Homelander chuckled, empty and hollow, reveling in the way he could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man in front of him. “You will be.”

With the way Josh was carrying on, Homelander would’ve thought he’d actually killed the guy. All he’d done was snap his arm and throw an elbow to his nose. He’d just bought the asshole a free rhinoplasty, far more generous than he deserved after what he did. 

Homelander sneered at the blubbering crime analyst, work shirt covered in his own blood. Pathetic, really. And he had the audacity to act like he was worthy of you. Throwing one final glare Josh’s way, Homelander walked off, wiping the blood off his gloves and onto his suit. It could be dry-cleaned out.

The outburst made him feel better than he had all day, though it didn’t answer the question of where the hell you were and why you weren’t answering him. Besides, he swore he heard the familiar sound of your footfall in the lobby. 

He supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if you came back to see one of your subordinates brutalized in the hallway. Just his luck, he spotted an intern in one of the unoccupied offices.

“Hey,” Homelander said, pausing a moment to read the intern’s badge, “Sammy, there’s a mess over by the crime analytics office, can you get someone to clean it up?” 

“Sure,” Sammy responded cheerfully.

“Thanks, it’s the little things that make this place run. You’re doing great,” he complimented, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Sammy returned his smile, obviously not questioning his sincerity. Homelander knew if he framed the whole thing as a favor, she’d be more likely to follow through. It was always good to have reliable people in his back pocket for things like that, worker bees who thought they were friends or something. She walked off, strides purposeful as she set off to complete her personal mission from Homelander.

Rushing over to the elevator, he listened for you, getting out on the fifteenth floor where he saw you just as you walked out of the bathroom. 

As soon as he made eye contact, he melted, making a beeline for you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Homelander. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Where were you?” he asked, almost painfully returning your embrace.

“I told you I was presenting for the security council at the UN all day. No phones, remember?”

He huffed, releasing you from the hug. Fuck. “I guess—maybe that rings a bell. You shouldn’t tell me something so important while I’m distracted.”

“How much did you miss me?” you teased, holding up your pointer finger and thumb to pinch the air. “This much?” You spread your fingers wider. “This much?” Wider again, except before you could ask, Homelander scooped you up in his arms.

“Why don’t I show you?”

“Please do,” you said, tilting your head up to kiss him.

He retreated into the elevator with you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss laced with longing. You giggled at him. You’d only been gone for a few hours, yet he was acting as though it had been days. 

You missed him too, resolving to focus your attention on him for the rest of the night.

Until your phone rang.

“I should get this.”

“Now you’re able to pick up a call?” he grumbled, setting you down.

“One minute,” you whispered, grabbing your phone, “then I’m all yours.”

He pressed the button to his suite, having forgotten to do so in the heat of passion. “You better be.”

You picked up your phone, amused at Homelander still clinging to you, kissing your neck. “Hello?”

“Josh from crime analytics?” you asked, tensing a bit when Homelander grazed his teeth on the crook of your neck. “I haven’t heard from him since he gave me the homicide report yesterday.”

Homelander hummed against your skin, and you let out a whimper only he could hear at the way it vibrated through you. He was smug, and it took you a moment to piece together why.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow,” you said before hanging up. “What did you do?”

“Something chivalrous to defend your honor,” he mumbled, his lips unrelenting on your shoulder as he pulled your shirt down to expose it.

“I guess I should thank you properly, then? My knight in shining armor?”

He lifted his head, grinning, “If you insist.”

[thef1diary]

Love Unwrapped | L. Norris

Summary: after mutually breaking up, you and Lando drifted apart. However, on your birthday, Lando shows up unexpectedly with a gift, reigniting old feelings.

— part of the Birthday Bash fics

warnings: angst if you squint, fluff.

pairing: lando x fem!ex!reader

wc: 1.6k

main masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

As you sit alone in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of the moonlight casting dancing shadows on the walls, you can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. It's your birthday, but this year feels different somehow—empty, without the usual excitement and celebration.

Just as you resign yourself to a quiet night in, there's a sudden knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts. Surprised, you glance at the clock. Who could it be at this hour?

Opening the door reveals a familiar figure standing on your doorstep, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's Lando, holding a small gift bag in his hand and a larger bag in the other.

"Hey," he says, his voice warm yet tentative. "Happy birthday."

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. "Lando? You remembered?"

He chuckles softly, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Of course I did. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Mind if I come in?"

You step aside, allowing him entry into your humble abode. "Of course, come on in."

As Lando enters, you can't help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance—the confidence in his posture, the newfound ease in his smile. It's as if he's grown in the time since you last saw him, even if it was just one month ago.

"Take a seat," you offer, gesturing towards the couch. "Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?"

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, thanks. I'm good."

You both settle onto the couch, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thick fog. It feels like it's been so long since you've been alone together like this, and the unfamiliarity of the situation is palpable.

"So, um, how have you been?" Lando finally breaks the silence, his voice hesitant.

You sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness flooding through you. "I've been okay, I guess. Just trying to keep busy with work and stuff. How about you?"

He nods, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, same here. Work's been keeping me pretty occupied."

You nod but hold back on mentioning that you have been following his season in Formula One, watching every race despite the ungodly hours it required you to wake up at.

The conversation falls into a comfortable rhythm as you catch up on each other's lives, sharing stories and laughter like old times. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there's a sense of familiarity between you that refuses to fade.

Suddenly, Lando reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a neatly wrapped box, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, got you something."

Your eyes widen in surprise as he hands you the gift. "You didn't have to," you mumble, aching to tell him that his presence was enough.

"Open it."

With trembling hands, you carefully unwrap the gift, your heart pounding in anticipation. When you finally open the box, you're met with the sight of something you've always wanted—beautiful dainty necklace adorned with smaller diamonds, one that you'd admired countless times in the store but could never bring yourself to buy.

You've been saving up for this dainty piece for a while, but never expected that Lando would give it to you as a gift.

You're speechless, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. Lando watches you anxiously, waiting for your reaction.

Finally, you manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, this is... It's amazing, thank you.”

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can't quite place. "I saw you staring at it at the store a while back, so I thought this would be the right moment to get it for you."

You're overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, by the fact that he remembered something so small yet meaningful. It's a reminder of why you fell for him in the first place.

"You know," Lando begins, his voice soft but filled with sincerity, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately... about us."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, uncertainty mingling with anticipation in the air between you. "Oh? What about us?"

He shifts slightly on the couch, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I miss what we had," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken longing. "The late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way we just... fit together."

You swallow hard, the memories of your time together flooding back with startling clarity. "I miss those things too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando reaches out, his hand finding yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign. "I know we said we'd remain friends," he says, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, "but... I can't shake the feeling that there's still something between us. Something worth fighting for."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and uncertainty. For a moment, neither of you knows what to say, the silence stretching on uncomfortably.

He wasn't wrong, you had parted as a couple but still promised to remain friends. That promise was left unfulfilled because of your different lives taking you on different paths. It was the reason why you had broken up in the first place.

Then, you gather your courage, meeting his gaze with determination. "I feel it too," you confess, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "But... I'm scared, Lando. Scared of our love not being enough for each other again."

Lando nods in understanding, his eyes filled with empathy as he squeezes your hand gently. "I know," he murmurs. "But maybe... maybe we can take things slow this time. See where it leads us."

The idea fills you with both excitement and trepidation, the prospect of rekindling your relationship mingling with the fear of repeating past events. But as you sit there together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things will be different.

As the night wears on, the comforting embrace of conversation wraps around you and Lando like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had lingered in the air.

The soft flicker of birthday candles illuminates the room as he holds the cake for you, waiting for you to make a wish and blow it out.

You look at him before closing your eyes, already knowing what you want to wish for before blowing out the few lit candles in one quick breath.

You say, "I can't believe you got me a cake," as you cut into the rich chocolate cake and give him a slice on a plate before taking one for yourself.

Lando chuckles, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Of course I did. After all, what's a birthday without cake?"

You smile, the sweetness of the gesture warming your heart. "It's delicious. Thank you, Lan." The nickname easily slips from your tongue, as if you never stopped saying it, and his heart warms knowing the feeling of familiarity never died down.

As you continue to talk and laugh, the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to midnight, marking the end of your birthday. But for now, in the glow of moonlight and the warmth of Lando's company, time seems to stand still.

Eventually, the inevitable moment arrives when Lando has to leave. You walk him to the door, the weight of the conversation earlier hanging heavy in the air between you.

Lando turns to face you, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I don't want to rush things," he begins, his voice soft but determined, "but I also don't want to let this chance slip away."

You nod, meeting his gaze with hope, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "I don't either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle smile, Lando reaches out and cups your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. His thumb brushes against your lips, feeling the softness he desperately wants to feel against his own lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice still soft in fear of ruining the moment. Placing your palm on his cheek, you nod.

Without wasting another moment, he closes the gap between you, placing his lips on yours.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you standing there in the middle of your apartment, joined by the shimmering moonlight. As you fall back into the familiarity of his lips on yours, you realize that this is where you belong—here, in Lando's arms.

It's a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a kiss that speaks of new beginnings and endless love.

When you finally pull away, your heart is pounding in your chest, the warmth of Lando's lips lingering on yours like a sweet memory.

"I'll give you some space to think about it," he says, his thumb brushing against your skin in a tender caress. "But just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready.”

You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. But as you watch him leave your apartment, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips—a smile filled with hope for the future, and the possibility of love rekindled.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @oliviah-25 @regalbanshee

[harrysfolklore]

ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

[merlieve]

bibliophile :: jess mariano

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 & 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Note: i wrote this while listening to “si tu m’aimes demain’ by iliona + the intro is inspired by 500 days of summer, so that’s basically the vibe of the story 😋 Ik there isn’t a market for GG fics but I just love me some Jess.

SUMMARY | Jess says something about how it’s a shame that people arent as beautiful and interesting as books, but he looks at [Name] and realizes that she could be the only person who could be compared to the books he loves.

The soft glow of Luke’s Diner’s sign casts a warm ambience onto the quiet street, the last remnants of daylight as it settles to the night sky.

Inside, the diner was practically buzzing with people, the sounds of plate clattering and a few conversations filled the air.

Ring. The sound of someone coming inside alerted Jess but he didn’t bother to stand up from the bar stool.

“The Old Man and the Sea? I love Hemingway!”

Jess was so caught up in his world that he failed to notice the girl seated next to him at the diner countertop. “Excuse me?”

“I said I love Hemingway,” She repeated, now gaining Jess’ full attention. “You have good taste in books.”

“Thanks, uhh?” — “[Name]” The girl said with a smile. ‘A pretty name for a pretty face’ thought Jess, looking at the girl beside him up and down.

“If you read Hemingway, I’d suggest Bukowski if you’re into poetry.” She recommended, looking down at her nails as she was slightly nervous by the way the boy was looking at her.

“I take it you like classics.” Said Jess, putting down his book.

“Oh, I like any genre! Mystery, historical, sci-fi… you name it.” Smiled [Name] as she rambled about her interests.

Jess found it adorable. “Quite the bibliophile, aren’t ya?”

“Guess you could say that, stranger.”

He was just about to ask for her number when someone came behind the counter.

“Jess, your break’s over.” Said Luke, glancing over the teenagers in front of him.

“Well, duty calls.” Sassed Jess, grabbing his book by the counter but not without giving the girl a wink. “Bye, stranger.”

Ever since that day, Jess couldn’t seem to get [Name] out of his mind and it didn’t help that she was everywhere; the quaint bookstore, at school, the library, even at the Walmart he works at, and that’s at Hartford!

If Jess had learned anything by being [Name]’s friend is that he knew that the way to her heart was to challenge her.

The two could make a conversation about just about anything, whether it was debating the end of The Bell Jar or trying to find the best coffee place in New Haven.

When she talked about her favourite books, Jess had the time of his life listening to the passion in her voice. And it wasn’t only him. Whenever Jess talks, [Name] sounds like she’s actually interested in whatever he’s talking about.

They’d exchange books, they’d lend each other books and return them fully annotated with their own opinions. They’d have study dates after school, which skyrocketed Jess’ grades by a ton and he even helped [Name] out with her AP classes. They’d go to each other’s houses to have movie nights, [Name] would pick some kind of chick-flick and he’d be “mad” at first and then grow on to love it.

Every time he spent time with her, his blooming crush would only grow and grow. At some point, he realised that his feelings for [Name] went beyond simple platonic attraction and not only did that scare him from having a genuine friend at Stars Hollow but it was how he couldn’t contain it.

Not to mention, Luke started to get sceptical when Jess said he was going to school. Since when did Jess actually go to school?

“I’m leaving!” Shouted Jess with a book bag slung across his shoulder as he closed the door.

Luke’s curiosity got the best of him and he followed Jess to a house. He knew it, Jess was lying, again. But right before he was about to reprimand him, a girl who seemed about Jess’ age walked out of the house, she looked a little familiar.

The two seemed to talk to each other for a bit before walking back… in Luke’s direction.

Luke had no choice but to hide in the prickly bushes to remain hidden from his nephew’s sight… ouch.

Later that Day

“Why’d you got a bandaid on your nose?” Asked Jess, referring to Luke’s earlier injury.

“It’s nothi- just shut up.” Challenged Luke as he walked over to refill a few coffee mugs.

A few hours passed until closing time and the diner was starting to get empty. Just when Luke was about to clean the countertops, the front door opened. It was the same girl Jess was with before.

She approached the counter with a friendly smile, the kind of smile Luke hadn't seen in a while.

"Hi, is Jess here?" Asked [Name], her eyes wandered around the diner.

Almost on cue, Jess walks out of the kitchen and greets the girl with a smile. “Oh, great. Are we throwing a fiesta or organising a pity party? 'Cause, you know, I'm just on the edge of my seat here.” Babbled Jess.

"Jess, I got a 95 on AP Bio!" The girl excitedly says, holding a paper in the air. "Really? Let me see," he replies, walking over to her.

“What, you don’t believe me? Well, it’s there and it’s in a big red mark with the words ‘Fantastic’!” She eagerly hands it over, her eyes shining with pride.

“Look at that, Ms. Fantastic,” Smiled Jess as he looked over her paper. “You hungry? It’s Danish day. C’mon it’ll be my treat.”

After hearing the news, [Name] gasped, “It’s like the stars were aligned” She giggled, taking a seat at the nearby table.

Once Jess walked over to the counter to grab a freshly cooked Danish, Luke cornered the boy.

"So, what's the deal with you and that girl?” he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Jess shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Just helping her out with her AP classes. Turns out, I’ve got a brain in this pretty little head of mine."

Luke raised an eyebrow sceptically. "And since when did you become the tutor type?"

Jess rolled his eyes, “I like her, she reads Hemingway.” He said as he looked at [Name] who was still walking on cloud nine.

Luke nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "She’s a good influence on you, kid. Don’t screw this one up, okay?"

Jess scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to maintain."

[reiderwriter]

If your requests are open could I get a fic where Spencer lost his virginity to bau!reader the night before and when he comes into work the next day Morgan is like ‘you look different’ (you know that stereotype that people you know well can tell when you lose your virginity) and bau!reader is like yeah you do why is that Spencer🤨 lmaoo

A/N: This was a really fun request to write! Nice, short and sweet! I hope you enjoy it~♡

Warnings: implied sexual encounter, some suggestive talk, mentions of virginity.

Masterlist || Song Fic Challenge

“Wait, kid, hold up, something’s different. You get a haircut or what?” 

You tried your best not to giggle profusely as the blush crept up Spencer’s neck to sit prettily across his cheeks. It had only been an hour since you'd left him sleeping soundly in your bed after a night of well… ravaging him. 

Spencer Reid, your beautiful, awkward, nerdy, and charming coworker was no longer a virgin. Nor was he single. And surprisingly, he wasn't all that bad at sex either, a little cautious, but for all intents and purposes, quite the natural. 

He certainly hadn't turned into a sex god over night, but you did plan to accost him rather regularly from that point onwards, so you very much were enjoying the abject look of horror passing over his features at that moment. 

“I was running late this morning. My alarm didn't go off.” 

You stifled a giggle, knowing that his alarm probably had gone off. He'd just been in a completely different apartment and hadn't heard it. Maybe it was still going off now. 

When his eye caught yours, he froze still in a flush. It was impossible not to run tour gaze along the length of his body, showing him enough quiet appreciation you thought he'd drop to his knees. 

Instead, his hands that were wrestling with his tie fidgeted more, finding it impossible to tie the damn thing like he had every morning for the last five years. 

“Having some trouble, Spencer? Maybe I could help you out?” You winked at him to punctuate your question, and all he could do was stand and gulp down a breath, nodding in agreement. 

“You do look pretty tired, kid? Long night?” Derek asked, a quiet bemused look hanging on his face. He'd had this same conversation with Reid at least four times in the last year, assuming that every time he came in looking slightly dishevelled, he'd enjoyed a night of pleasure. 

It had certainly been pleasing to you, and you were absolutely going to help teasing Reid if you got the chance. You certainly enjoyed doing just that last night. 

Grabbing the two ends of his tie and pulling him a step closer to Reid - maybe a bit too close for two people in their place of work - you began righting all of his clothes. 

“You didn't wake me up,” he whispered with a pout into your ear, his pout audible even as he tried to keep his face neutral. 

“I tried,” you whispered back. “But every time I got close, you lunged for me in your sleep and started grinding your morning wood into my ass.” 

The flush that you enjoyed so much was now a fully glowing face. He was so red you expected steam to pour from his ears any minute. 

You finish knotting his tie and brush his shirt a little, just as Derek clears his throat again. 

“Kid, did you hear me? I asked if you had a long night.” 

Spencer's gaze didn't leave yours, though. Even in his embarrassment, he was so intently focused on you that it nearly set your entire body on edge. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, his gaze dropping to your lips. You wished they hadn't, because now you had to stop yourself from jumping him right there in the bull pen. 

“Oh shit,” Derek couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest as he stood looking from you to Spencer and then back to you. 

“Oh shit. Spencer, I didn't know you had game like that.” His words were wheezed out between fits of laughter, and you were irritated when the focus in Spencer's gaze shattered, settling into a look of discontent. 

“Derek, come on…” he groaned, and you put your hand gently on his chest to get him to look at you again. 

“Next time, I'll work my hardest to wake you up, Spencer.” 

With his jaw hanging open in shock, you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving him stood like a statue as Derek bent over in laughter, trying to catch his breath. 

You smiled in your final triumph just as Emily walked over to greet the two men and opened with a question. 

“Weren't you wearing that outfit yesterday, Reid?”  

[pastryfication]

Maybe pre wedding jitters with Nicole? She kind of steps in as your own mom for the day and reassures you that you're right for Oscar?

pre wedding jitters

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: thank you so much for requesting this!! nicole would absolutely be the best mother in law

the soft morning light spills through the delicate curtains of the bridal suite, casting a warm glow over the room. you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection in the dress you spent months dreaming about. the lace hugs your figure perfectly, the silk skirt flowing around you just as it’s supposed to. it’s everything you wanted, yet as you stand there, it all feels so overwhelming. today, you’re marrying oscar piastri—the man who’s been your best friend, your rock, and your biggest supporter for the last years.

but as the moments tick by, nerves begin to creep in. your heart races, your hands feel clammy, and suddenly, the reality of it all starts to weigh on you. you stare at your reflection, fidgeting with the delicate necklace oscar gave you on your last anniversary, feeling a wave of doubt you can’t quite shake.

the door creaks open softly, and you expect to see your mom or one of your bridesmaids, but instead, it’s nicole, oscar’s mom. she steps inside quietly, her face lighting up the moment she sees you. she’s always been more than just oscar’s mom to you—she’s been someone you’ve looked up to, someone who welcomed you into the family with open arms from the very start.

she immediately picks up on your nerves, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands and staring at yourself with uncertainty. she crosses the room, her steps quick and purposeful, and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “hey, you look absolutely stunning,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “oscar is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

you smile, but it’s wobbly, and you can feel the tears threatening to spill. “thank you, nicole. i’m just... i don’t know why i’m so nervous. i’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now that it’s here, i’m suddenly terrified.”

nicole guides you to the chair by the window, sitting down beside you and holding your hand tightly in hers. “sweetheart, it’s completely normal to feel like this. this is a huge moment, and it’s okay to have a little freak-out.”

you nod, looking down at your lap. “i just keep thinking... what if i’m not enough? what if something goes wrong today, or what if—” you pause, the words getting stuck in your throat. “i love him so much. i just want everything to be perfect for him.”

nicole’s expression softens, and she squeezes your hand, her grip both comforting and strong. “you are more than enough. oscar has loved you since the moment he met you. i’ve never seen him light up the way he does when you’re around. you bring out this side of him that’s so pure, so full of joy. he’s happier, calmer, and more himself with you than i’ve ever seen him.”

she looks at you with a fond smile, her eyes brimming with affection. “i remember him calling me after your first date—he couldn’t stop talking about you. he’d found this person who got him, who made him laugh, who understood him in a way no one else ever had. and it wasn’t just how much fun you had together, it was how deeply he respected you, how much he admired the way you saw the world. he told me then, ‘mum, she’s the one,’ and he meant it with every part of his heart.”

tears slip down your cheeks as you listen, overwhelmed by the love nicole’s words carry. you always knew oscar loved you, but hearing it like this, from his mother, makes it feel even more real.

“and it’s not just that he loves you,” nicole continues, her voice full of certainty. “he’s proud of you. every time you accomplish something, he’s right there cheering you on, bragging to anyone who will listen. when you’re sad, he’s the first to comfort you. when you’re happy, his whole world lights up. he would do anything for you, and you would do the same for him. i don’t think he’s ever been surer of anything in his life than wanting to spend it with you.”

you take a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of nicole’s words seep into your heart. “i just . . . i can’t believe i get to have this. i can’t believe i get to have him.”

nicole smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “believe it, because he feels the same way. you’re his world. and today, when he sees you walking down that aisle, he’s going to be reminded of every reason why he fell in love with you. you make each other better, and everyone can see it.”

you laugh softly, a mixture of nerves and overwhelming happiness. “i feel like the luckiest person in the world.”

nicole pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “you two are so right for each other, and i’m so glad you found each other. this is just the start of a beautiful life together.”

as you pull away, nicole gives you a reassuring smile. “oscar is the luckiest man, and he knows it. he’s never loved anyone the way he loves you, and he never will. you’re his person.”

and as you look at yourself in the mirror one last time, the nerves are still there, but they’re quieter now, overshadowed by the joy of knowing you’re marrying a man who loves you more deeply than you ever thought possible. today is the day you get to say ‘i do’ to your best friend, and as you walk out of the room, you know you’re walking toward the greatest adventure of your life—with oscar by your side, forever and ever and always.

[landosjpg]

the black dog | ln

the one where you watch your ex boyfriend walk into some bar called the black dog.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.9k

warnings: angst!!!!, happy ending so fluff as well, brief discussion of bad mental health, lando is a bit of a prick at some point, exes to lovers, one sexual innuendo (?)

note: based on this request and obviously the black dog by taylor swift. this is one of my favorite taylor songs EVER i got so excited when i got this request. i also love a good angsty, heart-breaking fic so giving this a happy ending was a bit harder than it should’ve but i hope you enjoy it!

“stop that,” you softly cooed, your hands cupping his cheeks to try and make him look at you.

the past few weeks had been harsh on him, and you could feel how every self-deprecating comment just made him drown deeper into his own head. you just wanted the best for him.

he didn’t answer. instead, he looked away again, trying his best to avoid your gaze at all costs.

“it’s just been a bad weekend, baby. next one will be better,” you added.

“stop with the optimistic bullshit,” he rudely said before you could add anything else to try and cheer him up.

you knew he was angry —rightfully so —after missing on a potential win only a few days before, but you couldn’t just sit and watch him bring himself down anymore.

“it just hurts to see you like this,” you mumbled.

“it’s hurting you?” he snapped, his tone accusing. “why do you have to make everything about you, every single time?”

as his words escaped his lips, he gently pushed you off his lap, immediately getting up from the couch.

“i’m just saying…” you tried to explain, although his words hurt more than you would ever admit out loud.

“i don’t care what you’re saying,” he cut you off. “it’s always the same story with you. the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, you know?”

your lips parted, intending to defend yourself, but no words left your mouth. not like lando would had let you speak, anyway.

“this is the last thing i need right now, i’m done here,” he grumbled.

you froze at the tone of his voice, not having heard him talking to you like that ever before. and you didn’t do anything to stop him when he picked up his jacket and walked to the entrance of your apartment, announcing his departure with a loud slam of the front door.

he just needed time, you told yourself.

but he didn’t call, and you didn’t wake up to a simple apology in your messages and him asking to see you as you were used to.

and it had been forty-two days since he had stormed out of your apartment and, unknowingly to you, vowed to never talk to you again.

and after six weeks of no contact, you still missed him.

lando had been more than just your boyfriend, he had been your best friend for as long as you could remember; he was there, in every little memory you had.

you had always been the first person he ran to whenever the smallest thing happened, and for the past few weeks you had to settle for watching his life go on without you through pictures and media outlets.

and as much as your friends tried to tell you that it would get better, every morning without him just got harder than the previous one; used to having his arms wrapped all around you and his curls tickling your neck, waking up in a cold bed was certainly something you weren’t quite fond of.

however, he seemed to be moving on.

that’s what you thought as you sat in the darkness of your room, the only light illuminating the space being the dim glow of your phone’s screen as you intently watched the small, blue dot moving on your screen.

he had forgotten to turn his location off.

like every weekend since the break up, you watched him walk into some random bar in a different city, piercing a new, deeper hole in your heart every time. and you couldn’t help but hope that they played your song each night, that even the smallest thing reminded him of you.

but instead, every morning you woke up to a new picture of him leaving the place with some girl wrapped around his arm, while you could barely wear your favorite clothes because they took you back to a memory you shared with him.

you didn’t understand how he didn’t miss you, how he could be doing so good without you by his side.

୨୧

it had never been his intention to walk out of your life that afternoon. but when the anger washed away, all he could feel was shame.

guilt, for how he had talked to you when all you wanted was to help. and he wasn’t sure he could ever look at you in the eyes without the feeling overfilling his senses. so, instead, he did what he knew best: he ran away.

and the only thing that could take you off his mind for some time was drowning his own pain in alcohol every weekend, end the night with some girl’s legs wrapped around him.

but that night, he froze as the first notes of your song started playing; the song that had started playing when you got in his car the first time he took you out on a proper date. and the upbeat music took him right back to that day.

he could still picture the sight of your teary eyes as you walked into his apartment after another failed date —the guy hadn’t even showed up; the sound of your sobs as you buried your face on his chest, looking for some comfort, still making his heart clench.

“you deserve better,” he had whispered into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. “someone who’s willing to give you everything.”

“i’m tired of searching,” you had simply mumbled, feeling hopeless after so many disappointments.

“maybe you don’t have to search for it,” he had said before he could even think about his words. “maybe it’s been right in front of your nose all this time.”

at the underlying confession of his words, you raised your head from his chest to look up at him.

“hm?” you hummed.

lando had always liked you; but he had also been scared of you not reciprocating his feelings, of your friendship being ruined by the love he had for you. however, he had been completely oblivious as to the way you had always looked at him.

but that time, he caught the glint in your eyes as his gaze met yours, and so he confidently asked:

“can i take you out on a date?”

he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he saw you crack a smile, relief washing all over him.

“i would love to,” you mumbled.

he smiled at your reply, his thumbs coming up to wipe the remains of your tears.

“tonight, then?” he softly kissed your cheek before you nodded and wrapped your arms around his frame, unknowing of how the turn your relationship would take after that night.

he looked down at the girl who was grinding herself against him, trying to ignore the memories flooding his mind; but her eyes didn’t sparkle the way yours did as the song played. and he knew she just wouldn’t get the jokes he was so tempted to make, the ones that would send you into a fist of laughter despite of the many times you had heard them before.

in short, she simply wasn’t you. and he knew he wouldn’t ever feel that way with someone else.

“excuse me,” he said, trying to push her away from him.

he made his way out of the bar pushing in between the sea of people, his phone clutched in his hand the second he stepped a foot outside.

he sighed as he looked at his screen, the cool air making him come back to his senses; he couldn’t just text you. not after ghosting you for over a month.

but he missed you, so what else could he do? how else could he apologize for what he did?

୨୧

you turned around in bed as you felt the room being illuminated again by the screen of your phone, a message interrupting your attempt to sleep.

your heart skipped a beat as you saw his contact picture, followed by a simple “are you up?”. you couldn’t believe your eyes, anxiety coursing through your veins as you stared at the message.

“you still have read receipts on”

“say something, please”

fuck, of course. and you had been staring at his text for five minutes straight.

“what?” you simply typed with shaky fingers; it was dry, yes, but you were still hurt about how things ended between the two of you.

his answer came almost immediately: “just wanted to apologize” it read.

but nothing could’ve prepared you for his next message, asking if he could come over instead of doing so over text.

you hesitated for a few minutes; you knew you shouldn’t, but you needed closure as well.

so, naturally, you accepted.

you anxiously padded around your house as you waited for him, biting your nails as you imagined every possible scenario that could happen. five. ten. fifteen minutes, and then you heard a knock on the door.

the door opened slowly, revealing the figure of your ex-boyfriend.

you stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him and turning around with your gaze fixed on the floor. the silence was deafening,and the situation felt awkward.

“can i have some water?” lando tried to break the ice, his eyes fixed on you as you simply nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

when you came back only a few minutes later with two glasses on your hands, he had made himself comfortable. you walked to the couch and sat next to him, with a considerable distance between the two of you.

“i just…” he broke the silence again, his voice low and slightly nervous. you didn’t dare look at him yet, so you looked down at your lap, where you fidgeted with your fingers.

you heard him sigh as he chose his next words carefully.

“i never meant to hurt you, or ruin what we had,” lando started. “it was a few bad weeks, and i know i shouldn’t have, but i took it all out on you. and then i didn’t think i could even look you in the face after what i said.”

you looked up at him, your eyes starting to water as you took in his words.

“you could’ve just explained yourself, i would’ve understood,” you replied with a thin, vulnerable voice.

“i was ashamed of myself after the fight and i thought running away from all of it would be the best,” he said as his gaze met yours. “truth is i haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single minute all this time. i really miss you,” he almost whispered.

“i…” you stuttered.

“i get it if you can’t forgive me,” his voice broke mid-sentence.

“‘s not that,” you mumbled, a few tears running down your cheeks. “just wish it didn’t take you this long.”

you noticed his pained expression as he noticed the tears on your face, quickly whispering a soft “c’mere” as he opened his arms. you sighed and scooped next to him, letting his arms wrap around your frame in a comforting hug.

“i’m really sorry,” you heard him whisper into your hair before he planted a gentle kiss on top of your head. “i won’t leave again.”

“promise?” you murmured, snuggling closer into his embrace.

“promise, baby,” he answered in the same low voice.

you nodded slightly, your eyes fluttering close as you took in his scent and the way his grip on you tightened, an oath to never let you go again.

[sinsofsummers]

sensational; part iii

6.1k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader part one | part two

summary: joel continues teaching you everything you need to know about desire. warnings: smut smut smut, 18+, mdni. yearning, teasing, thigh-sitting, grinding, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), fingers in mouth, joel almost loses control, age gap (reader is 25, joel is 56). i think that's everything. suchhhh impaired(drunk) editing. i'm so osrry. note: here it is. about a week later than i had planned. but i turned 21. cut me some slack HAHAHHAHA i hope you enjoy this unintentional third part to sensational! note: special shoutout to @cavillscurls bc she not only requested that joel call reader "babygirl" at least once but also that there be some aftercare so....this one's all for u pretty girl i hope your day is an easy one <3 ty for being my very first friend on here wahhh

Joel was used to the chill in his bones. It had been there since his thirty-sixth birthday, and had hardly begun to slip away until he'd met that quiet girl with a fiery spirit like his daughter. Ellie had made the icy tension thaw, and then he met her, the woman who'd begun to melt his very insides.

Was it her curiosity that was so...endearing? Astute? An inevitable addition to his patrols with her? Or was it the fact that she'd begun to smile when she saw him, if only a tight-lipped grin that emitted a soft glow like a secret shared with whispers?

He wasn't quite sure he even wanted to know what it was that had him hardening at the sight of her. So instead of thinking about it—something he wasn't very good at, anyway—Joel returned to his current position in the present moment.

He was on horseback, his gloved hands tightened on the reins, and she was perched in front of him, her back pressed gingerly to his chest and her thighs warming the insides of his.

Joel's mind wandered to the morality of his intentions, as they usually did when she was this close to him. What's she want with you, old man? That voice loved to pester him all day long, but he shoved it away this time when he pretended to adjust his hands on the reins. The movement made his arms tense around her frame, and other than her head tilting back to nudge his chin, there was no response. He thanked the horse for its strong, rocking movements that kept her body tense and pressed into his.

This girl is gonna be the death of me, he mused. And what a painless death it would be.

—

Despite the fact that you were entirely okay with this turn of events, you couldn't ignore the instinctual worry that bit at your insides. When you'd shown up at the stables that morning, Joel had already arrived, leading his horse by the reins.

"C'mon, doll," he said in that rough morning voice that was so attractive. "You're ridin' with me today."

Your brows had furrowed, and you looked toward the stables. "What about—"

Joel had shaken his head and held out a gloved hand for you. "Your horse is no good today," he said (with a less-than-convincing note of sorrow in his voice, but why would he show emotion for once in his life?), clearing his throat before finishing, "just you, me, and this one today," with a nod to his horse.

"Is he gonna be okay?" you asked as you took his hand, the heavy weight of his grip returning to you as a comfort now. "What's wrong with him?" He led you forward, but you couldn't help glancing back once more as if you were a kid getting dragged away by her parents from a candy store.

He squeezed your hand and smiled softly at you. "Gimme your hands, sweet girl," he murmured.

You obeyed without a second thought and let him help you up, the winter wind whipped around your hair despite it being trapped in your usual knit hat. His hands tightened around your hips as he booted you up, and you mourned the moment they left your body. Of course, that sensation didn't last long; he clambered up and mounted right behind you.

Oh. You hadn't considered that this would be the solution to your horse being incapable of patrolling today. Maybe this won't be so bad, you thought, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the chill. You let out a shaky breath at the press of his chest against your back.

"My horse?" you asked once more, despite not quite caring anymore; his arms were now enveloping you as he began making his way to the edges of Jackson.

His sigh created a brief cloud of mist in the wintry air, and the vibrations of his voice rumbled through your body. "Broken leg," he explained quietly, and you felt more than heard his words.

You wanted nothing more than to let yourself sink into the feeling of being so close to him like this, with your hips nestled right in front of his pelvis (a fact that was bound to distract you soon enough), but you forced yourself to inquire a final time.

"A broken leg?" you said. You didn't mean for it to come off as disbelieving, but...your mount had been just fine the day before.

Joel shrugged and instead of answering, he leaned in closer to your ear, his chapped lips scratching against the soft skin near your neck; your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. "Darlin'," he murmured, "don't you trust me?" One of his hands dropped the reins and curled around your middle, tugging you by the waist back into him. "I've got so much to teach you today."

The reminder that there was still more, that there was always more for Joel to teach you in the world of desire and sin...it was enough to have your mind going blank and your muscles relaxing at his touch. "Okay," you mumbled, not sure if he could even hear your answer.

His gloved hand moved up just a few inches before moving back to grab the reins, but you didn't miss the feeling (if only for a second) of his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your breasts.

You sighed gently and leaned back enough for your head to rest against his chest, your body full encased by his broad shoulders and burly arms. It was secure, it was safe, and the heady scent of leather and Joel nearly made your head spin. With all the possibilities of what he might want to teach you today, on patrol and so close to one another...you weren't sure you'd survive.

It was only a matter of time before your hands and mind completely lost their withering hold on social decorum.

—

Joel's composure was the first to slip, but you weren't far behind—of course, you'd never admit it to him. You'd made it about an hour outside of Jackson, your body rocking deliciously against his, and nothing but the wind to accompany your soft voices as you spoke.

"Those girls haven't bothered me anymore, you know," you said, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. You nearly choked at the sight of him already looking down at you, his mustache twitching with his lips in a curious smirk. "Not sure what made them stop, though."

"S'good," he said, his jaw clicking before he continued. "But you're like an open book, doll," he said, eyes flitting back to his surroundings. "I'm sure they could see it on your face."

You huffed, cheeks warming again. "See what exactly?"

Joel reached down with a hand to run his fingers along your thigh, creeping closer to where a puddle of desire was growing between your legs. You leaned your head against his chest again and let out a wanton sigh, wishing his hands would creep closer to where you needed him most.

"That," he said, voice lilting with a satisfied arrogance. "It's that sweet face you make when you're wantin' somethin' from me."

"I don't have a face," you mumbled, your arms looping around his biceps and hanging on to them. It's terribly domestic, a voice murmured in your head, but you shoved it away. "What are you talking about?"

Joel leaned his head down to yours, his mouth in your hair. You felt him smile against your skin and he cooed, "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, babygirl." He moved his hand to your thigh once more and chuckled into your hair when you rolled your hips back into his. "Just let me make you feel good, sweetheart."

You wanted nothing more than to sink into his soft touches and whine his name until he brought you to the edges of ecstasy again, but the winter wind howled in your ears and reminded you that you couldn't afford to lose all composure. There was a very real reason you were on patrol; it would have been irresponsible to indulge in the sweet pleasure of Joel's touch.

And yet—you couldn't help it when you lifted your chin and pressed a swift kiss to his jaw, hoping beyond hope that it might prompt him to touch you, to kiss you, to do anything to relieve the familiar ache that was growing. It was all you could do not to begin begging right then and there.

So when he suggested that the two of you take a pit stop at one of the old abandoned cabins along your route, you nodded feverishly. It's not irresponsible if we're taking proper precautions, you convinced yourself.

"C'mon, dollface," he murmured, pulling the reins to a halt in front of a dilapidated shack in the wintry landscape. "Can't hardly focus with you rubbin' up against me like that."

The breathless chuckle that you let out sounded nothing like yourself; you were giddy with the impending pleasure that was about to come from Joel's lips, his fingers, anything that he might deem useful in bringing you another crumbling orgasm.

You practically fell off the horse into his arms with your tingling excitement, and Joel chuckled as your chest collided with his. “So eager, darlin’,” he mused, adjusting your knit hat where it had fallen below your eyes. “Makin’ me feel so special with that sweet face,” he said, his large hand snaking around your back to support you as the two of you traipsed through the snow to the cabin. 

It was only a little alarming that his hands on your body were so familiar after just a few of his “lessons,” but you chose to ignore it and sink into the weight of his warm hands perforating your coat. “Joel,” you breathed, and you didn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. 

Joel pushed open the door to the cabin—it took a few tries; it was frozen shut—and tied up his mount. “C’mere,” he whispered as soon as the door was shut behind you. His lips were on yours before you could suck in a breath of anticipation, and oh, how you loved the scrape of his chapped lips against your skin when he moved to press kisses to the line of your jaw. 

“Been thinkin’ of you, dollface,” he mumbled when he pulled back, his breath fanning over your face. “Been thinkin’ of you a lot.”

You blinked up at him, your lips already wet and wanting for more of his attention. With that dark look in his eyes, he looked as if he might devour you without a moment’s notice. Despite your ever-present reticence toward the things that Joel had taught you so far, you couldn’t ignore the way that your mouth had dried, mind empty of all words.

“Yeah?” you managed, swallowing roughly. In pure humiliation, you leaned forward to hide your face in his chest, inhaling that comforting scent of leather—it both cleared and muddled your head. 

He let out a rumbling chuckle, a looser laugh than you’d ever heard from him, and he placed his gloved hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back up to him. “Yeah,” he said gently, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Probably a little too much, considering I can hardly get through the night without gettin’ a hard-on.”

Your cheeks warmed as you blushed, and you instinctively tried to duck your head once more. Of course, Joel wouldn’t let you; he quickly rid his hands of his gloves and returned them to your cheeks, the chill of his fingertips contrasting with the heat of your cheeks. “You gonna kiss me again?” you asked, your voice small in its pleading. “Please?” you added, the syllable even quieter than the last.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel murmured, and you weren’t sure if it was to you or to himself. He pulled you closer, and you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your hip. “Gonna kill me, dollface,” he groaned before he captured your lips in another bruising kiss, one that had your legs buckling. He kept you upright, with his hands wrapped tightly around your back.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth into his kiss, hardly able to believe how natural it felt to kiss him now. A strangled moan left your mouth and he swallowed it into his own, drinking it like a sweet nectar from the gods. His hands came up to feverishly rid you of your winter coat and you eagerly assisted him, clawing at his layers right after. 

“Teach me,” you begged, pulling away to catch your breath. Your eyes didn’t even open; you were too blissed out to care what you looked like or what he looked like in front of you. “Teach me,” the words came out again, and your bottom lip quivered as if you might shed tears. Your thighs clenched together subconsciously, doing virtually nothing to assist in the pressure that was growing. 

Joel hummed and his thumb carefully swept a caressing touch under your eyes, as if catching any tears that might actually fall. “No need to beg anymore, babygirl,” he cooed, “I’ll teach you everything you want to know.” He tugged your hat from your head and smoothed over your undoubtedly knotted mess of locks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a smirk at you. 

“Promise?” you said, again in that small voice that had you almost kicking yourself. You were supposed to be an adult, mature enough to handle all of this. And you are, the voice in your head spoke harshly, you are.

Joel just nodded and tilted his head back, gesturing for you to follow him further into the cabin. “Stand there for me, doll,” he said, leading you into what must have been the living room some twenty years ago. A couch that looked like it might collapse in on itself sat against the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room. 

You stood where he placed you, but his hands dropped from your body when he went to sit down on the couch. With one arm moving to lay across the back of the couch and his jean-clad legs spreading in the way that made you want to kneel in between them, Joel beckoned for you with his other hand. “Now c’mere,” he ushered, and you couldn’t move fast enough. 

Your hands reached out to grab for him, to take off his coat and his shirt and let him lay bare before you like he had in your bed, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he reassured you, “remember?”

You knew this; both times before this Joel had made it clear that you needn’t worry about getting him off. You were supposed to sit back and let him show you how to feel good, but you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to obey his request. You wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap like he’d had you the first time, and you wanted to rub yourself against his cock so you could see how he looked when he was lost in the throes of his desire. 

“Babydoll,” he nudged you gently with his voice, and you blinked. “Hear me?”

Swallowing hoarsely, you shook your head. “Mm?” you hummed in response.

Joel’s lips curled up in a soft smirk. “Already distracted,” he mused to himself. A hand dropped to his thigh, and your eyes latched onto it. You had the sudden urge to take those fingers into your mouth, to feel the strength of his fingertips on your tongue—the fact that those same digits had been shining with your release (more than once) had your legs wobbling once more. 

“You’re gonna stand there,” he said, adjusting himself on the couch in a way that had your eyes glued to the growing tent in his jeans, “and I’m gonna watch while you make yourself come.”

You blanched, and the spot between your legs pulsed at the idea. “What?” You couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the realization that this meant he wouldn’t be touching you.

“You heard me.”

“But…” your hands flexed, needing to hold onto something. Your desperation for release was almost enough to have you sinking to the floor. “But…I don’t know how—”

Joel nodded, “You do. I’ve shown you, remember?” His fingers tapped a few times on his thigh, and his eyes slipped to drag along your body as you stood just a few feet from him. “And you know I can’t always be there when you need to come, babydoll,” he hummed. “I need you to show me you’ve learned.”

“But—”

“Show me,” he said, his voice firm despite the gentleness in his face. He palmed his cock through his pants and bucked his hips up. “C’mon, baby. Be good for me, I’ll make it worth it.”

Despite his instructions, you shuffled forward, arms out and reaching for him. You paused in between his legs, feeling the heat from his legs radiating toward you. 

But Joel only shook his head with an amused smirk. “No, no, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll come just as quick even if I’m just watchin’ you. I need you to show me what you’ve learned,” he repeated his previous instruction. “Touch yourself, sweet girl. Lemme see how you make yourself feel good.”

You didn’t move, unsure of how to begin—as it was now clear that he wouldn’t let you touch him, nor would he be giving into your requests. Standing there in your sweater and jeans and winter boots, you felt foolish. 

“I know you know how to start, baby,” he encouraged you while moving his hand along his hard cock in his jeans. “Take those clothes off, pretty girl.”

With an instruction to follow, your hands began to move, ridding yourself of your sweater and pants, even your thick boots. Standing in just your worn bra, your cotton panties, and your thick wool socks, you looked shyly toward Joel. It felt somewhat humiliating to have his eyes so intently held on you, despite his face being the picture of approval. 

He moved his hand once more and then he was unzipping his jeans and reaching into his pants, letting his cock spring free. He let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation; you were sure there was a thick feeling of relief that washed over him at the removal of any tight restriction on his erection. “C’mon, baby,” he cooed, and your eyes widened as he licked a wide stripe on his palm, returning his hand to his cock to give it a languid stroke. “I know you can do it.”

You gingerly dropped a hand to your waist, fiddling with the worn out elastic band of your panties. In front of you Joel let out a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing and his dark eyes growing even darker at the sight of your hand getting closer to your mound, where there was certainly a puddle growing. 

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he said gruffly, beckoning for you to step closer. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch, but holy fuck, dollface…I’ve never needed to feel something so bad in my life.”

You practically fell over your own two feet as you obeyed his request, stepping into the space between his legs. His cock was right there, and you wanted to put your tongue on the tip, to feel that bead of leaking seed that was sliding down the angry red head of his cock. “Joel—”

His only answer was with his two fingers pressing a featherlight touch to your bud, drawing a quick moan from your lips, your eyes closing and your hips rolling into the feeling.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby, I knew it,” Joel murmured, sitting forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “You’re always so wet for me, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course you were; he knew this well enough now. But something about the fact that he kept asking…it only made you want him more. 

“Joel, please,” you begged, rolling your hips into his hand again and moaning desperately at the press of his hand against your bud. “I need you to—”

He pulled his hand away and sat back again. “Not yet, dollface,” he reminded you, returning his hand to his cock. “You haven’t even touched yourself, darlin’,” he teased, his tone a mocking coo. 

You let out another strangled whine, but shoved your hand into the waistband of your panties. “Fine,” you sighed, “but it won’t work.” As much as you wanted to come, you were reminded all too well of the last time he asked you to do this. You couldn’t obey his request, and he’d had to make you come all the same. So why would he make you go through the motions again?

Your finger caught on your clit and you inhaled sharply, eyes closing at the addictive sensation. You let your other hand slide up to your chest, instinctively massaging your own breast in the same way that Joel did—at least, as close of a replication as you could make. 

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he said in that southern drawl that had you perpetually weak in the knees. “Lookin’ so good like that, sweetheart, good girl,” he drew out the last two syllables, his teeth audibly gritting as he stroked his cock faster. 

You wanted to continue, wanted to hold onto the feeling of making him proud, but you didn’t know what to do. “Joel,” you begged, “I…” you trailed off.

Both of his hands came to your waist and you opened your eyes at one squeeze of your hips. “C’mere,” he groaned. “Just sit next to me, doll.” He helped you sit next to him, your head resting on the arm of the couch. Your knees came up to your chest, and he looped his thumbs into your panties, ridding you of them in a quick movement. 

Your head was spinning with the hopes that he might give in, that he might not make this foolish game go on for much longer. It had only been a minute or two, but you never wanted to make yourself come if Joel was always going to be so willing. “Joel—”

“Spread those pretty legs for me, baby,” he whispered, his big hands on your knees. When you couldn’t move your legs on your own, he gently nudged them apart, his eyes darting down to your dripping mound. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hand hovering over your folds, “even more appetising than I remember.”

The implication made your head reel. Surely he wouldn’t… 

But your thoughts were interrupted when he sat back at the other end of the couch, his cock sitting at the ready as he dragged his hand over it again. “I’m good at waiting, though,” he murmured to himself. “C’mon, princess,” he sighed, “just like we practiced. Hand on that pretty pussy, baby.”

The whine that left your throat was downright pornographic as you obeyed, the sound of his instructions shooting bullets of pleasure down your spine and straight to that sensitive bud at the crevice of your thighs. 

Just like we practiced, he’d said. You had no desire to disappoint him; you wanted to prove to him that you could do this, you wanted to see that look of flushed pride on his face when he came again. When you’d make yourself come. 

Your fingers slipped around your dripping cunt, still clumsy and untrained despite knowing just how Joel would make you come undone with his touch. You tried your best to replicate it, gliding your fingers in tight circles around your bud, or drawing long stripes in between your folds, but it just made you more frustrated. “Joel,” you whined again, “please.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. “You’re doing it, baby. Look at you, rubbin’ that pretty clit for all it’s worth.” His words were bruisingly confident, but his tone was shaky and the only evidence that he was dangerously close to coming before you. 

“Joel, I—” you circled your clit once more— “I need you to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, and you felt him shift closer to you—just a centimeter. 

You pulled your own hand away from your clit, despite your body begging for more, and you looked for a moment at the shine on your fingers. “Joel,” you repeated, “I…I want you to tell me what to do.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then, “That so?” His movements had stopped. 

You nodded, and couldn’t help the desperation in your voice. “Yes.” Somehow your legs dropped open even wider, exposing yourself to him further. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gave yourself entirely to him. “I’ll do it.”

Joel had turned his chest to face you, and he ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, ya know?” he said, and you thought it was a minor jab at your eagerness until he dropped his hand back to his lap and you saw that blissed-out smile that you were learning to ache for. “‘Course I’ll tell you what to do. If that’s what you want,” he answered, and you almost came at the sound of his voice. 

He shifted so his body was facing you; the sight of him with his shirt buttoned, his pants still on, but the zipper undone and his cock bobbing heavily as he moved…it was enough to have you rolling your eyes back. Joel Miller was sensational. The essence of sin and seduction, and you only wanted more.

“Lift this leg for me, baby,” he murmured as he lowered his chest to the couch. You let him move your ankle to rest on his shoulder, then the other ankle to match. “That’s it,” he cooed, “you’re such a quick learner, babydoll.”

You blushed at the nickname, and when he sank to his elbows with his eyes on your pussy, your eyes widened. “Joel—”

You’d heard of this type of pleasure, but you’d never thought it was something men actually did. When he looked up at you with that hungry look in his eye, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like one might do before eating an especially good meal, you realized another thing. 

You’d never thought this could be something that men actually enjoyed.

“You want instruction, babygirl?” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh and chuckling when you shivered. “I’ll give you instruction. Lay back and let me take care of you. You’re always so good at that, yeah?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer before he was dipping his head down to your most sacred spot, where you needed him most. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them against his ears as if they were keeping him warm in the cold temperatures outside. With one stripe from your weeping entrance to your quivering bud, Joel nearly made you come on the spot.

“Joel, I’m gonna—” 

He pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Already, baby? We’ve only just started,” he drawled, turning his head to kiss the inside of your other thigh. “Hold on to it for me, yeah? Gotta practice holding it for me, okay?”

You were too far gone to even grace his question with a response. All you could manage was a stuttering moan as you threw your head back and bucked your hips into his face, chasing your release.

Joel held your hips down with a light chuckle. “Wait, princess,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your clit before continuing, “you don’t wanna fail your lesson, do ya?”

The implication that something might happen—or decidedly not happen—if you were to come before he let you only spurred you on. “Joel, please—”

“Just a little longer, please, baby,” he said, his voice a gentle moan. His tongue grazed your clit once more and he closed his lips over your bud, suckling just lightly enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

It was then that you opened your eyes and looked at him; you wanted to see what he looked like with his mouth on your most sensitive spot if you were going to come. Your eyes caught on his hips, laid out on the couch further away from you. You blinked.

Joel was rutting into the couch. His hips were seemingly moving of their own accord, a smooth movement that was covered in sin and desperation. You thought about the fact that the curve of his hips would probably look like that if he were pressing his cock into you, and that was it. 

Your voice broke over the sound of your whines, and paired with his fingers coming up to press into your entrance, you were done for. You came hard over his fingers, your moans so loud that you thought someone would hear you all the way back in Jackson. “JoelJoelJoelJoel,” you cried, feeling the familiar rise of emotions in your throat. 

Joel pulled his head from your pussy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” he smirked. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, although you weren’t sure you had the capacity to even be sorry just now; the sight of him getting off at the taste of you was enough to keep your mind busy for the next week. “I didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay, dollface,” he chuckled, “I forgive you. That pussy tastes too sweet to be mad about you comin’ all over my damn face.”

Your thighs lay open for another moment, and Joel absentmindedly put his hand over your clit to rub another gentle circle to your sensitive bud. He hummed when your hips bucked at the overstimulation before pulling his hand away. 

Your eyes dropped to his cock, sitting rock hard and definitely not spent. You reached out with your hand again, sitting up. The effects of your orgasm were still heavy on your mind, but in a wordless movement you sank to your knees before him. “You didn’t come,” you said, more of a question than a statement. 

He shook his head. “Don’t matter,” he said, patting a hand on your head. “That was just for you, doll.”

You frowned. “But—” you dipped your head down, aiming your mouth at his tip despite not knowing what to do beyond that. All you knew was that this was something he needed. The tip of his cock was leaking profusely now, and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel. 

“We haven’t practiced that one yet, pretty girl,” he said softly, and lifted your head from where it was aiming. “Trust me, doll, I want it just as bad as you want to give it to me.” He traced his thumb along the line of your nose, a habit that he’d been starting to pick up. “But we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Then I wanna practice,” you insisted, your knees digging into the cold wooden floor. You didn’t want to think about how you looked, your face showing the remnants of your orgasm and your entrance starting to drip once more at the thought of pleasing him. “Let me practice,” you repeated. 

He smiled ruefully. “Got nothin’ to practice on, sweet thing,” he said softly. “We’ll practice another day.”

You took his hand wordlessly, not sure where this bout of confidence was coming from. It was like you were drunk on the thought of making him come. He let you hold his hand in yours, and with one look up at him, holding his eyes in your gaze, you opened your mouth to slide three of his fingers onto your tongue. He tasted like salt and the sweet release of your own body. 

Joel jerked in your grip, his cock bobbing toward you and his hand nearly shoving itself all the way down your throat. “Holy fuck, doll,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “S’enough to make a man leave his wife.”

You chuckled, knowing he was spewing nonsense from his lips now, but you pressed his fingers further down your throat, only stopping when they brushed the back of your throat, causing you to gag. 

“That’s okay, babygirl,” he said with another affectionate pat on your head. “You’re doin’ so good. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Thought I was doing well,” you said sheepishly when he pulled his fingers from your mouth. A string of spit connected his fingers to your lips.

He nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You are, dollface,” he said. “You are. Maybe it’s me who needs a second to regroup.”

You knew it wasn’t true; his angry red tip was more than enough of a conflicting response to his words. But you let him pick you up from the floor and cradle you in his arms over his lap, rubbing his hands in circles over your body. “You’ll let me make you feel good, though?” you asked softly. 

Joel smiled. “‘Course,” he reassured you with a kiss on the cheek. “Next time,” he promised. 

It was enough. You nodded and rested your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the gentle curtain of sleep cover you. “M’tired,” you whispered, every inhibition gone. This man had seen and touched every part of you; there was no point in being shy.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, and when his face wasn’t in between your legs, it was an awfully domestic phrase. “Just lemme hold your for a second. Then we’ll go back home.”

—

You didn’t know how you’d managed to get back on the horse, your clit sensitive and your whines hoarse with the constant friction as you rode back to Jackson. Your head had leaned back against Joel’s chest and he rested his chin against the top of your head, a constant warm presence as you rose from your post-orgasm haze. 

A happy accident, a faraway voice mused in your head. One horse with Joel on patrol? A dream. 

That is, until Tommy came out of the stables as you two approached. 

“Why’d you leave her horse here?” he called out, and you felt Joel tense behind you. “You forget how to ride a damn horse, darlin’?” Tommy said to you with that same southern drawl that his older brother shared in his voice. 

You blushed as Joel helped you down from his mount, and you hid your uncontrollable laughter behind your hand when he shared some tense words with his brother. 

“Fuck off,” Joel finished, but by the look of his wide eyes and red cheeks, you knew it held no malice. He was embarrassed. He’d faked your horse’s injury so he could hold you close. The realization made your head whirl. 

You walked off from the stables when the horse was returned to his stall, and you giggled when you heard Joel hurry to catch up with you. 

He looked around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone was nearby, and then he delivered a quick swat to your ass, making you nearly trip in the snow. “S’not nice to laugh at an old man,” he said with a straight face, all business. But you could see the uncharacteristic rosiness in his cheeks, betraying his continued humiliation. 

You weren’t sure where the confidence in your voice came from, but you sighed with a, “Yeah,” before nudging him with your elbow. “Can’t help it when it’s your own brother, Joel.”

He shook his head and your arm tingled when he reached out with his gloved hand to clasp onto yours. “What am I gonna do with you, dollface, huh?” he mumbled, and you weren’t quite sure if you were meant to hear it until he looked down at you with a gentle smirk and a raised brow. 

You shrugged, your own cheeks heating up at the implications of what you were about to say. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Make another lesson out of it, I suppose.”

Joel just stared at you, a smug expression on his face. He tore his eyes from yours and played the part of nonchalance when he responded smoothly, mirth twinkling in those brown eyes you’d grown so attached to. “Maybe I will.”

this is so sinful i'm so tipsy rn i hope you liked it!!!! tysm for reading i love u all <3

tags (i'm so sorry it wouldn't let me tag everyone!!! i'll do the rest of my tags in the morning!!!): @morning-star-joy @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @dinsdjrn @mingiast @darkroastjoel @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @buckbarnesdollsposts @kamcrazy123 @djarins-wife @lovelyladiess @impossiblebluebirdchaos @salsdemise @daddy-din @chaotic-mystery @laughcryreadsmutrepeat @prose-before-hoes-blog @morgaussy @thepriceofdevotion @chateausophie @livyjh @kittenlittle24 @ever-siince-new-york @julietamidala @3xclusive-y0ni @paanchusblog @okdeedee @scarletsloveletter @paleidiot @cleopatra99 @samuncenxsored @yourfavoriteredheadbitch-blog @brie-annwyl @spxctorsslxt @pattwtf @meijasworldasf @easaud @yuk-for-president @withrice-ontoast @ssssc0m @nini123 @bookishofalder @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[hairyjocktf]

Fire in the Forest

Adam sighed deeply as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The familiar scent of old laundry and takeout boxes washed over him as the door swung open. He slid his bag off his shoulder onto the floor and slumped onto the couch. Today had been one of the worst days of his life, to put it mildly. The company he’d slaved away for since graduating a few years ago had unexpectedly let him go as part of cost cutting measures. Every late night he’d spent at the office suddenly hit him as a waste, his hard work had never mattered to those up top. Adding insult to injury was his paltry severance package; with his rent it’d barely last two weeks. He wouldn’t even have time to breathe before having to find a new job.

Before he knew it he’d passed out sitting on the couch, waking up hours later to a dark sky out the window. Shit, he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes before forcing his body up and off the couch. He tossed a frozen meal into the microwave before setting his laptop up on the table. With the microwave humming in the background he started visiting websites of companies he knew of in the same sphere. Career page after career page yielded no luck. He grabbed his food from the beeping microwave and continued to solemnly scroll through page after page of indeed listings, applying to every one he could convince himself he was qualified for. Soon enough it was two in the morning, and Adam decided to call it quits. He cleaned up his now very cold dinner and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and clean up for bed. His red hair glowed under the ceiling light, looking almost like fire. It was one of his more attractive qualities, he thought to himself, looking at his skinny frame and ghostly skin. He flipped off the lights and hopped into bed.

It was around ten the next morning that Adam finally crawled out of bed. He grabbed his phone off the desk and quickly checked for any job notifications. There was only one, and not one he recognized. It was a recruitment email from a logging company, Cascade Lumber. He skimmed over the email, they’d “found” his profile online and thought he’d be a good fit for a lumberjack role? That was ridiculous, he thought, and closed out of his email. Frustrated at no actual leads, he decided to take a walk for the morning and get back to searching that afternoon. While out trying to enjoy the rare sunny day, that email stuck in his mind. Really? A lumberjack? It was absurd, insulting almost. He was a software developer, not some country laborer. He got back to his apartment and threw himself back into the search, sending out applications one after another. The next day was much of the same, desperately trying to find more niche positions that might be hiring. Still no responses, though. Each day he became a little more stressed, a little more frantic in his search. How had no one responded yet? He had plenty of qualifications and experience, he didn’t understand the problem.

Two weeks had passed and Adam was against a wall. His severance cash was nearly dried up, and still nothing had come through, not even an interview. Even his connections had fallen through. With the bills starting to pile up on the counter, he was out of options. That was when he remembered the email from weeks before. At this point it couldn’t hurt to respond, maybe they had a tech position he could weasel into. He wrote a short response and sent it off. Just minutes later, as Adam was in the middle of making lunch, his phone buzzed. They’d responded already, inviting him out to their office. The address was nearly an hour out west, but what choice did he have?

The next morning he was on his way out of the city, high rises giving way to fields and then forest. Dense groves alternated with barren patches of recently logged areas, letting sunlight down to the road. He pulled down a narrow road and a few minutes later parked in front of a modest building tucked into the trees. His car was surrounded by huge trucks filled to the brim with tree trunks, as well as some large machinery he couldn’t identify. Upon walking inside he was greeted with a dim room full of old logging gear. He heard the footsteps of someone large approaching, before a huge man descended the stairs to greet him. He looked enormous in this small room, almost scraping the ceiling, and his frame was equally wide. His open shirt revealed a forest of hair on his chest, and his beard was incredibly thick. Adam suddenly felt very intimidated, despite the large smile on the man’s face.

“Hey there! You must be Adam, so glad you took us up on visiting. We really think you’d be a great asset on the team. Whoa! I’m getting ahead of myself, the name’s Derek,” he reached out his absolute paw of a hand. With a shake Derek immediately began touring Adam around the office. Derek was overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but also in his assumption that Adam had agreed to start working there. He didn’t have another option, but they didn’t know that. They got into Derek’s truck and he drove off into the forest towards a work site. The majority of the information Derek was spitting out went in one ear and out the other, but Adam tried to look as engaged as he could. The truck came to a screeching halt in an area they were currently clearing. The sound of chainsaws was like nails on a chalkboard to Adam as they stepped out of the truck. In the distance he saw machinery whirring away cutting trees, as well as men harnessed up with saws. Derek went into more detail about working in an active logging site, the dangers and safety measures. Adam was instead busy looking at the men working nearby. They had on hard hats and bright orange vests overtop thick jackets or flannels. They all looked big and burly, like they’d been lifting for years. Adam wasn’t sure how in Derek’s mind he would be able to do anything here.

“...and I think that just about covers most of it. Oh! And the salary is $55k per year, with annual raises and benefits. We try to do right by our guys here,” Derek smiled at Adam. That number had finally gotten his attention. Nothing close to his old job, but better than zero. In a decision that probably warranted some more thought, Adam opened his mouth.

“Great, when do I start?”

Derek’s smile doubled in size and he slapped Adam on the back. “That’s my man, let’s get you all set up then while you’re out here,” he said. They both got back into Derek’s truck and drove back to the office. Inside Adam was handed the same hat and vest he saw the men at the site wearing.

“Now that’s just the basics, you’ll probably want some heavy clothing while on the job, and get yourself some good boots while you’re at it,” he chuckled, looking down at Adam’s aging vans shoes. Adam thanked him and walked back to his car. Still unsure of this whole venture, Adam departed. On the way back he stopped at some workwear stores, looking for boots and clothes to fit the job. Having no idea what he actually needed, he just looked for the closest things to what he remembered the guys there wearing. Close enough, right?

Back at his apartment he cautiously tried on all the clothing he’d just gotten. To his surprise, it all fit fairly well, despite his body being much smaller than most of the guys out there. His thin frame looked bulkier under a thick layer of protective and warm clothing. He almost… liked how it looked? Adam quickly put that thought out of his head and stripped off the gear. The sun was already dipping below the horizon and he had to be out there early in the morning from now on. 

The alarm came even sooner than he thought. Adam rolled out of bed at four in the morning, and was out the door as soon as he could get himself together. The air was chilly outside, with not even a hint of the sunrise yet in the darkness. He drove straight to the site Derek had assigned him to, finding a group of men chatting together while donning their equipment. Adam introduced himself, and began putting on his own assigned gear. The day flew by as several other guys instructed Adam on how things worked. He was more keen to pay attention to everything this time, listening intently to each burly man who showed him how to use a chainsaw. By the end of the day he’d felled a few trees and learned the basics of the larger machinery the team used. Despite it being cool all day, Adam was sweating up a storm in his thick coat. Maybe he’d overestimated how much layering was needed. The drive home felt shorter than it had the day before, but Adam was frustrated at a recurring itch on his jaw, it just kept coming back no matter how much he scratched at it.

The next few days were much of the same, Adam’s time was highly supervised while he was learning, but he was surprised at how easily he took to it. His original plan of finding a tech position to switch to had already been forgotten. The other lumberjacks seemed to like Adam as well, despite his scrawny stature. His red hair made him easy to point out, even though it was usually covered by a hard hat. The itch on his face reared its head a few more times, as Adam’s baby smooth face was slowly overtaken by a light red stubble. Each day it would poke out just a hair more, reaching out from his chin towards his sideburns. Adam failed to notice this, just as he was blind to the muscle his skinny body had started to put on. In just a week he’d gained serious definition, he had slight pecs and shoulders, and his arms looked like he’d been working out for years. Must be the intensity of the job, he thought to himself when one of his old t-shirts no longer fit. As the days passed, his stubble connected across his face, and some wispy hairs poked out of his growing pecs. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.

The weeks continued to pass as Adam got settled into his position. He started to feel like a real lumberjack as trees fell by his hand day by day. He began to fit in more with the other men as well. His bright red stubble thickened. Hairs that were barely more than peach fuzz grew thick and pushed out into a true short beard. The wisps on his chest likewise grew thicker, curlier, as more pressed out of his pecs. The red hairs grew and wove together until the hairy coating could no longer be ignored. His chest hair was normally kept beneath multiple layers, until one of his fellow loggers spotted the rug while he was changing. The crew gave him their old flannels and forced him to wear them and let some of the fiery red hair poke out. They all loved it, he was looking like them with their thick beards and hairy chests. The tiny new hire was quickly vanishing beneath muscle and fur, as the hairs on his chest spread downwards over his tight stomach.

Adam began noticing that each day he would leave work absolutely soaked in sweat. His layers just absorbed it leaving him a sopping mess as the job was so labor intensive. It didn’t bother him, he just bought more work clothes to cycle through, but he was oblivious to the other effects it was having. Adam’s body, steeping in sweat all day, was producing more and more. Not only that, his previously bare pits began sprouting fine red hairs. At first it was just a few thin hairs poking out, but as they were soaked in sweat they grew thicker. More hairs popped out of the damp pit, filling in rapidly. His once smooth pits were growing into a dense jungle of hair, the hairs thick and red, tangling together into a tuft that trapped even more sweat and stench. They spread out of the confines of his pit, connecting with the pelt on his chest and beginning to pop out across his upper arms. He would dig his fingers into his furry pits to scratch, the hair growing in itching like mad. Each day more hairs pushed out, more sweat was trapped, and the more he smelled like the other men around him.

As the weeks rolled on, Adam kept having to buy new clothes between sweat stains and simply outgrowing them. His body had put on a lot of size since starting, his thin frame bulking out as he grew taller and wider. The weather was growing colder, and the added layers were hiding his growing size, as well as his growing fur. The hair from his pits was continuing its march, with wiry hair cropping up across his shoulders, triceps, and was especially dense on his forearms. Red wispy hairs sprouted all over his upper body, filling in gaps and growing into a thick ginger rug. His body was growing at a rapid rate, biceps filling out and pecs becoming real pillows, but it wasn’t all muscle. His size was softened by a healthy layer of fat that only encouraged more hair to sprout. His already dense chest hair thickened further, red hairs swirling around his nipples and growing longer and curlier. The chest fur grew up and over his shoulders, creating a seamless carpet from his hands through his torso. Even his back was beginning to show signs, as light red fuzz was gathering around his shoulder blades and above his waistline. Hair sprouted out of his shirt collars and poked from his sleeves; even under his layers of clothes his coworkers knew Adam was hiding some impressive fur.

What they couldn’t see was below Adam’s waistline. The fur coat from his stomach slowly inched downwards, the wispy hairs occupying his groin quickly overrun with a thick red bush. The hairs pushed out from the base of his cock, thick and curly they sprouted and tangled together as the bush expanded. The hairs climbed up and connected with the rug on his stomach, and out to his thighs before racing down his thick legs. His pubes grew denser into a thick triangle of red hair, his cock growing larger to not be hidden beneath the jungle. Adam hardly noticed as the bulge in his jeans grew day by day, sweat soaking the area as it developed a thick musk that was barely contained by his underwear. He had to buy larger sizes after his balls swelled considerably, dropping lower than before and sprouting with their own rug of red hair. The hairs spread down over his taint before blossoming in his ass crack, a thick fiery explosion of fur pushing out as the hairs grew like weeds over his large cheeks. His legs grew stockier to support his growing body as the hairs continued their march from the thick nest of pubes. His thighs were coated before it spread to his calves. His feet stretched and ached as they grew multiple sizes in just a few weeks, before too being buried beneath a thick mat of red hair.

Winter finally began showing its ugly face, and Adam’s job grew rougher daily as temperatures plummeted up in the mountains. His body adapted, packing on considerable bulk. Gone was his thin, twinky frame, replaced now by a thick and strong body, built for strength and warmth. His thick muscular frame was coated in a layer of fat to insulate him, and his belly seemed to just keep growing. The fur coat he’d been developing only continued to come in. The red hairs grew thicker and denser every day, pushing against his clothing. His fiery red beard, which had been well kept until now began erupting from his face with a fury. Thick hairs curled over his upper lip as the hairs on his cheeks pushed out inch after inch. More hairs filled in between as the coating crawled higher on his cheeks. It surged down his neck and blended with the thick chest hair. He looked wild, but it kept his face warm from the frigid winds. He even got complimented on it, earning a reputation as a real mountain man from his fellow lumberjacks. Adam had fully adapted to his job, there was no going back. He was now a hairy, hefty lumberjack with a fur coat to rival an animal’s. He’d grown to be one of the best in the crew, each tree felled returning as a hair in his pelt.