#i ain’t switching sides

[godddamnbranman]

Prophet, tried and told ppl, chuckle at the known evils..

[cicadaknight]

Huh. Wonder who put holes in my couch in the first place?

[cisphobie]

didn’t feel like putting this on the post i’m thinking about rn cuz it’s about cane references and the char i’m talking about has a crutch, but they kinda fucked up with one of my f/os’ mobility aids now that i think abt it

[codtrashsammy]

This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

[borathae]

"Your husband, who is your lovely sub on normal days, asks if he could take the lead for once."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader 

Genre: married life!AU, Smut

Warnings: switchy Dom!Jungkook, switch!Reader, basically he wants to be Dom but ends up having quite a subby approach to the entire scene, he is so cute!, slightly bratty!Reader, he shows off his bratty side as well, he lets a few "Mommy"s slip because he is cute, sex in the playroom, leather handcuffs, he ties her to the bed with ropes, suit kink as he keeps his suit on during sex, lap sitting, he is a giggly tease, body worship, nipple licking, temperature play with peach juice, edging (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), vaginal fingering, use of a rabbit vibrator, use of lube, strength kink, some dirty talk, he calls her "his queen", giggly aftercare, Kookie slips right back into sub-mode the moment the scene ended, they’re so in love!!

Wordcount: 9.7k

a/n: Okay you guys, you know that I love aaol!Kook and his subby nature very much, but this idea came to me one night and wouldn't want to leave me. So enjoy, this is him being the Dom in a scene I am *gulps* have fun besties 😩💜

Your husband had a request last night. It was the type of request he never made before and one you most definitely didn’t expect to ever hear from him.

“Can I dom you?”

The question fell during dinner, leaving you to look at him with widened eyes.

“It’s just that, that…”

He began stuttering then, fondling with his own ear nervously.

“...you know that I, uhm, you know how we, uhm. You know uhm. You know how we once talked about how I’m kinda only subbing for the right woman and that I’m actually a switch? You know it, it was on our first date. You know?”

You assured him that yes of course you remember.

“Yeah okay I uh. Uhm. Uh. Mmh, yeah. I was, uh.”

You had to tell him then, “Jungkook, please don’t be so nervous, there is no reason for it”, which calmed him down enough that he could finish his sentence properly.

“It’s just that, I was thinking that maybe we could, you know, switch it up for once? Just, just once obviously and I, I don’t wanna invalidate you as a Dom.”

“You aren’t, my love”, you told him to which he seemed rather assured.

“Okay good, so uhm. What do you think? Could I be, uhm, could I be the Dom for once? Just once? Please? Once?”

Jungkook looked at you with the biggest puppy eyes ever and so you told him in the most nonchalant of ways that “yeah sure, let’s switch it up. But ain’t calling you Daddy.”

“Ew hell no, that’s just gross. You’re literally the same age as me.”

At that you had to laugh, “but Jungkook dear, you call me Mommy too.”

“Well, that’s different because you’re hot and like totally my type.”

A day has passed between that conversation and the current moment. You have just come home, now in the middle of hanging up your coat when Jungkook calls for you.

“My love, can you come here for a moment?”

“Coming! Just gotta get rid of my bag!” you tell him, doing exactly that.

You find Jungkook in the living room once you are done undressing. He is sitting on the chaise lounge by the window, still wearing a suit. Well, parts of it at least. A black and terribly tight button up is tucked into his equally as tight and as black slacks. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up, revealing his strong, lower arms to you. His favourite Rolex sits around his wrist. The suit jacket he had draped on the chaise lounge beside him.

“Hey there handsome, how was your day?” you greet him.

“Good. Yours?”

“Good too, just kinda stressful.”

“Yeah stressful?”

“Yeah very. But it’s alright because I’m home now. With you.”

Jungkook gives you a shy grin. You let your eyes run over his chest. He has three of his buttons open, leaving little to your imagination.

“But what’s with you. Why are you still in your suit?” you ask him.

“It’s not my work suit.”

“It’s not?”

Jungkook smirks and spreads his legs rather cockily.

“Come here, my love”, he says, carrying a certain rasp in his voice.

“Oh? Okay”, you chuckle, “is this already part of your plan?”

“Yeah maybe”, he straightens up the closer you come.

“Is it now? What about dinner?”

“Wanna take you out afterwards. It’s not good to play with a full stomach anyway”, he tells you, following the sway of your hips with his eyes, “now sit”, he says, tapping his lap.

You smile fondly, climbing on top of his lap in a way so that you were facing him. Your knees are caging in his hips and you have your hands hooked behind his neck.

“Like this?” you ask, playing with his undercut at the nape of his neck.

“Perfect”, he says and places his hands on your hips to massage them gently. He scans his eyes over your body, “you’re so beautiful, my love.”

“Oh? Thank you. I feel like a mess. I was sweating so much today.”

“I don’t even see it. You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

“No, no. Call me by name tonight”, he pauses, “if it’s alright with you, of course”, he adds in a whisper.

“By your name?” you stifle a chuckle, but Jungkook is looking at you with dead serious eyes, “fine. Thank you, Jungkook”, you coo, fluttering your lashes at him.

Jungkook nods his head and runs his hand up your back. He gives your body a gentle squeeze when he reaches your upper back, then begins dancing his hands down to your hips again.

“How was your day, my love? Honestly”, he asks with his attentive eyes solely focused on you. He loves listening to you.

“It was good. Just really hot and the last two lectures kinda ruined me. I’m so tired”, you say and rest your head on his shoulder, “but that’s amazing. You’re so snuggly.”

Jungkook kisses your hair and rubs his hands up and down your back. His touch is so nice, making you tingle in a comforting manner. 

“Are you in the mood for kink? I know I’m kinda surprising you right now.”

“No, I knew you would. We talked about it, didn’t we?”

“Mhm, yeah. But moods can change, especially after a long day.”

“No, I still want it. I was looking forward to tonight. I’m so curious to what you have planned.”

“It’s gonna be so good”, he says and wiggles.

“Yeah?"

“Mh-hm, I put a lot of thought into it and worked with the wishes you told me yesterday. I really worked so hard on it.”

“Uuh Bunny, that sounds intriguing.”

“I know, oh Mommy I’m so-”, he stops and wiggles out of your hug. He pouts at you, “no Bunny”, he frowns cutely, “and you’re not my Mommy tonight. No.”

You laugh, caressing his cheeks, “you’re cute. But fine. I’ll behave. What do you have planned, Jungkook?”

“First, tell me your rights”, he says.

“Well, I have the right to vote and the right to voice my opinion freely, there is also the right to-”

“No ___, don’t ruin my plan”, Jungkook whines, sending you a pleading look.

You chuckle. He is so adorable. You are pretty sure that if you truly acted bratty, he would just straight up break into tears because of feeling way too overwhelmed. Poor, sweet boy. Maybe you should cut him some slack for now. After all, Jungkook has a talent for planning scenes. You are sure that he put a lot of effort into tonight.

“Fine”, you give in, “Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum happy birthday. Also don’t you dare call me a good girl or I will end the scene immediately.”

“Yes, that’s it. I understand”, Jungkook says, nodding his head, “do you want this?”

“Yes Jungkook, I do.”

“Good”, he lowers his eyes playfully, “you know? I did some thinking today.”

“You did?”

“Mhm yeah. I was thinking about all the ways I could ruin you.”

“Ruin me?” you gasp, feeling genuinely surprised.

“Yeah”, Jungkook lowers his eyes playfully, “you always put so much effort into making sure I’m a complete mess, so I put a lot of thinking into what I could do to you.”

“You did?” you ask him, finding more and more enjoyment in the scene.

“Yeah”, he smirks playfully, “why don’t you clean up and get pretty for me and I’ll show you?”

“You’ll show me?” you ask huskily, moving closer.

Jungkook looks at your lips with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah”, he rasps, “upstairs.”

A shiver runs down your spine, making your hips squirm on top of his lap.

“You really prepared it upstairs?”

“Yeah, like we talked about”, he says cockily, “I also put out something for you to wear.”

“Fuck Bunny, you-”

“Uh, nuh”, he silences you by pressing his finger against your lips, “aren’t you forgetting something here?”

“Jungkook”, you murmur, gawking at him with widened eyes, “I meant Jungkook.”

“Better”, he rasps and caresses your chin with two of his fingers, “now off you go, get cleaned up and pretty and then come upstairs. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Fine, geez you’re really into this role aren’t you?” you murmur, stumbling off his lap with slightly wobbly knees.

Jungkook told the truth. He really prepared something to wear for you. One of his shirts. Babyblue and oversized. It is resting on your bed with a single red rose and a little note on top of it. You aren’t surprised that he chose something so domestic and casual. He loves it when you wear his clothes and quite frankly, you expected him to choose domestic attire for you.

You decide to get washed up first and read the note later.

Once done and with your body finally smelling and feeling clean again, you sit down on the edge of the bed, putting on the shirt. It fits you perfectly, smelling just like him. Once you took a good whiff of him, you reach for the note and the finely wrapped chocolate praline he placed beside it. You let it melt on your tongue as you read.

“A flower and chocolate for my Queen. PS: No panties please ;) Love, Jungkook.”

You smile, folding the note neatly and placing it next to the rose.

“You’re so cute, Bunny”, you murmur, leaving the bedroom to finally hurry upstairs.

You are so excited for what he has planned. You know that whatever he thought of will be fun. The two of you had a long and thorough conversation about your likes and dislikes last night, so you know that Jungkook must have taken great advantage of the knowledge. He is your amazing husband after all.

You knock three times and wait with a racing heart.

“Come in!”

You take a deep breath and finally slip inside.

The playroom doesn’t look much different than it normally does. Except that Jungkook turned on all the moodlights and he changed the once red PVC cover for the black one. It fits well with his outfit.

“Look at you”, he says, leaving the place by the backlit window to strut to you, “you look fucking stunning.”

“Thank you”, you say, “and thank you for the rose and chocolate.”

“Of course”, he says, taking your hand to place a soft kiss on top of your knuckles, “anything for my Queen”, he rasps, looking at you with playful eyes.

He leaves you all hot and bothered. This cocky, flirty attitude suits him so well.

“So”, you begin, “finally ready to tell me what you have planned for me?”

Jungkook straightens up solely to begin circling you like a predator would its prey. His steps are confident, the sound of his shoes are loud on the floorboards.

One.

Two.

He is standing just about behind you, placing his hand on your lower back. He leans in, making sure that you would feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Patience”, he whispers, inching his hand closer and closer to your front. He presents a flute of a sparkling beverage to you. It reflects the red lights, “for you.”

“What’s that?” you gasp, eyeing it with slight shock in your tummy.

“Sparkling peach juice”, he says and giggles, “I wanted to treat you to something yummy.”

“Oh dear, you had me worried that you got alcohol for a sec”, you say, accepting the flute gladly.

“Never”, he says and snakes his arm around you so he could clink glasses with you. He ghosts his lips over your neck as he does, sending shivers down your spine, “to a wonderful evening”, he rasps.

“Yeah”, you agree and guide the glass to your lips. Jungkook does the same with his’. One sip and then he ghosts his lips over your neck again. They are cold from the juice, their kisses leave wet spots on your skin. Jungkook lets his breath swirl over them, intensifying the sensation to the max. It also doesn’t help that his unoccupied hand is running up and down your waist, reminding you just how warm his touch feels.

“I’m so obsessed with you”, he whispers, nibbling on the spots he marked to get rid of the juice, “I can’t stop looking at you in this shirt”, he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

The shiver running down your spine leaves you seeking his closeness. You lean into him, sipping on the juice.

“Means I’m yours”, you whisper, listening to his breath hitch.

“Mine?” he repeats, voice shaky.

You smirk triumphantly, “yeah, yours. When you’re on business trips I always put it on, it’s like you’re right there with me.”

“My love”, Jungkook is almost growling, pressing himself into you while his hand grips your hip strongly. He buries his face in your neck, purring deeply.

You giggle, stumbling from how aggressively he is gripping you and with just how much vigour he is grinding into you. You knew it. This would drive him insane. You solely did it to get him that way. Desperate and oh so turned on.

“Fuck, you drive me insane”, he rasps, “I wanna treat you so fucking right.”

His hand rests itself on your stomach, pressing your body back into him. You fall gladly, moaning softly when your ass brushes against his growing cock.

You have to look at him. You just have to.

“Goddamn Kook, what’s gotten into you?”

He looks into your eyes, “why? Do you not like it? Did I do something wrong?” he asks panickedly.

“No, it’s just. You’re actually into that role, aren’t you?”

He nods his head, “I spent my entire day thinking about it”, he confesses and giggles cutely, “I couldn’t concentrate at work at all because all I could think about was us and, and you and just how excited I am for tonight.”

“Well, that’s not good. You shouldn’t do that, baby”, you say, caressing his cheek.

“I know, but I couldn’t help it Mommy, I just-”, he falters, lowering his eyes at you, “don’t do that”, he whines.

“Oh, cutie”, you laugh.

“Hey don’t laugh, it’s not funny. You’re so mean, you gotta give me a chance too.”

“I am, I am. Don’t worry”, you assure him, snickering.

He huffs out air, pouting.

“Fine”, you twirl, placing your hand on his chest, “I’ll try to behave from now on.”

“Thanks”, he says, relaxing. He touches your side, massaging it slowly while his eyes race over your features.

“I’ll try, can’t promise that I’ll succeed”, you say, smirking.

“Mhm, that’s enough for me”, he says, pulling you closer, “thank you, my love. I really need this, so thank you.”

He is so sweet. You are melting on the spot. He is so, so sweet.

“Now”, you say and shotgun the rest of your juice, “finally wanna tell me what you have planned for me?”

“Well first”, he says and takes your hand, “follow me.”

He leads you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap in a way so that your legs would tangle down on one side of him and your back was supported by his arm. The glasses are placed on the floor for now.

The other hand he slips between your legs, feeling up your inner thigh with teasing precision. You really want to squirm because of it. His touch is like fire on your skin.

“What would you say if I told you that I want to put handcuffs around your wrists? And then make you lie on the mattress while I feel up every inch of you?”

“Handcuffs you’re saying? What kinda handcuffs?”

You are acting oblivious on purpose. In reality, you knew exactly of what handcuffs he is talking. You talked about it last night.

He nods his head to the side, pulling your attention to the black leather cuffs currently resting beside him on the bed. You know these cuffs. They have been around Jungkook’s wrists a hundred times before.

“Those seem familiar.”

“Mhm probably. They’re comfy, trust me.”

“Yeah? Have experience with them?”

He smirks playfully, looking at your lips, “maybe.”

“That’s hot. Someone so strong and manly all tied up. That’s so hot”, you coo, swirling your nail up his exposed chest.

Jungkook purrs, moving closer until your lips are touching. One second of gazing. His hand moves, his finger brushes over your pussy. A gasp slips past your lips.

“No panties”, he says and smiles, “you listened. I like that.”

He is tracing your thigh as he speaks. He is so close to your middle that you would only have to move a little and you could have his touch. One more time. The first touch felt so good.

“I thought I’d make it easier for you”, you whisper, chasing him in a squirm.

“You did so well”, he praises, “now”, he pauses his touches, hovers his finger just above your clit, “can you tell me what you think of the idea, mhm?”

Again. He knew exactly what you thought of it because you told him last night. You were into it and you trusted him. It was still terribly exciting to hear you consent to it once again.

“It’s alright.”

“Alright?”

You giggle playfully, making Jungkook frown. It’s actually quite a sexy look on him.

“Kidding. I like it”, you say, grinning when this makes Jungkook roll his eyes at you.

“Pick them up.”

“Huh?”

“Pick up the handcuffs”, Jungkook repeats the order. His voice sounds sterner than before.

You follow with a chuckle, snatching them from the mattress to tangle them from your fingers instead.

“And now?”

“Put them around your wrist.”

“Like this?” you ask, messing it up on purpose.

Jungkook grabs your wrist harshly, genuinely flustering you. He is still frowning, working skillfully to close the shackles. First your right then your left. He twists the chain between them and tugs your hands closer. 

“Like this”, he says.

“Well damn. That’s one way to do it”, you murmur, gazing into his dark eyes.

“How do they feel?” he asks.

“Good”, you rasp, gawking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re just really hot”, you say, making him blush and lower his eyes. 

“Heh”, he lets out, gazing into your eyes. His hand slips between your legs again, massaging your inner thigh. You feel hot instantly, tensing your muscles in desperation. 

And as he runs his fingers over your skin, he continues talking.  

“I want to hook you to the bed by the handcuffs. What do you think of that?”

“Sounds constricting.”

“Yeah”, he places his hand over your pussy, moving his fingers as slowly as possible. 

You gasp because of it, parting your legs.

“I promise that it’ll feel nice. Like this”, he rasps, parting your folds with two of his fingers. He feels you up. Once. Twice. His touch retreats, desperation remains. 

“Jungkook”, you breathe, closing your fingers around a bundle of his shirt. 

Jungkook’s hooded eyes flit down to them, the right corner of his lips curls into a smirk. He touches your inner thigh, basking in the squirm you do because of it. 

“Can I call you cute?” he asks. 

“Cute?”

“Are you comfortable with being called that way?”

“Only when you say it. Why?”

He moves closer, squeezing your thigh and eliciting a loud gasp from you. His dark eyes flit to your lips, his breath tickles you as he speaks.

“Because you’re so fucking cute when you squirm for me”, he rasps, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Goddamn it, Kook”, you whisper, aching for a kiss. 

Jungkook purrs and smirks. He stubs you with his nose, getting to his feet afterwards with you in his arms bridal style. His muscles tense, he bounces you in his arms twice to get a better grip. And you are dizzy. Seriously, you are dizzy. You expected anything, but not for Jungkook to be so good at controlling a scene. 

Jungkook sets you down on the bed carefully, placing you in the middle of it and soothing you by caressing your cheek. 

“Are you comfortable?” he makes sure.

“Yeah, I am”, you assure him.

“Okay. Good. Lift your arms, I’m tying you down”, he orders and you obey. 

He grabs the rope, guiding it to your handcuffs to tie you down. He prepared the rope for tonight. Black tossa yute. He likes the feel of it and the colour. He thinks that it fits the overall vibe he is trying to go for. Dark and mysterious.

Jungkook finishes the knot, running his fingers down your arms and making you writhe in the process. His touch tingles like crazy.

“How is that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you answer him, studying his face, “what now?”

“Now? I’m taking my time with you. You’re so beautiful, It’d be a shame not to”, he says, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He pulls one knee up, placing his arm across your waist. Like this, he is propped up on his hand, facing you with sparkly eyes. 

He runs them up and down your torso and as the seconds become longer and longer, those sparkles get replaced by hungry fire.  

You feel on fire too. Sharing silence with him. Being gazed upon. Building tension. Jungkook hasn’t touched you yet and somehow this is driving you insane. 

Jungkook moves. Finally. His touch lays itself upon your stomach. His warmth seeps through the shirt, your skin is covered in goosebumps. He caresses you, squeezes you afterwards. Strong and desperate. 

Jungkook locks eyes with you. They are dark and half-lidded. 

“You’re so fucking sexy in my shirt”, he rasps, voice deeper than usual, “I’m so addicted to you.”

“Addicted?” you gasp.

“Yeah”, he purrs, running his hand up your tummy and sternum until he reaches your throat. He doesn’t touch it, knowing that you don’t want him to go there. Instead he lifts his hand so only his fingertips are touching you. He tugs at the collar of the shirt, giving you a glimpse of what he will do next. “I’m running on nothing but you.”

You feel good from his sweet words. He always knows what to say. Jungkook slips his fingers to the upper most button of the shirt. 

“Can I start to undress you?” he asks

“Yes, you can”, you allow him, feeling incredibly safe right now. You didn’t for a second feel fear for tonight. There is a reason why you don’t want to sub. Not only for the most obvious one that Domming just feels a lot better to you and it comes natural to you, but also because being a sub in the past hurt you. The men you had to sleep with at your job hurt you, fucked you into non-consensual submission and left without making sure to fix what they broke. Quite frankly, being someone’s sub traumatised you.

But you weren’t scared of tonight because you aren’t scared of Jungkook. You could never be scared of Jungkook. Especially not when it comes to kink. He respects you, loves you and cherishes you. You told him that you needed him to ask permission for every new step he takes and he does. He is asking, going slow, making sure that he only proceeds once he gets your clear verbal consent. This is everything you needed and Jungkook is showing you once again that you can always trust him and count on him. And it is enough to make you feel safe enough that you willingly let yourself get tied up and therefore rendered helpless.

He undresses you slowly. Button by button. Each time he opens a new one, he feels up your skin with featherlight touches. There are ten buttons on his shirt, by the time you mentally counted to ten, you are aching for his touch. You really, really are. 

Jungkook retreats his hand, letting the situation hang in the air. Your shirt is still closed except for a little slit having formed in the middle. Technically you are still dressed, but feel naked already. Naked and desperate. 

“How was that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you get out, “Jungkook, hurry up.”

“Patience”, he soothes you, caressing your hip. 

“I hate patience”, you say and huff out air. 

“No you don’t, you’re telling me to be patient all the time”, he retorts and goddamn it hits right where it hurts the most.

“No need to throw my own bomb back at me”, you mumble, making him snicker.

You send him a pout, one that Jungkook wipes away instantly with a soft caress to your chin.

“You’re so cute”, he whispers, making you roll your eyes fondly.

He retreats his hand, touching your exposed collarbone instead. 

“I’ll get on top of you for now. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good, that’s good”, Jungkook says and climbs on bed, claiming his spot right atop your lap. His slacks are struggling around his thighs and butt, stretching to their limit. The view is seriously making your mouth water. 

Jungkook sits down on you. Nicely heavy and warm. That’s how he feels. And weirdly enough, he feels in charge. Despite how normally submissive he is in this position, tonight he feels in charge and you are starting to enjoy it more and more. At least for tonight. He is so hot when he is bossy. 

Your eyes flit from his meaty thighs to his hands. He is currently fixing the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, making sure that you get the perfect view of his lower arms and working fingers. He ends it by running his fingertips down his own skin, rocking back and forth on you just once. 

He is so hot without even trying. No wonder you’re so irrevocably in love with him.

He lowers himself, hands coming to rest on each side of your head and dark eyes running over your face.

“You’re so pretty”, he rasps.

“And you’re drooling.”

“Mhm proudly”, he says, giving you a cute grin, “I’ll start to open your shirt now and I’ll touch you as I do. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good. Relax for me, my love. You’re in good hands”, he whispers and sits up, placing his hands on your tummy to feel up your torso. He stops once he reaches the collar of your shirt, hooking his fingers in it to tug it open. 

And so it begins. The addicting game of undress. Jungkook goes slow, eyes running over your body adoringly and fingers tracing your skin ever so often.

“I love it when you wear my shirts”, he whispers in a raspy voice.

“I know, you’re not good at hiding it”, you say, gazing at him.

“Who said I wanna hide it?”

“Hah. Sweet talker.”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he lets out and lowers his lips to your neck. He kisses the tender spot where your neck meets your collarbone. You find yourself sighing his name because of it, rolling your head to the side to give him better access. 

One Jungkook takes gladly, trailing his kisses along your neck while his fingers feel up your upper sides. His touch tickles in an amazing way. 

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, “I’m so lucky. Seriously so lucky”, you adds and swirls his tongue down your neck. 

“Ah”, you let out at the sensation, writhing in bliss. His tongue is so wet and warm, leaving behind a tingling cold sensation where the air hits your skin. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around a spot on your upper chest and sucks. It feels gentle at first until a small sting shoots through you. 

“Kookie”, you let out and luckily for you, Jungkook slips his lips from your skin to kiss a loving trail down to your breasts.

“My queen”, he whispers, “you’re mine. All mine. I love my queen so much”, he says and lifts his gaze to look at you.

“I love you too”, you tell him with a fluttering tummy. 

“Heh”, he lets out and lowers himself back to your chest, “my love, can I worship your breasts?”

“Yes, you can.”

“Thank you, you are so beautiful. I wanna make you feel so good”, he whispers and begins kissing your skin. He moans and sighs as he does, running his hands over your curves and rocking his hips back and forth on your lap. 

It feels so good. He is so gentle in his touches and loving in his kisses. Every second with him feels like a dream. A warm and safe dream. By the time Jungkook lifts his lips from your chest for the first time, you are so charged in pleasure that you actually whine.

“What was that?” he asks, tracing your ribs right under your breasts.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he smiles boyishly, “are you sure? Because it sounded like a whine to me.”

He makes you frown and pout. He chuckles because of it, wiggling his hips.

“You’re a tease”, you get out and arch your back, “fuck Kookie, my nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, they’re really swollen too”, he says and rubs his fingers against them. The touch makes you arch into him again, forcing your lips to produce a soft moan. Jungkook circles his hips and moans with you, “that feels so good. Your nipples are so, so pretty.”

“Kook, seriously”, you sigh, “it’s driving me insane.”

“It’s starting to work, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“My plan to ruin you.”

You open your eyes, sending him a look. Jungkook snickers because of it, giving you a playful smile. 

“Look at you enjoying this”, you murmur, “so mean.”

He snickers with even more boyishness in his eyes, sliding his hands to your waist and leaning some of his weight on you. 

“Are you still enjoying it?”

“I am. A lot.”

“That’s so nice to hear. Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he says and leans down to smooch your lips. He cups your cheeks, rubbing his nose against yours as he wiggles his hips, “do you really like it a lot?”

“Yes, I really do. You feel so good.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he giggles, “that makes me so, so happy. I wanna be such a good Dom to you, Mommy.”

“You’re cute, Bunny. Also, I thought I’m not your Mommy tonight?”

“Oh”, Jungkook lifts his head, blinking at you with widened eyes, “I uh…”

You laugh, “don’t worry, love. I’m just gonna act like you didn’t say that.”

“God”, he lowers his eyes shyly, “thank you. I can’t stop calling you that. It comes so natural to me.”

“It’s alright. You’re still in charge, don’t worry.”

“Okay, okay”, he grins cutely, “I want to do the next step to you.”

“Okay? What do you wanna do?”

“I wanna use the juice to get my mouth colder and then run it over your body”, his eyes shift to your nipples, his thumbs draw light circles on them, “especially your nipples”, he adds in a breathy whisper.

“That’s hot, do it”, you allow him, arching into his touch.

“Okay. Stay, don’t go anywhere”, he says and snickers at his joke as he climbs off your lap.

“Stupid noodle”, you murmur, smiling to yourself.

He skips back to the bed in happy steps and sits down on your lap again. He carries the flute of juice in his left hand, lifting it to his lips to take a sip. He swallows it, keeping up eye contact as he does. Once done, he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

You retort it, arching into his hand as he runs it over your torso. He cradles your breasts and massages them gently.

“The juice is so yummy”, he says and leans down to dance his cold lips over your chest.

“Mhhm”, you purr, closing your eyes in pleasure. His fingers are so warm, his touch so hot and yet his lips are so cold. The contrast of sensations makes you tingle like crazy.

Jungkook sits up and takes another sip. He keeps just enough in his mouth so he could wrap his lips round your nipple and make you feel the sensation. Wet and cold. Goosebumps form on your chest because of it. The tingle snakes all the way down to your pussy.

“God”, you chuckle, squirming desperately, “that’s cold. Hah.”

Jungkook swallows the juice, ending it by sucking on your nipple. You are so goddamn sensitive already that you have to close your legs and rub them together.

“Bunny…”

Jungkook lifts his lips, moaning softly. He looks up at you with sparkly eyes, smiling sweetly. 

“You’re so sweet”, he says, “I love your nipples so much.”

“You’re such a tease”, you whisper.

Jungkook scrunches his nose and sits up. He lifts the flute of juice and guides it over your tummy. 

“This isn’t gonna go well”, you tell him, watching with a dizzy head.

He tilts the glass.

“Bunny, listen to me. It’s gonna go everywhere.”

But Jungkook doesn’t listen. He tilts the flute and lets the juice trickle down onto your tummy. It goes well at first until it gets too much and the juice escapes down your sides. 

“Oh no”, he gasps, leaning down quickly to slurp it up from your tummy. 

“See?” you laugh, “you stupid noodle, you should have listened. I know what’s up.”

Jungkook slurps one last time, then licks up and down your tummy with the flat of his tongue. You have to be honest, that shit feels amazing. Cold at first until his hot mouth warms you up again.

He guides his mouth to your lower tummy, nibbling at your tenderness with his teeth tugged behind his lips. You squirm and giggle. 

Jungkook lifts his head, grinning up at you.

“This was all part of my plan”, he very obviously lies, “I wanted the juice to go everywhere so I can lick your tummy.”

“Mhm sure”, you say sarcastically and snicker, “you’re such a stupid noodle.”

“Heh”, he lets out and sits up. There is one sip left in the glass. He decides to trickle it over your tummy again. It spills again, making you chuckle and glance at him. He does the same, “all part of the plan.”

“Sure.”

Jungkook grins and leans down, slurping up the sweet juice while his hands run up and down your sides. The empty glass he discarded on the bed for now. 

Once clean again, he guides his eager tongue up to your breasts. His mouth is warmed up by now, it feels like fire around your nipples as he sucks and licks them. One at a time with equal amounts of attention shared between them. 

And while he does, he is rolling his hips on your lap, squeezing his thighs around you needily. He is even whimpering like the natural babyboy he is. If you weren’t so tied up and ruined in desperation, you would have grabbed him and flipped him to give him the fuck he deserved. 

But you aren’t in control tonight. At least, you pretend to be. 

“Jungkook more”, and so you beg, feeling not an ounce of shame in doing so. He makes you feel so safe that it doesn’t feel weird to beg. 

Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your equally as puffy nipples. His fingers continue to play with them even when he sits up. His hips wiggle and roll against you, his butt is stuck out as he arches his back. 

This whole situation really is one big roleplay, you think as you watch him pose so instinctively submissive. 

“Did you just beg?” he asks, melting you with it. He is so cute.

“And if I did?” you answer him, thrusting your hips up. Jungkook squeaks and moans, pressing his thighs together. Cute. He is so adorable, “I need more, please.”

“Oh god”, he chokes out and wiggles his hips, “okay. Yes”, he nods his head vigorously and gives your nipples a soft pinch.

The sensation makes you sigh and arch your back.

“I want to use a rabbit on you”, he smiles with his eyes, “not me, an actual rabbit vibe.”

You roll your eyes, “you stupid noodle, that joke was terrible”, you say with a fond grin. 

“Hehe”, he lets out and leans down, forcing heat to rise to your cheeks from just how seductive he suddenly looks. Playful and terribly cute, but still very seductive, “can I use a toy on you, please?”

“Yes you can”, you whisper, eyes hypnotised by his lips. They are so wet and puffy from sucking your nipples. And so pink. You want to kiss him so fucking bad.

“Thank you. Now stay here, I’ll get the toy”, he says, kissing your forehead once before climbing off bed and strutting to the big toy wall. He discards the glass on a table while he is at it.

You and he are very proud of your collection. It took a few years to get it where it is today and you are still not done. Each toy has its separate compartment, while your more aesthetic toys even have their own display case. The rabbit vibrator was a White Day present from Jungkook. Dark pink and soft silicone. The toy is both controlled by buttons and over its very own app. Sometimes when Jungkook is on a business trip and you have sex over a video call, you use said rabbit to get off while Jungkook is the one controlling the pattern. Obviously he knows that he can only get his very own reward if he gives you a good pattern and until now, he has never disappointed. 

Jungkook closes the drawer and returns to the bed, but not before grabbing your favourite lube. 

You also use the rabbit to jerk off whenever Jungkook is not in the mood for sex or you are too lazy to ask him and need simple, quick relief. And on your most favourite occasions, you use the toy to get off Jungkook, stuffing his ass with it and using its curve to torture his prostate while the smaller side presses against his balls. Jungkook shakes like crazy whenever you do that.

Jungkook places the lube bottle and toy next to you on the mattress. He touches your legs, running his palms down to your ankles.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“That”, he says, grabs you by your ankles and pulls your legs apart.

You squeak right along with your feet as they slide over the PVC cover.

“Jungkook why?” you laugh, “oh my fucking god.”

“I’m sorry, it’s always so hot when you do it. Did you not like it?”

“I did, don’t worry, just fuck. You’re better at that than I thought you would be.”

Jungkook grins cockily, “what can I say? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a stupid noodle that’s what you are”, you say with a fond giggle.

“Yeah…I like being your stupid noodle. It makes you laugh. I love making you laugh.”

“God Kookie, you’re so cute.”

“Heh”, he lets out and places himself between your open legs. He places the rabbit on your tummy, resting his hand on the sheets next to your pussy. Then he flashes you a cute smile, “you’re pretty.”

“God Kookie, I love you so much which is why I’m gonna tell you something now. Hurry the fuck up”, you say and groan, bucking your hips up in desperation.

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders.

“It’s not fun is it?” he teases and kisses your knee, “now you know how I feel when you tease me.”

“If I knew you would use tonight as a revenge scheme I’d have said no”, you joke, making his laughter grow.

He smooches your other knee then flashes you a smile.

“I’ll get started, yeah?” he says.

“Yeah”, you stress, opening your legs further.

Despite his words, Jungkook takes his sweet time in getting the toy ready. He picks it up from your tummy and spreads lube over its silicon shaft as slowly as possible, all while his pretty doe eyes switch between the toy and your face.

“Kook…” you warn.

He looks at you and smiles, “patience. I’m almost done.”

“You’re such a tease.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He merely smiles and connects his lubed up fingers with your pussy.

You hiss at the contact, rolling your hips into his touch. It feels like ecstasy to be touched by him. His fingers are so gentle and know exactly where to touch.

“You’re so wet”, he lulls, massaging your pussy in slow circles. First your clit and folds, then he lingers on your entrance.

“Fuck, baby”, you moan softly.

Jungkook slips his fingers inside, forcing your body to shudder in pleasure. The breach feels so good that you have to grip the ropes and arch your back. Jungkook watches it happening with his cock straining his slacks. He didn’t dare to imagine you twisting ropes like this and yet here you are, twisting the ropes because of how good he makes you feel. He swallows down the mewl threatening to escape him and instead channels his desperation into curling his fingers just right.

“That feels so good”, you sigh, rolling your head to the side, “fuck.”

“I love this so much”, he confesses with his voice trembling, “you’re so soft.”

“More.”

Jungkook smiles because you are twisting the ropes again and you don’t even notice it. He’s really got you desperate, hasn’t he? He feels his heart flutter and his tummy turn in desire. This is so sexy to him.

He slips his fingers free, even if you whine, and guides the vibrator to your pussy. Your whines stops, desperate breathing replaces them.

“Take a deep breath for me”, he orders in a soft voice, listening to the way your breath hitches in your throat. He puts gentle pressure on your pussy and slips inside.

“Jungkook”, you release your breath in a moan of his name, clenching around the toy with your fingers closing around the ropes again.

“Keep breathing, my love. Keep breathing”, Jungkook talks you through it, staring at your pussy with dilated pupils. She looks so pretty around the toy, fitting right around it. As if you were made for it. Jungkook squeezes his legs together and pushes the last two inches inside, “done. How are you?”

“Turn it on, please.”

“Did you just beg again?”

“Fuck, shut up and do it”, you throw back in a chuckle, sending him a look.

Jungkook snickers, scrunching his nose up, “you’re so cute”, he says and presses the on button. The toy begins purring and humming, sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Holy shit”, your eyes roll back and fall closed, your legs open further, “Jungkook….”

“That’s it. Relax”, he speaks in whispers, moving the toy back and forth carefully, “how’s that, my love?”

“Good, really good just…move the clit part a little to the left.”

Jungkook fixes the position, “like this?”

“Yes”, you groan, rolling your hips up, “yes there. Keep that going. Jungkook, right there.”

“This makes me so hard”, he confesses in a mewl. He gets on his knees, squeezing his cock between his thighs this way. He keeps rubbing them together, finding relief that way. He knows that it’s not the most dominant position, but he can’t help himself. He loves it so much when he can serve you! He loves making you feel good, moan and shake. He loves it so much that he gets so horny that he just has to rub his cock against whatever is closest. And tonight his clothed thighs are the closest friction he can get and he chases it like a needy bunny while his hand never once messes up the rhythm of the toy.

It is not long and he has you arching your back for an orgasm. Your thighs are trembling and your fingers ache from twisting the ropes.

“Jungkook, I have to cum”, you confess in a moan, readying yourself for the amazing high with bated breath. You just know that the orgasm is going to feel like heaven. He managed to rile you up so much that it will consume your entire body. You can’t wait to have it.

In three, two…

Jungkook removes the toy from your pussy and turns it off. The fire dies down, agony replaces it.

“What the hell?” you groan, writhing in pain, “holy fuck, did you just edge me?”

Your eyes meet. While you are genuinely shocked by what just happened, Jungkook seems proud of himself.

“Yeah”, he says.

“What the fuck?”

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders. 

“No seriously, what the fuck? Why would you do that?” you press out. He never edged you without your orders before. This is a fucking first and goddamn, it riles you up.

“Because I can”, he throws back and grins.

“You are. So. Mean”, you get out and drop your head, “holy shit, I wanna cum.”

Jungkook snickers, running his hands down your thighs. He pushes them apart gently and lowers himself to your pussy. He plops down on his tummy and finally connects his mouth with your heat.

You flinch at the sudden wet warmth around your pussy, tugging at the ropes so aggressively that the rings jingle.

“Jungkook”, you choke out, “Jungkook, holy fuck.”

Jungkook mewls into you, lapping at your wet pussy with his sparkly eyes gazing up at you. You taste sweet like the lube he covered you in. He licks you until the taste has faded and only the amazing taste of your pleasure coats his tongue. He loves this taste so much more than the tacky artificial sweetness of lube.

He closes his arms around your thighs and tugs you closer, slurping deliciously as he drinks your taste.

“You’re fucking amazing”, you get out, writhing in pleasure, “I’m fucking serious, you’re amazing.”

Jungkook fucks the mattress because of your praise, moaning into your pussy desperately. He runs his palms up and down your tender thighs, soothing the shakes running through them each time he runs his eager tongue over your clit. He loves those shakes so much that he wants them to run through you constantly. He focuses his licks on your clit, switching between drawing circles and flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen bundle of nerves. He knows that this drives you crazy.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you confess, shaking unapologetically.

Jungkook mewls and puts more pressure on your clit. He wants you to be as close to orgasming as possible. He has to get you as needy as you can get for what he has planned next. Your clit throbs under his tongue, but he knows not to pull back yet. It often throbs when he’s going down on you, this isn’t an indicator yet. In your beginnings, Jungkook often pulled back when you began throbbing under his tongue because he thought that you would orgasm, but years and years of practice and routine taught him that this wasn’t a sign yet. You just have a very reactive clit. Especially when his mouth is involved.

Jungkook listens to the noises you make. They are currently loud and filled with desperation. Good. That means he can still continue. You get quieter, the closer you get, because you always start holding your breath when you are about to orgasm. Jungkook knows that much. 

He speeds up his licks and moans into you so can feel the vibrations. 

“Oh, ah-”, you twist the ropes and hold your breath. 

Now.

Jungkook breaks away.

“Oh my fucking god, you didn’t just- urgh”, you groan and thrust your hips against nothing, “how did you know?”

Jungkook feels so incredibly proud right now. He knows you so well!

“Years of practice”, he says. He tries his hardest to sound dominant and confident, but his voice is shaking like crazy because of how happy he feels.

“This is the worst. Why do you know me so well?” you murmur and whine, “please Kookie, do something again.”

“No”, he says, hoping for one more beg.

“Yes?” you throw back, “please”, you add, meaning it honestly.

Jungkook giggles, “I love it when you beg”, he says. He sits up and reaches for the vibrator. 

“Yes. This”, you murmur, eyeing it hungrily.

He spreads new lube on it and your pussy and pushes it back inside, turning it on.

“Yes this”, you moan, rolling your head from side to side, “this is….ah.”

Jungkook makes minimal movements with the toy. He wants it to keep pressing against your g-spot because he knows that he’s got you horny enough that this is what you need. You love it so much when he goes deep and slow whenever you’re far enough into the sex. It’s those moments where you pull him closer with your legs when you’re doing it missionary and those moments where you grind down on him when you’re riding him. Jungkook can hear it in the way your moans leave you.

“Does that feel good?” he rasps.

“It feels so good”, you moan, circling your hips as you keep chasing the pleasure.

Jungkook mewls and looks at your pussy. He just noticed that your clit isn’t getting stimulated. He quickly fixes the position of the toy, forcing your hips to thrust into the sensation.

“Holy shit”, you press out under your breath and then you begin to grow more and more silent as you hold your breath for longer and longer.

Jungkook circles the toy.

Silence. You are holding your breath.

Jungkook removes the toy.

“Noo Bunny, can’t you let Mommy cum?” you whine, writhing on the sheets. 

“I’m sorry Mommy, I can’t”, Jungkook says, putting the now turned off toy on the sheets.

“Fucking hell urgh”, you groan, chasing his fleeing touch as your fingers twist the ropes.

Jungkook soothes the agony by running his hands up and down your inner thighs, placing soft kisses on your knee. 

“Sorry Mommy, so sorry”, he whispers.

“No you’re not, you’re enjoying this”, you grumble. 

Jungkook snickers, climbing on top of you. He places his hands on each side of your head, gazing down at you. He is arching his back. Even now when he is the one charge, he finds himself in such a fuckable posture naturally. 

“Can you tell me your colour?” he asks, rocking back and forth mindlessly. 

“Green, but a really edged green.” 

He scrunches his nose up, giggles. You chuckle, gazing at him.

“You’re so funny”, he says, booping your nose with his finger.

You shake him off, huffing out air as you pretend to be angry. You even furrow your brows at him.

“Make me cum, you brat”, you grumble.

Jungkook snickers and kisses your forehead, “you calling me like that doesn’t work on me tonight.”

“Hmpf, you meanie”, you mumble.

“I’m sorry”, he coos and turns on your body so you have his clothed cock right above your face.

“Really?” you laugh, oggling it hungrily. It is a miracle to you how his slacks still manage to contain his cock. It is filling up his left pant leg, bulging the fabric painfully. Poor boy must be in so much pain right now. You gulp, yearning for his cock in your mouth. He must be so wet by now. You want him running down your throat and throbbing against your tongue.

“Get naked and let me suck your pretty cock”, you order.

“No”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips teasingly. He knows exactly what he is doing. 

“You’re such a brat. Do as you’re told.”

“I don’t have to do anything”, he snickers cutely, “I’m in charge.”

“Wow”, you laugh and writhe, “fuck, you drive me insane.”

“I know”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips one last time. You growl and try to snatch him by lifting your head, but he moves away. Your eyes meet. He looks so full of mischief and entertainment. The giggles he lets out are indicator enough just how much he enjoys being a little brat tonight. And you can’t even be mad at him, because he is in charge and can do whatever he wants. Oh, you are crazy for this man. 

“Once I’m free again, you’ll see what this gets you”, you mumble and huff out air. 

“Mhm okay”, he purrs and grins. Then he turns away again. He arches his back and lowers himself to your pussy.

“Bunny”, you gasp, arching into him. This feels like heaven. His mouth is so warm and wet, his lips are so soft. 

Jungkook grips your hips and tilts them up, moaning around your clit as he sucks on her needily. He moves his head as he sucks, rubbing his cute nose through your folds as best as the position allows him to.

“Yes Bunny. Fuck, that feels so good.”

He loves sixty-nining with you so much. Bear in mind, his favourite variation of the position is when he is tied up, blindfolded and plugged up while you smother him and suck his cock. This is what really gets him going, but this right now is heaven as well. You taste like lube again, but Jungkook cleans it off within a few seconds. Then your unfiltered, raw taste coats his tongue and Jungkook finds himself moaning around your clit even louder.

“Holy fuck, please don’t stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he could stop again. You taste so good that he feels dizzy. He wanted to edge you with his mouth one more time and then make you cum with the vibrator, but he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do that. Jealousy stings in his chest when he thinks about making you climax with a toy. He doesn’t want the toy to be the thing which sends you off. He wants to be the one making you see stars. He wants you to fall silent in bliss because of his mouth and not because of a stupid toy.

Jungkook growls into you and furrows his brows. It’s decided then. The toy won’t get your orgasm, never ever. He will make you cum with his mouth. Yes, that’s it.

“I’m close”, you get out and whimper, “please Jungkook, don’t edge me anymore.”

You aren’t aware that your begging is useless. Jungkook already made up his mind. He is going to make you cum. He growls around your clit, sucking it between his lips harshly. And he keeps it right there, suckling on it with his cock throbbing in his slacks. So good. You taste so good.

“Jungkook”, you mewl, sounding so utterly ruined, “Jungkook, you’re making me cum.”

He whimpers, dimpling your hips as he grips them harder.

“Ah”, you let out and then grow silent.

Jungkook mewls at the realisation, concentrating all of his attention on the spot which made you go silent.

“Fuck. Now”, you press out and thrust your hips up. The knot in your tummy bursts, the hottest orgasm takes a hold of you, “Jungkook”, you moan loudly, shaking uncontrollably. As much as you hate to admit it, you are glad that he edged you because this is paradise. You haven’t felt your climax as deeply as you do right now in ages. This is the kind of high which genuinely makes your toes curl and which makes your muscles go limb.

Jungkook licks you through it, keening in a high pitched voice as his head pounds in pleasure. This was the best decision ever. You feel so good when you are climaxing on his tongue. He can barely stop himself after your high died down, whimpering your name as he kisses your pussy over and over again. 

“Well shit, holy shit. Fuck”, you get out in breathy pants for air. Your body refuses to move, your head is turning. You feel so goddamn fulfilled. This was incredible.

Jungkook guides his kisses up your torso, crawling off of you gradually. He grabs your face and kisses you in the unfamiliar position. With your heads facing opposite directions, he has to suck on your upper lip.

You snicker and moan. It never gets boring with him. 

“Hm”, Jungkook hums and breaks the kiss with a cute smile. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks, gazing down at you. 

“Did you like this?” he asks.

“I loved it.”

“Then you have to thank me.”

You lift your brows, “really?”

“Yeah”, he says in a giggle, nodding his head.

“Wow okay”, you smile fondly, “thank you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook snickers and scrunches his nose up, “you’re welcome”, he says and pulls your face into a big smooch. 

Just once because then he sits up and runs his hands to your tied wrists. He opens the ropes and handcuffs, picking up your freed wrists to caress them gently.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks.

“No, nothing hurts.”

“Good”, he rolls circles into the tender inner side of your wrists, “you kept twisting the ropes”, he says and sends you a boyish grin.

“I did not”, you lie, making him snicker.

“Yes, you did. Admit it, you were really desperate.”

“Mhm yeah I was”, you admit happily, basking in the giddy giggles he lets out. 

You sit up and turn around. Now you are both kneeling, facing each other. You run your hands up his thighs, waist and chest until you can cup his cheeks. Jungkook squirms because of the touch.

“You did an amazing job, Bunny”, you praise him, “I was only that desperate because I felt safe.”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, gripping your wrists, “this is everything I wanted you to feel. I’m so happy.” 

“I’m happy too, my love”, you tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek, “good job, my love.” 

Jungkook giggles and hugs you, swaying your bodies from side to side enthusiastically.

“Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he confesses, squeezing you gently, “and, and now I’ll take you out for dinner and, and treat you to yummy dessert.”

“Yeah? What about your cock? You’re so hard in your slacks”, you say, running your hand up and down his bulge.

“I want to go out with it”, he talks breathily because of the touch, “you can do whatever you think is right to do. In the restaurant or the car or, or wherever you think is fitting.”

You smirk, “mhm okay”, you purr, kissing his neck gently, “so I take it that order has been restored, mhm?”

He giggles and nods his head, “yes Mommy.”

[hellishjoel]

hi!! congrats on 7k, you deserve it! your writing is amazing and has brightened so many of my days!

Now: I was thinking 🍒 with prompts 9 & 10 for Joel, can’t wait to see what you come up with!

repeat it

1k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

smutty one-liners: “Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.” & “If we weren’t in public right now…”

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak jackson, implied but unspecified age gap, swearing, size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, pet names, public-ish oral (m!receiving), pov switching, reader is described as having hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n 

---

Joel’s patience is thin as ice. 

Tommy follows his brother’s stare clean across the warped wooden floors of the Tipsy Bison. He watches as a young woman sways her hips to a song playing on the old jukebox with a glittery smile, with a body too gorgeous not to gawk at. 

“If we weren’t in public right now…” Tommy mutters before doing a low, appreciative whistle at the woman before him. 

The tension in Joel’s jaw is tightening, ready to snap. 

He wishes you were his, has felt that for quite a long time.

Perhaps it was after his first few days in Jackson, and he saw you milling around the market during winter with a small wooden basket. Or maybe it was when spring was finally turning its heel into the Wyoming weather, and you had shed a few layers to let the sun warm your skin. 

He remembers staring for what felt like too long, but not long enough for him. 

Joel was a man on the edge, a primal desire for you and only you. So how long was he just going to fucking sit here? 

He watches as you break for air, stepping out into the summer night for the gentle breeze to cool your skin. 

“Mr. Miller,” your voice coos, despite your back being to him. You know his presence by now. “Was wondering when you were going to ask me for a dance.” 

There’s that glittery smile again. The one that’s hard to say no to, the one he can’t say no to. 

“Ain’t askin’ you t’dance.” Joel’s voice is low, growled, and you see in his eyes what he wants. 

There’s not a lot of privacy in Jackson, so when he tugs you to the side of the bar in little protection of shadows, your eyes widen. He wants you here? Now?!

“Joel,” you whisper in a panic, but his mouth is already on yours. He can’t help himself. You look so pretty, bet you taste just as sweet. It takes a moment to adjust, but your arms quickly encircle around his neck as you tug the tall man ever so closer. 

You can hear people walking on the dirt road just feet away, the chitter-chatter of voices as Joel tugs down your shirt to put your bare breasts on display. You whimper as he tugs your fingers to his belt buckle. 

“Joel, people might see, we shouldn’t-”

“Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talkin’ nonsense.”

That shuts you up real quick and forces a pool of saliva to fill your mouth as you work to undo his belt with need.

Joel’s hands wind into your hair as you sink to your knees, his body weight relying solely on the makeshift exterior of the Tipsy Bison. 

“Gotta be quiet now.” He mutters, watching as you unveil him and shuck his jeans down to his knees, along with his briefs. 

Joel takes pleasure in watching you admire his hard cock, your eyes softening and going doe as your hand works over him in earnest, spit dribbling from your lips as you lube him up. 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, running his thumb along your cheekbone as you kiss along his beady red tip. 

He hisses as you wrap your hot mouth around his angry head, feeling him weep dribbles of precum into your mouth. 

You feel so fucking good, he’s holding himself together with nothing more but paper stilts. His chest labors as you hollow your cheeks and take his length in earnest. He relishes in the gagging noise that echoes from your throat whenever you take him too deep. 

“That’a’girl, take me so fuckin’ well, don’t you baby?” 

The praise forces a moan around his cock, the vibration going straight to his balls as he quietly grunts. 

Your eyes stray to the busy street from all the lewd noises you two are making. You sweat and whimper at the thought of something seeing you on your knees with Joel Miller’s cock down your throat. 

A pair of men wander past, drunk and falling out of the bar, distracted as ever as you burrow closer into Joel’s front. 

You force your nose to bury itself in the coarse hair below his stomach, attempting to hide yourself from curious eyes as you deepthroat him and attempt to breathe around him quietly. 

Worst of all, the Tipsy Bison’s hanging lamp sways with the breeze, sometimes shining light on the lower half of your body, your tits out and nipples hardening at the thought. 

“Hey,” Joel barks, “don’t look at them, look at me.” His harsh voice snaps you back to reality, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him faster as your eyes meet his own. 

You watch as they dilute into pleasure, his cherry lips parting as his eyes lose focus and finally dip close. His hips shift, half-bucking into your mouth and half holding himself back. 

He seems to like it when you take all of him, shaking your head from side to side as his fist tugs tighter and causes a prickle of pain along your scalp. 

“Holy fuck, I’m- sweet Jesus,” he grunts as bursts of his white hot cum shoot down your throat. You gag the entire time, but Joel holds you there, moaning discreetly. He’s salty and musky and all man. 

Your knees ache and your upper half is freezing, but you don’t care as you watch him finish deep inside you, wondering what it would feel like if he finished in your pussy. 

Your thighs squeeze together at the thought, Joel finally yanking you back as his cock falls wet against his thigh. You work through shaky breaths and wipe under your eyes, Joel helping you to your feet once he’s tucked himself away. 

“You keep that mouth just for me, got it?” 

You don’t trust your wobbly voice, freshly damn near face fucked, so all you can do is nod. But that doesn’t satisfy him.

“Repeat it.” 

---

a/n: well anon thank you for THAT! PHEW!

Join my Casino Night!

[rhaenella]

idk if ur reqs are open but im obsessed with ur account. i was wondering if u could do a smau of any driver (other than danny ric) x pbr!reader. like shes the only woman to ever compete at NFR in bull riding. shes also 19 and doesnt ride with a helmet (just a cowboy hat) shes also like yhe biggest rodeo barbie you could imagine.

Firstly, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to work on your request, end of the year stuff and other wips got in the way 🫠 Anyways, I decided on Max for this because I almost immediately thought of him and his little Texas outfit 🥰 Also, I have to admit that my (non-American) knowledge of professional bull riding consisted primarily of The Longest Ride so excuse any inaccuracies, but I tried my best to read up on it! That being said, I hope it’s to your liking :) 

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

MV1 | Season of Champions

pairing: max verstappen x pbr!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and max are each other's biggest supporters as max tries to secure his 3rd world championship title, whilst you're fighting for your 1st in a previously all male dominated sport

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by wagsf1, user3 and 135,092 others

mv.y/nupdates: Tomorrow our girl can secure one of the few select spots in the NFR finals!!! Unfortunately Max can’t be there due to his own race in Qatar, but we’ll be sure to cheer them both on ❤️

View all 712 comments

user1: they’re gonna kill it on both sides of the atlantic

user2: POWER COUPLE

user3: omg i hope y/n wins 🙏 she deserves this so much

user4: my alarm is set for 4 am to support y/n 🫡

user5: are you taking a nap between their races??

user4: lol obviously

user5: same 😂 it’s a tough life stanning max & y/n

7 October

Liked by y/n, mv.y/nupdates and 112,363 others

pbr: y/n y/l/n becomes the first woman in history to qualify for the NFR finals in Las Vegas in December! Congrats on this incredible achievement, y/n. See you in Sin City⚡️

View all 674 comments

user6: OMG SHE DID IT ❤️❤️❤️

user7: i’m so proud of her, i’ve literally been here since day 1

user8: remember when she used to do rodeo and everyone told her she could never go into pbr… look at her NOW 🔥

user9: she gave her hat to the little girl in the front row 😭❤️

user10: yep i cried

user11: y/n is not only the best, she is the SWEETEST

8 October

Liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 805,298 others

y/n: There aren’t words to describe how it feels to finally have my childhood dream come true. I’m not gonna lie, it was a tough road, especially as a female in this industry. Working my way up through rodeo to where I am today: a NFR finalist!! It’s a real pinch me moment… Little me would be ecstatic (just like present me 🙈) To all the other little girls that share the same passion & dream, it’s possible! Never stop believing in yourself ❤️ Now, let’s get that trophy!!!

View all 3,238 comments

maxverstappen1: My girl 😍 You’ve 100% got this 💪

y/n: Thank you baby 🥰 But first, Texas!

landonorris: GET INNN

Liked by y/n

lewishamilton: Legend in the making 🤍

Liked by y/n

user12: you’re gonna inspire so many girls to follow their dreams 🧡

user13: ✨role model✨

user14: soooo… idk if anyone’s seen the other finalists but she’s going to absolutely annihilate the competition just saying

user15: fr, they ain’t ready

8 October

Liked by user16, user17 and 658,512 others

f1: Howdy, y’all, it’s race week 🤠 Austin, here we come! 🇺🇸

View all 520 comments

y/n: Looking sharp sheriffs!

carlossainz55: Muchas gracias

charles_leclerc: Have to look our best this weekend, don’t we?

y/n: I wonder who for 🤔

charles_leclerc: 😉

user16: UHM FLIRTY MUCH??

user17: easy there sharl, she’s taken 💀

user18: cota the soap opera, i’m here for it

16 October

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 778,543 others

y/n: Switching my bull gear for that other bull gear 💙 COTA LET’S GOOO

View all 2,160 comments

maxverstappen1: Blue looks good on you

Liked by y/n

danielricciardo: Yeeeeehaaawwww

redbullracing: Team Bull. Always.

y/n: Hell yeah!!

user19: you can pull off literally anything 😍

user20: y/n is at cota this weekend!!!!!

user21: omfg finally some y/n & max content

user22: we’ve been STARVED

user21: exactly 🥲

user23: GIRL WAIT YOU SWITCHED TO THE CAP??

y/n: Don’t worry!! It was only for the pic 😊

user23: oh thank god

18 October

y/n's story

Seen by landonorris, alex_albon and 2,436,712 others

19 October

Liked by y/n, victoriaverstappen and 728,451 others

maxverstappen1: Austin ready 🇺🇸💪

View all 1,934 comments

y/n: There were so many cool hats to choose from but he insisted on wearing mine…😈

landonorris: Initiating the cowboy hat rule just in time before the race… Clever girl

alex_albon: Oooohh everybody watch out

schecoperez: 😂😂😂

y/n: You know it ;)

maxverstappen1: Wait what?

landonorris: Nothing, mate 🤠 You’ll find out soon enough

user24: BYEEEE AHAHAHA

user25: y/n and the whole grid ganging up on max 😭

user26: he’s so oblivious i love it

19 October

Liked by sophiekumpen, redbullracing and 654,281 others

f1: VERSTAPPEN WINS AT COTA! 🏆

View all 2,017 comments

user27: 🔥🔥🔥

user28: the goat does it again

user29: little sad that max didn’t wear the cowboy hat on the podium tho

user30: lmao y/n is probably as well

22 October

Liked by maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 768,311 others

y/n: WHAT. A. WEEKEND. 15th win of the season & 50th altogether!!!🥇Proud of you Maxie 😘😘

View all 2,108 comments

maxverstappen1: Love you 😘

user31: MAXIE??? i’m sobbing

user32: i need to know all her nicknames for him NOW

user33: and i need her to be at every one of his races

user34: same she fitted right in with the crew in the pitbox, joking around and everything :’)

user33: truly one of the few wags who are actually into the sport…

22 October

Liked by y/n, danielricciardo and 734,161 others

maxverstappen1: It’s incredible to win my 50th Grand Prix here today. I feel very proud to achieve this! Amazing job by everyone in the team 👏 And special thank you to y/n, the hat indeed brought us luck!

View all 1,998 comments

y/n: Always trust the hat, you should wear it more often

maxverstappen1: Unfortunately we cannot all break the helmet rules

y/n: 🙄

user35: lmao y/n is like you either die trying or you don’t try at all

user36: she has an aesthetic to look after 💅🏼

y/n: 🤣 You got it!

user36: OMG OMG

user37: BROOO

user38: well at least we’ve got that confirmed now

22 October

y/n's story

Seen by charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial and 2,766,192 others

23 October

y/n's story

Seen by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 2,541,384 others

23 October

Liked by user39, user40 and 31,476 others

mv1jet: Verstappen’s jet just touched ground! 🛬 Nevada, United States of America 🇺🇸

View all 508 comments

user39: oh god everyone get ready

user40: this can only mean 1 thing

user41: MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN, 3-TIME F1 WORLD CHAMPION, COMING TO SUPPORT HIS GIRL AT THE BIGGEST PBR EVENT OF THE YEAR HELLO YES I AM SAT

28 November

Liked by mv.y/nupdates, pbr and 275,021 others

wranglernfr: Today marks the start of the 65th NFR Finals! Newcomer and fan favorite y/n y/l/n has a good shot at winning the championship this week. However, will she decide to adhere to the mandatory helmet regulations or will she risk disqualification and still wear her self-proclaimed good luck hat? We’ll find out soon, folks. Stay tuned!

View all 1,454 comments

user42: i bet she keeps to her aesthetic

user43: oh def, she basically said it herself already

user44: but but but would they really disqualify her when she wins…??

user45: technically it is against the rules to ride without a helmet during the nfr’s so… yeah they might

user44: 😥😥

user46: please y/n don’t jeopardize it all 😩

2 December

maxverstappen1's story

Seen by landonorris, schecoperez and 3,014,839 others

11 December

Liked by maxverstappen1, mv.y/nupdates and 301,294 others

wranglernfr: NFR 2023 Champion y/n y/l/n⚡️Despite sticking to her famous but controversial cowboy hat, y/n becomes the 65th winner in Las Vegas at just nineteen, beating the runnerup and last year’s champion Billy Youngster!

View all 1,778 comments

user47: SHE DID IT!!!! 💪🔥

user48: i’m bursting with pride i’m so happy for her 🥰🥰🥰

mv.y/nupdates: two world champions this is almost too good to be true 😭❤️

user49: their christmas is gonna be one helluva party

user50: well deserved, that billy kid had it coming

user51: he only won last year because of dumb luck!

user52: FACTS

user53: this year we have a winner who’s worthy of the title ❤️

user54: can’t get over how y/n was so far up ahead they literally couldn’t disqualify her for the hat thing lol

user55: imagine if they had, people would have rioted

user54: omg they would have, with max at the front hoisting his pitchfork in the air, leading the pack

user55: 😂😂

11 December

Liked by maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,219,748 others

y/n: Cowboy hat + racing gloves = champions of the world 🏆

View all 4,193 comments

maxverstappen1: ❤️

sophiekumpen: So proud of both of you 🥰

victoriaverstappen: Coolest auntie (en oom natuurlijk🙊)!!!

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Congrats on making champion, champ!!! And wow… Max has got his own hat 👀

y/n: Yup! He deserved it after his triple US win 😍

charles_leclerc: Does this mean that your hat claim has lifted…?

maxverstappen1: Unless you want another inchident, back off

y/n: Uhm... He knows what it means now…

charles_leclerc: 😳

alex_albon: RIP Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc 🪦

Liked by maxverstappen1 and y/n

12 December

Liked by y/n, landonorris and 1,182,853 others

maxverstappen1: Wear the hat…

Comments have been disabled

12 December

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

a/n: translation of “en oom natuurlijk” > “and uncle ofcourse”

Happy holidays! x

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

Wayne comes home one day to Eddie behaving unusually - loudly narrating everything every time he leaves his room, playing his music quieter than usual but making abrupt loud noises when he’s in his room, checking on Wayne every ten minutes or so to make sure he’s enjoying his shows and asking if he wants tea, and generally bearing his biggest, wettest puppy dog eyes.

Now Wayne’s done this song and dance a few times, so after a few hours he gets up and makes his way to his nephew’s door, takes a moment to stop and listen-

And sure enough, he can hear the hushed whispers and giggles. Heaving a sigh, Wayne raps his knuckles against the flimsy wood. It’s immediately met with a flurry of scrambling from the other side.

To Eddie’s credit, it doesn’t even take until Wayne’s count of 10 before the door swings open, revealing his very ruffled nephew sporting a sunny grin and doing his best to look like he’s not taking up the entirety of the doorway on purpose.

“Alright, what’re you hidin’ in here this time?” Wayne asks, glancing at the bed. It’s a favourite hiding place of Eddie’s - where he’d hidden the stray cat, the raccoon, and any number of other strays he’s picked up.

“Hiding? I -uh - what are you talking about?” Eddie says it smoothly enough, but he’s eyes dart to the left briefly before he catches himself and looks back at Wayne, pulling his hair in front of his face in a display of nerves. Wayne glances over. The closet this time then.

“I ain’t born yesterday kiddo,” he says, shaking his head. “Now why don’t you quit bullshittin’ and open up that there door”

Eddie’s gaze follows his gesture to the closet, and then he turns back to Wayne, giving an indignant huff and puffing up like he’s gearing for a fight.

Wayne meets his gaze with an even one of his own and, after a moment, Eddie deflates. "Fine," he huffs and makes his way to the closet, shooting Wayne betrayed wounded-bird looks over his shoulder. Wayne just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

He's prepared for a lot of things, but what he's not expecting is for Eddie to swing the cupboard door open to reveal some fancy-looking lad, looking sheepish as all get out.

"Ed-" he says, slightly lost for words. Eddie and closet-boy exchange a glance, and Wayne feels shock go through him as he suddenly places that face. "Is that... is that the Harrington boy?"

Immediately, a guilty look crosses Eddie's face and Wayne groans. "Jesus H. Christ," he groans, putting his hand over his face.

When he looks up again, Eddie is giving him that wide-eyed pleading face of his that always comes with the strays. "Eddie, he ain't some stray you can just take in!" He protests.

Eddies face hardens just a little with that stubbornness he got from his mother. "C'mon Uncle Wayne. His parents are terrible when they even bother to be around!” he argues. "And I mean it’s probably for the best that they’re not there because they’re the worst kind of people but it's almost Christmas and he can’t just be there alone on Christmas! Did you raise me like that Wayne? Did you?"

Harrington seems to get past his surprise at Eddie’s sudden rant and he frowns, opens his mouth to protest. Eddie, apparently sensing this, claps a hand over his mouth and turns to Wayne , his righteous indignation switching right back to his best puppy-dog eyes cranked to full effect at Wayne.

And Wayne... well, he's never been able to say no to any of the strays Eddie's brought home yet.

[cinnbar-bun]

Ace x Reader General HCs

Rating: SFW + NSFW (separated)

GN Reader

You can read on my AO3 here!

SFW

A loveable goofball who is like a puppy around you. It’s adorable but also, everyone in the Whitebeard Pirates roasts the hell out of him for how whipped he is for you. 

He has many different ways of reacting to you, depending on his mood, but there are a few sides that are common. 

Puppy Dog: Full blown puppy, golden retriever energy. He’s at your every beck and call and with a dopey smile on his face as he stands beside you. So happy and eager, and nary a frown in sight as he wants to cuddle and hug you lots. 

Flustered/Shy: This happens occasionally when you act forward with him/he’s caught off guard. He will turn the prettiest shade of red and his jaw will drop as he looks at you. Often mumbles and whines while covering his mouth. His face burns brighter if you or the other members bring it up. 

Smooth Operator: Unlike the other times when he turns into a tomato or suddenly becomes a dog, this is when he decides to “play” with you a bit. Sometimes teases you and whispers sweet-nothings in your ear. At this stage, he’s at his A-game and can handle whatever you throw at him (whether it’s your cute smile or flirting). Super into PDA and doesn’t react much besides laughing if the others tease him.

But regardless of what “side” of him appears, it’s always obvious how much he loves you. Marco jokingly asks when the wedding is and Whitebeard gruffly says he will host the biggest celebration for your wedding. 

Side note: if you two do actually go through with a wedding- Whitebeard doing his best to stay composed while a singular tear drops down his cheeks as you and Ace get married. He’s the proudest papa ever. 

Ace gets pouty and annoyed often if your attention is elsewhere. It’s never obsessive or intruding, but more like a “aw, and I thought you loved me,” type of joke where he wants a kiss on the cheek to “make him feel better”. 

Loves when you wear his hat and pose with it. 

Ace, despite his free nature, really does appreciate how you take care of him and ground him. Lord knows he jumps headfirst into things without thinking, so having you there is his reminder to take his life a bit more seriously. 

Sometimes, Ace questions how he got so lucky to have you in his life. It was just by chance you two met, but every day he feels blessed knowing he’s got you. Occasionally, he wonders if you’d ever leave him for someone “better”, but then you give him that smile and all his fears melt away.

Seriously, not joking, Ace’s favorite part of you is your smile. Your smile is gorgeous. Your smile is everything. Especially when you two are sailing together, or watching the sunset, or under a starry sky, he’s entranced by you. You have his whole heart, and when he sees you smile, he’s reminded of how badly he wants to explore the world with you and protect you. You’re his reason to keep fighting and living. 

NSFW 

When it comes to sex, Ace is eager. He’s not Sanji-levels of desperate, but if you’re offering, he’s taking it at any opportunity. 

Does not mind if it’s in public, on the floor, outside, in the back of an alley- if he’s having sex with you he doesn’t care. 

Ass man. Loves ass, loves your ass. He wants to bite your ass, spank your ass, eat your ass, fuck your ass- he just loves your booty. 

Also, if you wanted to eat his ass, hey, he ain’t complaining, either. You can do him in the ass as well! 

Major switch energy. He doesn’t mind being either the top or the bottom, because sex with him honestly just always ends up becoming you two mindlessly and energetically moving against each other. 

He’s very sloppy when it comes to sex. Not exactly in a bad way, but Ace is so eager to get it on with you that he’s just so wild and crazy in bed. Will go round after round just thrusting wildly into you. He loses some of his brain cells whenever he has sex with you, and just reverts to his base desires. 

The “sides” to him from the SFW portion apply here, too. Sometimes he will happily go at it with you and make stupid jokes. Sometimes he will be a blushing, whimpering mess as you have him on all fours, other times he will be whispering in your ear how good you feel while his fingers are caressing your lower half. 

Ace truly brings the heat during sex, no part of you will be untouched or unloved when you’re with him. He’s in love with your body and every part of you.

He does like certain aspects of roleplay, but he’s not too big on it. If you wore an outfit or made him wear one, that’s probably as far as it goes alongside a few quips before he’s moaning and yelling how amazing your ass feels. 

Also not too heavily into complete domination or submission. He doesn’t do well with mixing kinks into your daily lives, so he’s not going to be one to establish or follow “rules” or demand any expectation from you that you must follow outside of the bedroom. He’s pretty go-with-the-flow so he’d rather just have sex whenever ya’ll feel like it whatever way you two want it. 

Not too into heavily degradation. He can use some basic words like “whore” or “brat”, whatever, but he doesn’t find degrading you enjoyable for him. He loves you too much to truly degrade you, and most of his dirty talk is lewd praise. He also doesn’t care for being heavily degraded back. 

Now, praise? This boy has the biggest praise kink ever. Call him a “good boy” or compliment his body and he’ll have a proud look on his face as he continues to pleasure you. Seriously, praise him- you won’t regret it!

[quizzicalwriter]

please please please do a part 3 for the older!ellie series. i can't hold out any longer, i get butterflies every time i re-read cola and haunted 😭

Burning Desire

Pairing: Older Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ellie’s made herself comfortable in your day to day life, ain’t that nice? Part three of the ‘Cola’ series. Find parts one and two here!

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Fingering, oral, semi-public sex, rough & possessive themes. Some angst, just a smidge.

A/N: I’m so happy you guys like this series! Also if this wasn’t the room scenario you envisioned feel free to send another ask and I’ll include it in the next installment!

Word Count: 4.5k

Twenty minutes, that’s all that separated you from Ellie. She’d counted, given that she made the trek to your campus on a near-daily basis. Her wife never questioned it, or if she did Ellie hadn’t been listening. All she could truly think about was you, your laugh, your smile - everything. Her obsessiveness over you might’ve warranted concern, but it never set off any warning bells in your mind, if anything Ellie’d noticed the way your thighs would clench together when she’d pull you closer to her side.

It was stupid, she knew that. She was twice your age and had a wife, but the past weeks spent between your thighs felt holy enough to cast away any built-up sins she’d worried about accruing. She’d feel sorry when she was dead, until then she’d listen to your moans of her name often enough to commit them all to memory, her sweet little hymn.

How could she stop herself? You’d practically skip whenever you caught sight of her in the campus parking lot, a wide smile on your face as you clutched your bag to your chest. She’d developed a habit of picking you up every Wednesday, the one day she was sure her wife would be gone for the better part of the day, certainly enough time to worship your body as you laid on her bed.

Just as you did every week, you bounded toward her truck, a giddy smile plastered across your face as you ran over. She leaned across the center console, opening the door for you to climb up into the beaten-up hunk of metal. You rambled about your day as you handed Ellie your bag, she tried her damndest to listen while tossing it into the backseat and starting up her truck.

“- I mean, it was crazy. You know?” You asked, and at that moment Ellie realized she hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest. She’d been paying attention to you, but not to the words coming out of your mouth. You sensed her confusion, playfully rolling your eyes as you crossed your legs beneath you. “Not listening to my rambling?”

Ellie breathed out a laugh, switching on her turn signal as she looked over to the adjacent street, her free hand squeezing your upper thigh. “I always listen.”

It was bullshit, you knew that, but it was cute nonetheless. You hummed in response, looking down at her hand as the midday sun poured in through the windows, casting a warm hue over her skin and yours. Her rings shone in the light, the cool metal rousing goosebumps along your thighs the farther up her touch went.

“Ellie.” You warned, looking at her out of your peripheral as you shifted in your seat, knowing exactly what she meant to do. She cleared her throat, giving your thigh a swat as she trailed her touch upward, sliding her fingers underneath the hem of your skirt and against your underwear with a short, “What?”

You tried to laugh, only to have the noise cut off by a whine as her fingers brushed against your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear, causing you to ache around nothing as she turned down a busy street. “We’re fifteen minutes from your place.”

Without missing a beat, Ellie smiled over at you, tone slick as she responded. “Fifteen minutes to make you cum.”

Before you could retort she’d pushed your underwear to the side, middle and ring finger circling your cunt, gathering your cum around the digits before pushing them in. You let your head fall back against the headrest, hand moving to hold onto her wrist as she slowly pumped her fingers inside of you.

You couldn’t tell whether you were thankful or pissed over the state of your hometown's roads, as Ellie seemed to drive over every bump she could find, effectively making you ride her fingers. You could hear the lewd squelch of her fingers pushing inside of you with each movement of her wrist.

Her thumb circled your clit as she turned onto another street, face completely neutral as she kept her focus on the road ahead. Anybody passing by wouldn’t have thought a thing, save for your screwed-together brows and the way you kept letting your head fall back to moan out her name in a way that had her shifting in her seat.

Even as the roads smoothed out you still bounced on her fingers, one hand grasping her wrist while the other grasped at the fabric of the seat, trying to steady yourself as your orgasm built in your lower stomach. Ellie’s eyes flickered over to you, sneaking every glance she could manage as your moans picked up an octave.

“Gonna cum?” She asked, a proud smile on her face as you nodded. As your cunt squeezed her fingers she let out a groan of her own, silently thanking God when she finally came across a red light. You’d leaned against her shoulder, thighs squeezing her forearm in place as she continued moving her fingers within you.

With a broken cry of her name, you came undone around her fingers, you’d hardly picked up the quiet praises she threw your way as she pulled into her neighborhood, keeping her fingers buried in your cunt all the while. You continued rocking your hips through your orgasm, practically a whimpering mess by the time she’d pulled into her driveway.

You’d half a mind to worry about whether or not your parents were home, it’d be beyond difficult to explain why your older, married neighbor drove you to and fro - especially given that you lived on campus. But as Ellie moved her fingers inside of you, purely by accident, as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, those worries fled your mind in favor of whatever else Ellie would give you before she’d have to drive you back to campus.

“Open.” She murmured, pulling her fingers out of your cunt before pressing them to your lips, watching in awe as you greedily took them into your mouth. The feeling of your tongue against her fingers could’ve made her cum alone, but the look in your eyes as she pushed her fingers further into your mouth made it damn near impossible for her to breathe.

“Fuck.” Was all she managed to breathe out as she removed her fingers from your mouth, eyes glued to yours as she watched you swallow your cum. She wasted no time in leaning forward to connect your lips, wanting to taste you on your tongue before she’d even brought you inside.

The sweet and earthy taste coated her tongue, making her desperate enough that she’d briefly considered laying you back against the backseat of her truck to eat you out in plain daylight. She’d only had the strength to deny herself when you pulled away to catch your breath, eyes bleary with want as you wetted your lips, tasting whatever remained of her on your lips.

“So fuckin’ filthy.” She laughed out, taking a moment to fill her lungs full of air before leaning over the center console to open your door, doing the same for hers a second later. You responded with a pleased hum, hopping out of the truck before adjusting your skirt. Your eyes roamed over to your parent's house, noticing that only your mom was home - hopefully, she was sleeping and wasn’t out on the porch.

Either way, you decided not to risk it, quickly maneuvering around the front of Ellie’s truck to follow her inside. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest as Ellie tried to readjust her jeans, surely having soaked through her boxers in the process of watching you ride her fingers. As odd as it was, you felt more comfortable in Ellie’s home than you had anywhere else, despite the photos of her wife that lingered amongst the walls.

Maybe it was Ellie’s presence, her scent that coated the blankets and jackets hung up near the door, or possibly a combination of the two along with the memories of her fucking you on nearly every surface in the house. You kicked your shoes off near the front door, the two of you talking about something insignificant as you both moved to the living room.

Her arm circled your waist as you both plopped down onto the couch, her thumb rubbing soft circles into your hip bone as you both continued talking. Ellie found herself in the same daze she’d been in earlier, utterly entranced by the way you stared up at her and smiled whenever you’d mention something funny.

“Ellie-“ You whined, palming at her chest as you feigned a frown, having caught her not paying attention for the second time. She chuckled, free hand grasping yours before bringing it to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on your fingers with a murmured, “Sorry, baby. What were you saying?”

You bit back a smile, not wanting to let up on the upset charade you had going. So you tilted your head back, playing the role of an exasperated housewife as your eyes fluttered shut. “I was talking about something so important.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?” She responded in a low chuckle, moving her arm from your back to drape it over your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looked down at you, enjoying the pity party you were throwing for yourself.

“Was telling you how I’ve never really dated anyone, I’m like a baby when it comes to that stuff. My friends have tried-“ Before you could finish your tirade Ellie covered your mouth, a mix of confusion and excitement heavy on her face as she responded with a giddy, “You haven’t dated anyone? Ever? You’re a college student, babe. The fuck are you doin’ all day?”

With a groaned-out laugh, you pushed her hand down from your mouth, tilting your head back against the plush backrest of the couch. “For your information-“ You started, words lifted with laughter. “I happen to study and go to class!”

“So innocent, huh?” She teased, something rather lascivious hidden in her tone as she brushed the back of her fingers against the swell of your cheek. “Never dated anyone, so precious.”

You huffed out a laugh, unable to hide the growing flush against your cheeks the longer she gazed down at you. “Not all innocent-“ You mumbled, eyes flickering down to your lap where your thighs shifted. “I’ve had sex before you, just didn’t date is all.”

Ellie hummed, you couldn’t tell whether the tone was one of disapproval or intrigue as she continued to stroke the side of your face, thumb drifting along the curvature of your bottom lip. She then pressed her thumb to your lips, looking down at you expectantly. You parted your lips, taking her thumb into your mouth before gently sucking it. The feeling of your tongue curling around the pad of her thumb caused her breath to catch in her chest, arousal settling heavily in her lower stomach the longer you kept her gaze.

“So good with your tongue.” She whispered, having difficulty keeping her eyes on yours in favor of watching your cheeks hollow around her thumb. “Wonder how good it’d feel on me.”

A hot rush pulsed through your body, thrumming steadily in your cunt at her words. The thought of being between her legs, her fingers tangled in your hair as she used your tongue to get herself off, you couldn’t help the whine against her digit as you grew desperate to taste her.

“You’d like that, huh?” She laughed out, eyebrows raising slightly at the genuine intrigue in your eyes. “Alright, get on your knees.”

You pulled off of her thumb, giving the tip of her finger a gentle kiss before sinking to your knees before her. Her hands moved slowly, almost teasing you as she unbuttoned her jeans, tilting her head to the side as she lifted her hips to kick the denim off, all the while your eyes stayed locked on her bottom half.

Impatience swelled in your mind as you bit at the inside of your cheek, squirming on your knees in hope of easing the ache between your legs. Sensing your restlessness she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her boxers, slipping them down and off her legs before scooting herself closer to the edge of the seat. You could see the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took, her appearance flushed as her fingers tapped against the fabric of the couch.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?”

You shook your head, wetting your lips as you scooted yourself closer to the edge of the couch, knees bumping into the furniture. She smiled down at you, a huff of air leaving her as she parted her thighs, hand smoothing up your neck to thread her fingers through the back of your hair.

“Then let me use that pretty tongue.”

You were so obedient with the way you rested your hands against her splayed thighs, eyes locked on hers, those pretty doe-eyes that she could melt in for the rest of her life if God would be so kind. She drank in that look, that lingering innocence in your face as you licked a tentative stripe up her cunt. She let out a hiss of breath, eyelids fluttering as her hold on your hair tightened.

You only knew what she’d done to you so many times before, so you did your damndest to mimic it, swirling your tongue around her clit before swiping your tongue between her folds, all but drinking her cum as it coated your tongue. A drawn-out moan fell from her lips, pulling one from you as well as her hips rocked, pushing her cunt further against your tongue.

Her taste was divine, her moans of your name even more so. You could feel your clit throb, juices soaking your underwear the longer you stayed between her thighs. With a grunt she pulled you closer, effectively riding your face, and you were all too happy to let her. Your right hand slunk between your thighs, pushing your skirt up and to the side along with your underwear, your fingers finding home against your cunt less than a second later.

A languid moan fell past your lips as you slipped your middle and ring finger into your cunt, mimicking Ellie’s pace as she rutted against your face, her head rolled back against the backrest of the couch. Cum pooled around your fingers, dripping into your palm as you thrusted your fingers into yourself, rocking your hips against your palm, giving yourself enough friction against your clit to leave you moaning against her cunt.

“Gonna make me cum, baby.” She drawled out, words breathless as her hips twitched against you. You hummed, feeling your orgasm coil tight in your lower stomach. She practically used your tongue to get herself off, and all it did was spur your orgasm forward until you were cumming around your fingers, a wanton moan falling past your lips as you sucked her clit into your mouth. Her grip on your hair tightened to an almost painful degree as her orgasm swept through her, her back arching from the couch as she moaned your name.

You continued your movements, fingers still pumping idly in your still twitching cunt as she rode out her orgasm against your eager tongue. She sagged against the couch as she caught her breath, her hand falling from your hair to cup your jaw, thumb brushing affectionately against your skin. You wetted your lips, wanting to taste all of her as you leaned into her touch.

“Did so good, you know that?” She whispered, a soft grunt leaving her lips as she shifted her hips back against the couch, patting the cushion beside her, wanting to feel you curled into her side. You quickly obliged, moving to sit down beside her as she circled an arm around your back, hand brushing along your upper arm as she rested her cheek against the top of your head.

The taste of her lingered on your tongue, forever engrained in your memory. It would surely flood your mind when you found yourself without her, secluded in your dormitory with nothing else to occupy your time than to rut into your palm in hope of recreating her perfect touch.

You were snatched from the depths of your daydreams by Ellie pushing her shoulder against you, her laughter filling your ears as she bent forward and grabbed her clothes from the floor.

“C’mon, daydreamer. Gotta get you back to your dorm.”

The drive back to your dormitory was always the same, filled with never-ending silence and looks from Ellie that spoke magnitudes without ever uttering a thing. You weren’t sure if you preferred the silence over Ellie trying to explain her situation, the whole “I’m married” tirade lasted a whopping three days before you’d grown tired of it and asked her to stop.

Instead, you got silence, silence, and a gentle grasp of your upper thigh as she maneuvered through the streets. She’d take longer drives back, insisting on wanting to avoid traffic but you both knew it stemmed from neither of you wanting to say goodbye. As you passed by houses filled with families and lovers you found your gaze shifting over to her, watching as she kept her eyes ahead.

Ellie hated it, hated the predicament she’d thrown you into, and hated herself for not being able to turn you away. She should’ve been happy with her wife, but she wasn’t, they hadn’t been for a long time. Ellie’d confided in you about the woes of her marriage roughly a week into your ‘situationship’ or whatever the hell things like that were called. You’d been understanding, something she hadn’t been expecting if she were to be honest. But you were, and it made the whole ordeal that much difficult to distance herself from.

She’d been driving autonomously, mind somewhere else entirely when you’d swatted at her forearm that still rested against the center console with a laugh. With a sigh she unbuckled her seatbelt, waiting for you to do the same before joining you on the short trek back to your dorm room. Nobody ever stared, everyone on campus was dealing with their shit and didn’t care enough to eavesdrop - something Ellie appreciated deeply.

As you both stepped into the rickety elevator, she felt the back of your fingers brush against hers, wordlessly seeking her touch as you readied yourselves to part for another week. She didn’t return it, instead keeping her eyes locked on the dinging numbers above the elevator doors, mouthing along the number to each passing floor until the doors sprung open. You stepped out first, avoiding her gaze as you fished your keys from your back pocket, muttering something about your roommate under your breath that Ellie didn’t quite pick up.

When the doors opened to reveal your dorm room empty, Ellie couldn’t stop the flutter of hope that sparked in her chest. She followed you into the room, kicking her shoes off near the door just as you had, her eyes watching as you moved over to your bed, plopping yourself down onto the thin mattress like a marionette without strings.

“What is it?” She asked, moving over to you, right hand lifting to gently rub along your back. You immediately jerked away from her touch, something that turned her stomach sour as you turned over to face her with your own look of distaste.

“What am I to you?” You asked, words punctuated with a venom Ellie had never anticipated coming from you. She took a moment, taking in a deep breath as she moved to sit down beside you on your bed, trying to ignore the way you shuffled away from her.

“You’re my girl.” She responded, giving you a half-hearted smile. She’d hoped you’d never ask that question, but she knew it’d happen sooner rather than later. “That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is?” You laughed out, shaking your head in disbelief as you shifted on your mattress to face her fully. “You fuck me every week, sometimes more if you can sneak away from your wife. You expect me to be happy with just being ‘your’ girl?”

She looked away from you then, knowing she didn’t have an answer in her mind that would appease you at that moment. What the hell was she supposed to say? That she’d divorce her wife whom she’d known all her life? It was complicated. As she rambled within her mind she realized she hadn’t said anything, causing your agitation to rise as the seconds passed.

“I-“ She started, taking a moment to clear her throat as she looked down to her clasped hands. “I’m married, baby. What did you expect? I’ve known my wife my entire life, I can’t just- I can’t up and divorce her. I need time.”

You’d half startled her when you grabbed her arm, pulling her attention from her tensed hands to your desperate eyes. She returned your look with vigor, feeling a pull within her chest to protect you, love you, even though she caused all of these feelings for you in the first place. How was she meant to protect you from herself when she couldn’t breathe without you beside her?

“What do you feel for me, Ellie?” You asked, words so quiet that she’d hardly heard them over the sound of her heartbeat. She smiled at your question, your naivety of her feelings for you. With a caress of your cheek, she whispered, “Everything.”

It was the truth, she felt too much for you. It scared her, the lengths she’d go to for you. She wasn’t the healthiest when it came to love, she obsessed, became possessive. She felt it flare whenever she’d spot someone talking to you on campus whenever she’d swing by, whether it was her day to pick you up or not. You’d noticed her, and for some reason, it’d only made you cling to her more.

You ceased the gap between you, crashing your lips together in a kiss so fueled with desperation that it sucked the air from your lungs, leaving you aching for everything that encompassed Ellie’s being. You only pulled away when your chest burned for air, words hoarse as you responded, “Then act like it.”

She moved then, hands grasping at your skirt as she pushed you backward into the mattress, her lips trailing down your jaw and onto your throat where she nipped and sucked your skin, leaving her mark. You let her, whines of her name falling past your lips as your hands slipped underneath the fabric of her shirt. You could feel the muscle moving beneath her skin as she sunk closer to you, her fingertips pressing into your hips with enough force to leave behind bruises.

You could feel her teeth against your collarbones as her hands slipped underneath the hem of your skirt, all but tearing the fabric from your body to get you nude in the least amount of time. You lifted your hips, hands moving to help her before you kicked the bundled-up fabric to the floor along with your underwear. Her hand slipped between your thighs, a groan reverberating within her chest as her fingers dragged along your folds.

“Mine.” She whispered, following the word with a kiss to your throat as she slipped her middle and ring finger into your cunt, the sudden movement pulling a gasped-out moan from you as your thighs squeezed around her wrist. She intertwined her legs with yours, pulling your leg to the side with her calf as she rocked her fingers into your cunt.

“Yours.” You breathed out, back arching from the mattress as your hips rocked in tandem with her fingers. She hummed at your response, pride swelling in her chest as she trailed her lips back up the curvature of your throat to your lips, swallowing every bliss-filled moan that left your chest.

She could feel your cunt fluttering around her fingers as she brushed her palm against your clit, each twitch of your cunt and moan from your lips spurring her on further. She slipped a hand between her legs, situating herself to have your thigh pressed against her. You’d been too caught up in the feeling of her fingers pumping within you to register the shift until she rocked her hips down against your thigh, a grunt of your name leaving her at the desperately needed friction.

Her fingers moved in sync with her hips, only pulling away from your kiss to fill her lungs. She could’ve died happy then, feeling your hips rutting up to meet her fingers as she used your thigh to get herself off. It was messy, needy, but it was you and that’s all she could bring herself to care about.

You could feel your orgasm building to a fever pitch in your lower stomach, cunt tightening down around her digits as your moans turned into keens, near pitiful drawls of her name as she chased her own against your thigh. She knew your body well enough to know you were close, the way your eyebrows furrowed and how your legs would tense, it all sent her careening over the edge into her orgasm.

All she managed was a weak, “Fuck,” as her hips stuttered against your thigh, never once losing pace with her fingers as she centered her focus onto you. Your eyes fluttered open, met with her intense gaze as she fingered you. You raised your hand, cupping the back of her neck as your lips parted, a drawn-out whine of her name leaving you as she brought you to your third orgasm of the day. Even as your eyes shut at the intensity of the feeling, Ellie kept her gaze focused on you, watching as your face screwed up in pleasure - all because of her.

“Els-“ You whimpered, tone pleading as your hands jerked between your thighs, pushing away her hand as your pleasure quickly turned into oversensitivity. She moved her hand, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips as you caught your breath. There was a shared comfortable silence, one where she held you close and peppered featherlight kisses to your semi-damp forehead.

Only when you were in her arms did you realize how much you didn’t want to give her up, maybe you were a fool, but you’d be a blissful one until she changed it - you surely wouldn’t change the situation if left to your own devices. You tilted your head back, narrowly missing a kiss to the nose which pulled soft laughter from the both of you as you situated yourself to see her face better.

“Your girl?” You asked.

“My girl.” She replied.

A/N: It’s finally here!! I actually have some plans for another installment or two of this, so let me know if you guys want more chapters and I will deliver! Thank you so so much for all the love and support you’ve shown my work, I appreciate it more than words can express! You can always find my work over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again, I hope you guys like this one!

Taglist: @p4ison1vy @machetegirl109 @h0lyr1chex @harrysslutsstuff @bellaramslover

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for future installments!)

[macfrog]

state-of-the-art sex on fire chapter two

*chants* ceo joel ceo joel ceo joel

part 2 to you shook me all night long!!! massive credit to @whore-4-pedro again for the concept this is SO much fun. work trip coming soon babies!!! masterlist here, ao3 here 💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel’s had a rough week at work. you figure you know the perfect way to relieve some of his tension

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) more teasing and touching, oral (m receiving), getting handsy in public + fingering, unprotected semi-public piv sex, creampie, daddy kink, softdom!joel, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship

word count: 6.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body. You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer. You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

The black mug. Not the one with the gold handle – that’s one of Martha’s. She doesn’t use it much – at least not as much as the one with her granddaughter’s face printed on it – but she once left you with a stack of paperwork to shred all by yourself just ‘cause you made yourself a tea in it.

No. Just plain black all over. No words, no pictures. Plain. Black.

Few spoonsful of coffee into the filter, hard granules sprinkling over the white paper. Close the lid, flick the switch, and then wait for it to brew. Once it’s done, fill the mug almost to the top – until the coffee kisses the bottom of that one chip in the ceramic. No sugar. No sweetener. No nothing.

Just plain black.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joel takes the mug carefully from your hands as you wander over, then you perch yourself by his side on Martha’s desk. He takes a sip and nods like usual, confirming what you already know.

You make a damn good cup of coffee.

“You’re worth, what, a few hundred million? You can’t buy a better coffee machine?”

“’s wrong with that one?” he asks, mug on his bottom lip.

“Works like it’s from the eighties or something.”

Martha clears her throat behind you both. “I am gonna give you five seconds to explain what you mean by that.”

“I mean…it’s not exactly state-of-the-art, is it?”

Joel’s jaw drops dramatically. His head wobbles like it’s about to implode, hearing what you just said. “You hear that, Martha? We ain’t state-of-the-art anymore, you ‘n me. We’re older ‘n that coffee machine, you know.”

Martha’s shaking her head, clicking away at her computer.

Joel nudges your arm with a soft chuckle and you sigh, turning away to watch the four men in his office; stood an awkward distance apart, small talking, pacing, adjusting their suits. One of them is messing with some trinket on Joel’s bookshelf.

“You think they’re nervous?” you ask, and he laughs from behind you.

“I reckon they’ve a lot to be nervous about.”

“Was it that bad? On Monday?”

Joel had spent the better part of four hours locked in that conference room, right after you two – you know. He was late for lunch by the time he was ushering them out, collars loose, jackets slung over arms. It was probably a good thing you’d tired him out a little beforehand, or he’d have been way more unforgiving than he was.

Three departments in Joel’s company have gone over budget. It isn’t a huge deal. He has the money. Just, he wants the right people in charge of it, and right now…he clearly doesn’t have that. Honestly, you hate to admit it, but it makes sense. You’re kinda on Joel’s side.

He’d given them to the end of the week to come up with action plans, figure out how to undo the mess. This is the end of the week. This is supposed to be the big reveal.

Joel runs a hand through his hair, palm hooking around the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t great,” he mutters.

You knew that much. You’d asked what he wanted to eat as he passed your desk en route back to his office, and he’d waved his hand and told you to order whatever you wanted with his card. When his door closed, you glanced over to Martha, who shrugged, and went back to playing solitaire.

You figured he wasn’t down for more sex. He didn’t reappear until five o’clock, when he walked you down to the street, carrying your jacket for you, and helped you into your cab.

The elevator dings and the brass doors separate, revealing a figure behind.

George Mackley. Short. Stout. Obnoxiously bright red tie. Head of marketing.

He waddles in a hurry toward the three of you, nodding curtly to Joel as he passes. His shaking hand fumbles around the handle of the office door, which he pulls on instead of pushing, and gives an awkward chuckle before rushing inside.

“Fuckin’…finally,” Joel grunts, passing you his mug and standing up.

“Should I order my own lunch again?” you ask, looking up at the man stretching his arms out before you. Like he’s about to go in and punch sense into them all.

You’d probably love him to do that. It’d make for some great sex afterward.

“I’ll be takin’ a lunch break,” he replies, tapping your knee, “whether we’re done or not. Be out at one.”

You nod, and he stalks off to his office. His mug’s still warm in your lap. You’re still staring when he enters the room, watching how all five men immediately file into the couches across from his desk just at the sight of him. Watching how Joel’s lean figure sits back against his desk, his ankles crossed. His arms folded at his chest. His broad shoulders beneath that tight white shirt.

He has that way about him. Commanding, confident. Strong. It’s probably what convinced you to fold, if you’re honest. Sure, he’s kind, and he’s a good boss, all things considered. He’s funny. But he’s cool. It takes a lot to shake Joel.

This meeting? It’s not shaking him. He’s barely even giving these guys enough attention to sit up straight. He’s so damn breezy, so laidback that when he pushes off of his desk and stands up, you give a small gasp.

You lift his mug, drinking from the same spot his lips touched only minutes ago.

“Thought you hated black coffee,” Martha murmurs.

“Stress sipping,” you reply. “Fucking hell…”

Joel’s erratic. Waving his arms, pacing around the room. You swear the men cower as he approaches; shoulders hunched and heads low until he’s past them.

He looks…Yeah. Fuck it. He looks a little shaken.

Martha tuts. “Shouldn’t be idiots with his money.”

“He has money, though,” you offer. “Like, this ain’t that big a deal, is it? He can afford to go over budget sometimes.”

“Joel doesn’t like anyone messin’ with what’s his,” she tells you. “Doesn’t like other hands on his toys. It’s not the overspending he’s pissed about. It’s the crossin’ the line.”

Your eyebrow cocks. She can’t see your expression, and good thing, because it’d probably give you away. Doesn’t like other hands on his toys.

A flash of movement from Joel’s office drags your eyes from the dregs of his coffee back to the transparent wall between you. He’s whipping the shades closed one by one, putting a barrier between his office and the outside world.

It can’t mean anything good, right? It doesn’t look like they’re about to sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair. Sure as hell aren’t about to see Joel’s good side.

“I gotta go in,” you declare, lifting off of Martha’s desk like you’ve taken flight.

She calls your name, almost tired of your antics. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you’re already scooping up a notepad, slipping it under your arm and fishing a pen from your desk. Already walking over to the office door, hearing the dangerous hum of Joel’s voice through the wood.

Your knuckles rap three times. You don’t wait to be called inside. Just push the handle down and slip in.

He’s stood against the frame of one of the windows, hands in his pockets. When you materialize from behind the door, his face relaxes. Brows loosen, jaw slackens. Lips almost tug into a smile.

“Sorry I’m late.” You sidle over to his desk and sit down in his chair, biting on your bottom lip, casting an unsure glance around the room.

Five pale faces turned to you. George Mackley looks like he’s about to weep.

Joel thanks you and then steps forward. “So, Ken, we were at last month’s sales.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ken draws his gaze from you when Joel moves in front of the desk. As he waltzes by, he spins slowly, giving you a look as he passes.

Kill me, he mouths, rolling his eyes. You smile, looking down at your blank notebook. You’re not here to take the fucking minutes. You know that, Joel knows that. You’re only here so he has something to keep him from losing it. Something to sit and look pretty, and calm him down.

Also: you kinda want the gossip. What the fuck did these guys do with all of Joel’s money, right?

Almost two hours in, a dozen games of tic-tac-toe against yourself, and one very crude drawing of Monday morning’s activities, Joel startles you by slamming a file down onto his glass coffee table.

“And you think that’s a solution?” he spits, voice laced with fury.

“Joel, you gotta see it from my side. I’m managing thirty people down there, it’s–”

“’n I’m managing five idiots from up here. Mackley,” he turns to the face as red as the tie below it, “you got anythin’ else for me?”

George Mackley shakes his head. His hair’s unkempt; it was gelled flat to his head when he arrived, but his hands have been through it more times than Joel’s lapped the office.

“Alright. Y’know what,” Joel seethes, backing up and motioning for them to stand, “everyone out. Meeting’s over. Go.”

“Joel–” A tall man with blue eyes stands up.

“If you ain’t about to offer me somethin’ that can fuckin’ fix this mess, then shut your mouth and get out of my office. All of you.”

The men sheepishly collect their briefcases, their documents, themselves, and stand, filing out of the door one by one. You rise from Joel’s chair, taking your notepad between your fingers, and slowly wander around the desk.

He’s standing with his head in his hands, shoulders swelling with his breathing. Does he want you to leave, too? You don’t want to rile him more; certainly don’t want to be the first face his angry self sees. But you want to make sure he’s okay. Want to check on him.

Plus, he’s kind of hot when he’s pissed.

You’re tottering toward the door when Joel drops his hands from his face, notices you, and says, plain as the coffee in his mug, “Not you.”

You turn back, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Didn’t mean to yell.”

You don’t reply. Your hand lifts to find the lock blindly behind your hip, and you click it. Now there’s nobody, no one to disturb you both. No one to walk in, no one to see.

You approach him.

He’s still talking: “Didn’t want you to have to hear all that. I spoil your morning?”

Your head shakes and you mutely take his hands, leading him around to his chair and pushing him back into it.

“Baby, what–”

You part his legs with your own, his fingers still interlocked with yours. Then you think he gets it. Understands where you’re going.

You sink to your knees between his thighs.

“They were bein’ idiots,” you say, fingers undoing his belt. “’n you didn’t spoil my mornin’. You gave me a little bit of excitement.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he watches you tug his belt through the loops of his pants and drop it to the floor. Still, he laughs, and asks, “Is that so?”

“N– Oh, fuck. Not like that. Like–” You pause, breathing out a sigh.

Yeah, okay. Like that, if you want. I’m down if you are.

His pants are open, lying loose on his hips. The waistband of his boxers visible. You hook two fingers over it and peel it down a fraction, following Joel’s happy trail as it grows thicker and darker, when he puts a hand over yours and breathes your name.

“Relax,” you mutter back, nudging his hand off of yours. “Just let me take care of you.”

His head falls against the back of his chair and his shoulders sink into the leather. You pull on the elastic and take hold of the base of his cock, already stiff, slipping it out from beneath the black cotton.

Joel’s knees fall slack when you take a hold of him. Two hands, because he’s so fucking big. Your fists pump him a few times, feeling him harden in your grasp, warm skin rock solid in your hands. You lean forward on your knees, thick bead of saliva falling from your lips onto his head, dribbling down his smooth shaft.

Joel’s watching through hooded lids. Caressing your hair, petting you. Your fingers collect your spit and drag it up and down him, and you swear he almost fucking whines.

Almost isn’t enough. You want to really hear him. So you slacken your jaw, part your lips, and slide them down, tongue flat against the underside of his length as he fills your mouth. Joel’s fist tightens, pulls harshly on your hair for just a second, until he’s breathing out again in relief, body relaxing to the feel of your wet tongue around his hard cock.

“Don’t need to – do this, babygirl.”

“Mhm,” you mumble around him.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

Your elbows are hooked over his thighs, holding yourself up in place between his legs. He tastes salty; skin warm, smooth. Your tongue flickers over his head, collecting precum, and Joel groans.

You pull off of him and lick your lips.

“What you gonna do?” you ask, fingers squeezing and dragging saliva and Joel’s arousal up and down. “About the budget stuff?”

His chest is heaving, hips lifting out of the seat almost like he’s trying to put himself back where he belongs. “What…can I do?” he asks through desperate pants. “Can’t – fuck – can’t drum sense into ‘em.”

You wrap your puffy lips around his tip, kissing it, tongue playing with him again. Swirling around, gathering him on your tastebuds. “Why don’t you cut ‘em loose, then?”

Your head dips again, lips sucking around his shaft, tongue still darting around his swollen head.

He can barely fucking answer. His eyes close over and, with a groan either side of the sentence, he replies, “’s not that easy, baby. Fuck. Keep doin’ that.”

You loosen your lips enough to let your reply pass them. Your voice is muffled, thick. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Keep fuckin’ – usin’ your tongue.”

You obey, running your tongue up and down his length and coming to rest to pay more attention to his tip.

“Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

You hollow your cheeks and let your lips trickle up and down for a bit before releasing him with a pop. Joel’s writhing underneath you, leaning almost horizontal in his chair.

“Gonna cum, daddy?”

He nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Yeah, pretty girl. You want it down your throat again?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck – dirty girl.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. You widen your jaw, taking him in your mouth in full, until he’s choking you down to what feels like the bottom of your fucking neck. You fuck him with your throat, bobbing up and down, his fist in your hair pushing and pulling even though you don’t need him to. Your mouth meets the skin at the base of his cock over and over, dark hair brushing against your glossy lips.

Joel’s moaning each time, when his cock kisses the back of your throat, when you involuntarily choke around him, when your tongue drags along his length as he pulls you up and down. And soon his breathing loses rhythm, hips tense, and you know he’s there.

He cums, hard, at the back of your mouth. Warm release spilling out over your tongue, neatly running down your throat as you wait for him to still. His cock throbs with each shot of cum, swelling and jerking between your lips. When Joel sinks back into his chair again, you slip him out of your mouth and back under his boxershorts.

Your head lulls to the side, resting on his big thigh as you swallow him with a smile on your lips. His grip on your hair loosens, turns instead back to soft stroking, chest still panting as he comes back down. You watch him through glazed eyes; his shoulders rising and falling, breaths passing his lips like waves at the beach.

He’s twirling your hair gently around his finger, looking down at you like you’re made of twinkling gold dust.

Eventually, Joel takes a deep breath and sits up straight, beckoning you to do the same. He tucks his shirt back in, redoes his pants, then leans forward and hooks both hands under your arms, pulling you up to him.

You giggle as he lifts you onto his lap, straddling him with your knees either side of his waist. Your elbows rest on his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

His jaw turns upward, and you lower yours, your lips meeting in a soft embrace. You laugh against him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, pushing yours into his.

“Better?” you ask once you part.

“Better, darlin’. Thank you.”

He kisses you again, a little more rushed, little less tender. Then his hands squeeze your ass and you squeal into his mouth, jumping up off of him.

You pass him his belt and lift the empty coffee mug off of his desk. “Refill?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” he says, slipping the leather through his belt loops. His shoulders are lifted, tummy sucked in as he feeds it through. He almost looks cute.

You smile and then turn on your heels, wiping the corners of your mouth as you emerge from the office.

—————

“Is he comin’, or what?”

“Huh?”

Martha jerks her head in the direction of Joel’s office. She’s stood at your desk, hands on her hips, bag over her shoulder.

“He’s…Yeah, he said he would be. Let me go check.”

You close over the budget report file you’d been reading through and shimmy out from behind your desk, trying to amble as casually as possible over to the shuttered blinds.

You turn the handle, poking your head around the door.

He’s stood at his desk, raking a hand through his hair, top button of his shirt undone. Tie sitting loose around his collar. He spots you and gives an apologetic smile.

You comin’? you mouth.

Joel points to his phone. Some panicked voice fills the silence between you both.

“…so I gave the two of ‘em a tellin’; they shouldn’t make any more purchase orders without my permission. Without your permission, Joel, I mean…And about last month’s sales, too…”

You step over to his desk, slow, suspicious. Mischief on your mind.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You cock your head, brows furrowing. You’d been looking forward to lunch with Joel all day; something to take his mind off the meeting this morning.

Martha had called his favorite restaurant, they’d told her they had no space, she’d mentioned it was for Mr. Miller, and a table had magically opened up. Then you’d encouraged her to ask Deb, knowing she’d inevitably ask James, her admin assistant, and, before you knew it, your small lunch was a party of five.

Worked for you. You and Joel would probably be too caught up in each other’s company to notice the rest.

Except, the way things are looking, Joel isn’t getting off this call anytime soon. Soon meaning within the next thirty seconds, given the reservation is in ten minutes.

You’re growing desperate. Running out of time, knowing if you don’t do something to shut this guy the fuck up, your little daydream of sitting side by side with Joel, so close you can feel the heat off of him, feel his chest vibrate when he talks, maybe even feel his hand trailing up your thigh…won’t come true.

“What if you just…” Your fingers walk along Joel’s desktop, heading for his phone. “…lost…connection…?”

He doesn’t say a word, but the smirk that forms across his lips grants you all the permission you need. Your fingers clutch the receiver, lifting it barely an inch, then drop it back into its cradle. The panicked voice cuts.

“Oops.” You shrug, straightening up in front of Joel.

“Oops,” he repeats, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You lift your jaw to kiss him only quickly, before you’re pushing yourself off of his chest and dragging him away from his desk.

“Sorry, Ken!” you call as Joel yanks the door open, the pair of you laughing like schoolkids.

You meet the others outside the building, huddled together at the bottom of the concrete steps. Deb puts her cigarette out on top of a trashcan when you both approach.

“Well, we thought you weren’t comin’,” she utters to Joel.

He lifts his eyebrows in response, hands slipping into his pockets, and glances around the group. “We goin’?”

“Waiting for your driver, Mr. CEO.” Martha winks.

“Aha,” Joel replies, face unmoving, “funny.”

“It’s, like, two blocks, we can walk,” you say, setting off down the street. Joel’s quick to follow, strolling at your side, but there’s a chorus of groans from the rest of your party. “Come on!” you yell over your shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be dining with the head of the fuckin’ company!” Martha cries, and Deb cackles.

“I gotta live like the rest of y’all sometimes,” Joel shrugs, walking backward, “keeps my feet rooted, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” you mutter, and he knocks into your shoulder with his own.

The Courtyard is bright, modern, and…beige. It’s only Joel’s favorite because it was a buddy of his from grad school who opened it, but you’re the only person he’s entrusted with that information. It’s decent food – they do a great chicken risotto – and it is always busy, so Drew must be doing alright with it.

You walk under a fake ivy plant covering the entrance, past twinkling fairy lights and to a rustic wooden reception area. Some hyper server comes bounding over and introduces himself as Jake, before Martha gives the name of the reservation and he batters it into a keyboard.

“Lopez?” you ask Martha, screwing your face up.

“Yeah. Comma Jennifer. I like to make it exciting.”

“If you wanted exciting, go for Beyoncé, or something. Lopez?”

“You really think Beyoncé is gonna come eat here?”

“You really think Jennifer Lopez is?”

She bats you away, turning her attention to Deb, who finds the JLo joke hilarious. When Jake springs off, beckoning you all to follow him, Joel leans in close to you.

“She used to use Pamela Anderson. Glad she’s evolved a little.”

You snort and follow Jake toward the same table Joel always sits at: the very back of the restaurant, quieter, separated by screens of more fake greenery. Windows looking out over the busy streets. Bare lightbulbs hanging from unnecessarily long wires over the tables.

Joel pulls your chair out for you and slots in beside you, on your right. Martha, Deb, and James – who hasn’t said or done much more than chortle at anything Joel’s said – sit opposite. Jake borderline frisbees the menus at you guys and tells you to give him a shout when you’re ready to order.

You turn to Joel who shakes his head, hand cupping his chin.

The five of you scan down the menus – at least, you, Joel and Martha pretend to. You’ve been coming here regularly enough for long enough that you know what you’ll inevitably end up ordering. James is asking Deb if the steak might fill him up too much before his squash practice later on tonight when you feel a familiar heat on your leg, and look past your menu to see Joel’s hand curving around your thigh.

You hold back a smile, pretending to be really into the laminated sheet in your hands. So long as he keeps it PG, and James keeps rabbiting on about squash being good for your hand-eye co-ordination, this is fine. This is…enjoyable.

This is exactly what you fucking wanted, when you organized lunch.

But when Jake returns to collect the menus under his arm then scurries back off, and Martha and Deb start discussing some TV show they’re both hooked on, Joel’s hand begins to rake higher. Taking the hem of your skirt with it. You suck in a deep breath, pretending to watch the two women and trying your best to listen to the words they’re saying, but he’s getting dangerously close to your–

“You ever try squash, Joel?”

“Huh?” Joel’s hand halts instantly. You exhale.

James is sitting forward, elbows on the table, nodding with a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Squash. Yeah. I play every Friday evening, straight after work. It’s fantastic for shakin’ off that week-long stress, y’know? Not that workin’ here is a stress, but sometimes it can build up, sometimes you just need something to…” He balls his fists and jerks them, gritting his teeth.

You choke on a laugh and play it off as a cough.

Joel shifts a little in his seat, his palm still clamped around the top of your thigh. “Never played squash. More of a golfing guy.”

“That what you’re gonna do this weekend? Burn off all that stress you’ve had with a round of golf?” you ask Joel, lips almost trembling with the effort it’s taking you not to burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind, naw,” he almost spits back.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, you know who to call. Squash, I mean. I mean – sorry, I don’t mean call squash. I mean call me. To try squash. You won’t find a better stress reliever.”

“Thanks, James,” Joel mutters, fingers fumbling with the cutlery on the table in front of him.

You could fucking burst. No better stress reliever than squash, right Joel? Nothing like it. Not even the one sitting next to you, her thigh under your grasp. Nope.

You’re thankful when Martha calls your name and averts your attention.

“You have got to watch it. I reckon she’d really love it, right?”

Deb nods eagerly.

“What’s that?” you ask.

They both start chirping away, describing the plot of some mystery thriller. It’s hard to keep up, what with them both speaking over one another, deciding which parts are safe to tell you and No, we can’t tell her that, that’s a spoiler, which actors are in it and how many episodes it took for them to really get into it.

Not to mention Joel’s hand, which has resumed its climb up your leg.

“There are three seasons,” Martha says, finger drawing shapes on her placemat, “and do not go lookin’ online for anything, because at the end of season two, there’s a massive death, and…”

Your thighs are bare again, skirt rolled up and held at the top of your legs by Joel’s wrist. He’s squeezing as he goes, massaging, driving you fucking insane as he adds more and more pressure. Still, your legs part for him the higher he goes.

“W-what– where can I watch it?” you ask, your eyes closing over as Joel’s fingers loosen their grip.

Deb says something, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Joel’s right hand sits under his chin, elbow propped on the table as if he’s musing over the weather or considering what to do with his weekend.

His left moves swiftly over to run along the elastic of your panties. Sift his thumb down below them. Fingers drop to cup you over the lace fabric. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, your arms propping on the table, then falling to your lap, then one elbow up, then both down again.

What the fuck– how the fuck do you make this look casual? Being touched by your boss at lunch, with three colleagues sat opposite you?

Joel seems to be enjoying watching you squirm. You hear him breathe a laugh into his hand, and then his fingers begin to travel even further south, moving your panties to the side to sift through your folds.

Which are, regrettably, fucking soaked.

“Hm,” you hear Joel hum, and you can’t look at him. Knowing he’s found exactly what he was looking for. Knowing he’s achieved exactly what he set out to do.

You sit stunned, staying completely still for fear you might draw attention from your company. But then he’s dipping a finger in, pushing deep inside you, and your jaw falls loose, a silent moan escaping in the form of a sigh.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Martha addresses you and Joel, “as requested, flights organized. You leave for Paris next Friday morning, fly home Monday afternoon.”

“Yep,” you reply, shuddering slightly. “Sounds good.”

You’re not fucking listening to a word she’s saying.

“Thanks, Martha,” Joel says, as casual as if he were telling her the time. Almost bored.

You drop your hand and it clamps around Joel’s wrist; you’re sure you’re scratching him, but you don’t care. Not only does he deserve it, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming out when he inserts a second finger.

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body.

You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer.

You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

It’s the last push. The last fucking shove.

Your walls clamp around his fist, your entire body screams, a scream that forcibly dies out in your throat as you lean forward and –

You slam your fist down on the tabletop, the sudden jolt of cutlery and glass making the three opposite you jump.

“Are you– what’s wrong?” Martha asks, leaning closer.

“Cr– fuck– cramp,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut, hand still gripping Joel’s wrist. He slowly drags his soaked fingers out of your tight cunt, casually maneuvering his arm back where it belongs whilst the table’s attention is still on your head and shoulders.

“Cramp?”

“My – fucking – leg. I’ll be – right back.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you shakily stand, shoving your chair back with your legs only for it to be caught by the hand Joel had inside you seconds before.

You waddle off to the front of the restaurant, nearly breaking out into a run when you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The door to the ladies room bursts open and you throw yourself against a sink, gripping onto the ceramic, chest heaving, shoulders hunched. Your cunt is still throbbing, waves of your orgasm slowly losing power and retreating.

You wave your hand under the faucet and cold water automatically flows, filling your cupped hands, cooling your blood, cooling your skin when you dab it onto your cheeks. You sigh with relief, leaning against the sink, catching pathetic glimpses of yourself in the mirror.

And then, the door pushes open. And his silhouette sneaks inside. He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. Face with a smirk you want to slap off of him.

“How’s the cramp?”

“Are you fucking–” You flick your hands toward him, splashing him with water as he throws an arm up to dodge it, laughing. That fucking laugh.

He wanders around you, looking your shaking body up and down, and comes to a halt with his chest against your back. His chin leans into your shoulder, and you look at each other in the mirror.

It takes everything in you to fight the smile growing on your lips, but when Joel mirrors it, you can’t help it.

“Fucker,” you whisper, and he kisses your shoulder. You lean back into him, ass pressing against him, feeling something you already suspected would be there.

“Feel what you did to me?” he asks, voice muffled into the cotton of your shirt.

“Mhm,” you reply, and you drop your hand to take the outline of him through his pants.

“You wanna fix it for me?”

Your head rolls back against his shoulder, smutty grin melting across your face. “Yeah, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, lips dragging across your neck, hands at his belt.

Your fingers clutch your skirt, still hiked halfway up your thighs, and pull it further. Joel’s hands replace yours on your hips and he shoves his pants apart, lining his bulge up with your core. Then his palm is at the bottom of your back, pushing you forward into position. Your knuckles whiten around the ceramic sink.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you feel his tip at your entrance. You’re already soaked through, no need for him to take his time. Not that you have time, anyway, with three coworkers out front waiting for the two of you.

Joel thrusts forward, entering you in one go, filling you up so fast you nearly double over. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, dragging you up and down the top of his cock a few times before slamming all the way into you again, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, low, dangerous. “Just gettin’ you warmed up.”

“Your hand wasn’t enough of a warmup?” you throw over your shoulder, and he takes your arms and pulls you flush against him.

“You gonna run that pretty mouth the entire time we’re in here, or you gonna let me fuck you?” he breathes around the shell of your ear.

“Both.”

You bite back a whimper when his hips buck into you painfully. A telling: don’t start.

Joel establishes a pace quick enough, both of you aware you can’t take too long in here. His grunts match the rate his body snaps against yours, your panting matches the rate you bounce up and down on him.

You’re watching the sight reflected in the mirror: Joel hooked around your shoulder, lips against your ear, whispering praises and filth, and you, leaning back against him, rutting on his hard cock with a thick smile on your lips.

“Daddy…” you whine, and Joel’s vice grip tightens even more.

“Good girl,” he pants, “so fuckin’ good for me.”

It’s not long before that heat is swirling around your core again, sparks of lightning jolting through the whirlwind of pleasure Joel’s hips create between yours. You take a hold of his arms for stability as you begin to feel your orgasm crest the horizon, knowing by the sounds he’s making in your ear that Joel isn’t far off, either.

“Cum in me,” you whimper, watching for his reaction in the mirror.

He pulls a face that’s almost…defeated. Groans like you’ve given him an impossible problem to solve.

You plead with your eyes. “Cum – in – me.”

It’s like you’re pressing on the weakest part of a porcelain vase; daring it to break. Daring it to fall apart. Joel knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s more sensible not to. But the way you look, body against his, whining and whimpering and fucking smiling right back at him – the way you feel, so warm and wet, squeezing him so tight he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long…

He can’t fucking help himself.

He moans and his hands clamp on your waist, forcing you forward as he ruts into you once, twice, three times before he’s twitching deep inside, warm seed spilling out and coating your walls. Your release floods over you, then, too, your head falling forward as your legs give for a few seconds, Joel’s grip the only thing keeping you upright.

Stars in your eyes, you pull the strength to lift your head and look at your reflection; Joel behind you, face to the ceiling as he slowly stills between your legs.

Your cunt throbs, and you move your hips back and forth gently, drawing a noise from Joel that you wish you could never stop hearing.

“Baby,” he lulls, looking down to watch as your dripping cunt rocks back and forth, taking him all and then letting him go again.

It’s a minute or so before you both return to reality. Bodies still connected, Joel places a steady kiss to your cheek. You lean into him, turning to place your lips against his. You’re both hot, sweaty, it’s probably pretty noticeable you just fucked.

And you don’t care.

Joel slips out of you and backs up, letting you fix yourself in the mirror as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“You think you can walk back to the office?” he asks, smirking.

“Call Rand,” you reply, and his head tips back in a laugh.

He nods toward the door and the pair of you slip out discreetly, you first to check the coast is clear, and Joel right behind. You walk along the hallway, heels clicking, like you’ve just come across each other right outside the restrooms.

“Hey, Joel,” a voice says from behind you both as you wander past the bar.

“Drew,” Joel replies, and shakes the hand of a tall blonde guy in all black. His t-shirt’s so tight you can make out his pecs underneath it.

“How’s it goin’? You been in long?”

“Just waitin’ for our food,” Joel says, “it’s probably out by now.” He glances over at you and your legs clench subconsciously. He introduces you then, says, “My assistant. Best assistant I could ask for,” and your lungs close up.

Drew shakes your hand and then turns back to Joel. “Don’t go without catchin’ me, ain’t lettin’ you pay a thing. How’s business?”

Joel nods. “Good, good. We’re, uh, we’re heading out to Europe next week, so.”

“Jean-Marc?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. Place is lookin’ good, same as always.” Joel glances around, pointing randomly to the light fixture above your heads.

Drew does that thing men do when trapped in a dry conversation: folds his arms, looks to the floor, and nods some more. Waiting for Joel to say —

“Alright, well. Great seein’ you again. Thanks for lunch.”

He puts an arm around your back and guides you off back to the table.

“Nice meetin’ you.” You smile at Drew as you pass and he returns it, turning back to the bar.

Once you’re out of earshot, you look over to Joel.

“Something going on there?”

“Huh?”

You scoff. “You two couldn’t wait to be away from each other. Why’d you always come here if it’s so awkward?”

“Well, if I see ‘im, I get free food.”

You slap his arm as he pulls your chair back out for you.

“Feelin’ better?” Deb asks, pushing French fries around her plate.

You nod, pulling your seat in beside Joel, who’s still laughing at himself. As you settle, you feel the warmth he left behind spill out of you a little, pooling in your underwear. And Joel seems to notice, whether from some sexual sixth sense he has when it comes to you, or just the way you awkwardly shift in your seat. He hands you a smug smirk, nudging you with his elbow.

You narrow your eyes at him and turn back to Martha.

“So, you were saying you fixed the flights for Paris?”

----------

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[jflemings]

— the better option

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: you have to make a choice

warnings: SMUT, profanity, switch!jessie (for my own agenda)

a/n: this is… certainly something! (this is literally pure filth and i cannot stress that enough)

based off the lyrics “i’m gon’ love her better ‘cause her man ain’t shit”

you were in pure disbelief as you pulled up to jessie’s place.

you had been fighting with your now ex boyfriend for the third time this week. he had slammed his way into your apartment demanding that you choose between him and your best friend because he’s apparently ‘had enough’ of jessie coming between the two of you. his face was almost bright red when you laughed at him and told him, with all the confidence in the world, that your choice would always be jessie, that she was always going to be the better option.

so now here you were. after kicking him out and telling him to go fuck himself, you’d gotten straight into your car and drove to jessie’s.

you trudge up the stairs of the building to her front door before letting yourself in. she’s standing in her kitchen when you loudly announce yourself, the anger in your voice making her jump slightly.

“fucking prick” you seethe “asking me to choose between the two of you as if i’m not going to choose you everytime!”

jessie sips her glass of water and watches you pace in her kitchen amused. she hadn’t ever really liked him but kept her distain quiet because you had seemed to really like him, but deep down she knew that the two of you weren’t going to last.

the first problem was that he couldn’t make you cum.

the second was that he’s not her.

“and then, and then!” you flail about “he told me— to my face, jess— that he thinks i’m in love with you and that’s the reason i won’t suck his dick more than twice a week!”

the midfielder almost chokes on her drink at your words. you’d come to her after every fight ranting and raving about how much of an ass he was and how badly you needed to break it off, but never had you told her that.

“so?” she questions.

you stop and turn to her with your arms cross “so what?”

“so was he right?” jessie doesn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, nor has she thought about what is going to happen if you are in fact in love with her, but she doesn’t care. the unspoken tension has been building between the two of you for far too long and she needs a straight answer for her own sake.

the truth was that she’s been in love with you for a while now. it was a conclusion she came to slowly, but once she had, it was only a matter of time before she let her feelings spill out all over you.

she just needed to know.

you stare at her blankly and drop your arms by your side. your brows furrow “well– um” there’s a thick feeling of something in the air as jessie awaits your answer. her fingers twitch against her glass as she watches you.

“yeah, i mean, he was” you admit quietly.

the two of you stare at eachother for a moment before jessie slams her glass down on the counter top and walks straight up to you, taking your face in her hands and kissing you hard. you’re quick to react with hands around her neck and in her hair, walking the both of you backwards until you hit the counter.

your tongue runs along her lower lip as a way to ask for permission, which jessie readily grants, and you slide your tongue into her mouth. she groans as you pull at the roots of her hair and pulls off your mouth.

“i hated him” she admits into your lips “such a fucking asshole” jess slots her knee in between your legs and pushes up into your core. you grown into her mouth and let yourself settle on her knee, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter before jessie breaks away from you and lifts you up abruptly.

you yelp and settle on the cold laminate, wrapping your arms around jessie’s neck once again and threading your fingers through her curls. she groans at the sensation and immediately grips the sides of your thighs, pushing herself further into your lips.

she tugs on the hem of your shirt and you hastily take it off before tugging on hers, beginning to lift it up her torso and throw it behind you. your hands perch on her tones shoulders as you kiss her sloppily across her face before mouthing at her jaw and neck.

“are you sure” she asks breathlessly “because we can stop—”

“no” you say into her warm skin “unless you want to”

“no fucking way”

“bedroom?” you question her, to which she wordlessly picks you up and guides your legs around her waist.

she leads the both of you to her bedroom blindly, kicking open the door and walking to the end of her bed. she places you down and takes your chin between her forefinger and thumb, kissing you hard.

your own fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts before she quickly lets you stand and takes them off herself. the sight of your panties makes her cock her head and smirk.

“did you come here with a mission?” she teases

“can’t a girl just wear a matching set for the sake of it?”

jessie rolls her eyes and pushes you back down onto the bed before hastily planting her lips firmly on yours. one hand slides from your hips to your waist whilst the other snakes around the middle of your back. she pushes her hand past the underwire of your bra and cups your breast, kneading the flesh as her kisses get sloppier.

you toy with the waistband of her shorts impatiently, leaving her to break away from you momentarily so she can pull her shorts and underwear down her legs in one swift motion, tossing the clothing across the room. she’s quick to take off your own soaked panties and unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts of the black lace that covered them.

her lips wrap around one of your nipples whilst she rolls the other in between her thumb and forefinger. you feel her tongue circle your areolae teasingly a few times before nipping the perked bud shortly. you rub your thighs together in an attempt to gain some friction and groan lowly as the brunette releases your nipple. she smirks up at you and moves to the other one, paying it the same attention and repeating her actions.

“jessie” you say breathlessly to which she hums against you.

she lets go of your nipple with a pop and tilts her head “yes, pretty girl?”

you whine and push her shoulders “please”

“please?” she says mockingly “please what baby?”

you rub your thighs together frustratedly “please just fuck me already”

she smiles and allows you to push her down. her hands crawl down your stomach and over your legs as she begins to sit up, pulling your knees apart slowly.

“so wet already” she tuts as she runs a finger through your folds “all for me?”

“all for you”

the canadian hums again and crawls to the end of the bed before standing at the foot of it. she grabs your ankles and pulls you towards her causing you to yelp in surprise.

jessie gets on her knees and hooks your legs over her shoulders, wasting no time as she dives in. she opens her mouth over both your clit and entrance and gathers spit on her tongue before running the muscle over you sloppily. lewd, wet sounds fill the room as she laps you up.

your heels dig into her back and you arch off the mattress “jessie” you moan loudly at the feeling of her exploring the most intimate part of you. pulling away, she uses her fingers to spread your folds before smoothly sliding two fingers in at once

“oh my fucking god” you arch your back at the full feeling and jessie places a forearm on your abdomen to hold you to the bed. she curls her fingers presses into your sweet spot immediately before pulling out slightly and repeating her actions. she smirks at the way you’re already squirming under her. the tension that had been brewing was finally being released, and she was having the time of her fucking life.

her fingers piston out of you with ease and she angles her thumb awkwardly to merely put pressure on your puffy clit. her actions are rewarded with a high pitched moan and breathy half laugh as you white-knuckle the sheets under you.

you were singing her name to the heavens like it was a prayer, each moan, groan and breathless profanity getting jessie wetter than before.

“taking me so well” she praises whilst watching your face “can’t ever believe he’d let you go”

as your legs begin to shake and you clench around her fingers, jess watches in awe as you cum all over her fingers with a loud, breathless moan. “atta girl, there you go” she utters “you look so pretty coming all over my fingers. such a pretty girl”

your hips buck as you ride it out, your fists letting go of the sheets in favour for jessie’s free hand. you pull her up towards your lips, humming in contentment when her fingers dig into your hips as you kiss her hard. she swipes her tongue across your bottom lip and slots it into your mouth when you allow it, kissing you like she was a woman starved.

finding the strength, you get up into a sitting position and push jessie onto her back so you can straddle her waist. her hands slide up your waist and across your back as you kiss all over her jaw before nipping her earlobe. slowly, you lick behind her ear before latching you lips to the sensitive skin and sucking.

you nudge jessie’s jaw with your nose and suck down the column of her throat, nipping the quickly bruising marks. her hands hook your thighs just under your ass and begins to pull you up her body “want you on my face” she breathily says.

“what” you ask almost in disbelief.

“i want you to sit on my face” she repeats, still pulling you up her body. you shakily sit on your knees and place your hands on the headboard to give jessie enough room to slide under you. she does so eagerly, digging her fingers into your thighs and smiling cockily as you hover over her.

when you don’t put your weight on her immediately she does it for you, pulling your core onto her mouth and immediately getting to work. the canadian flattens her tongue against you and presses it to your hole before dragging it to your sensitive clit, closing her eyes in pleasure. she repeats the motion before dipping the tip of her tongue inside you teasingly.

your jaw goes slack as you look down at her and furrow your brows before you wriggle on her face to encourage her to do more. jessie grips your thighs and moans into your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. she doesn’t give you much more time to react before she pulls the hood of your clit back and begins to mercilessly suckle on the bundle of nerves.

your hips buck and you throw your head back in pure ecstasy. one of your hands fly to jessie’s hair and you tug at the roots, earning another low groan from the footballer. “fuck jess just like that! holy fuck”

the praise only makes jessie speed up her movements and she flicks her tongue over your clit with more pressure. her hands leave your thighs and find a new home on your boobs, immediately kneading them and running her thumbs over your perked nipples. your hands grab the back of her own just as coils of pleasure begin to tighten within you. your thighs flex against jessie’s head, trapping her in and allowing you to rock back and forth against her mouth quickly as you chase your high. your head hangs low on your neck, hair falling in your face as you look down at her.

she looks like she’s in heaven in between your legs. her hair is sprawled put over her pillows and her pupils are blown out wide, the normal warm brown that you’ve grown so accustomed to disappearing. the way she’s looking at you, paired with the fact that you can feel your juices all over her face, has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“yes jessie, yes jessie, fuck” you babble in between moans, your fingers tightening around her hands “i’m gonna– shit, i’m gonna cum” you breathe out, screwing your eyes shut as white hot pleasure completely overcomes your body for the second time.

the canadian flattens her tongue as you ride her face and she’s gone from pinching and rolling your nipples to just kneading the plush flesh in between her palms. you slide off her mouth and catch your breath, continuing to keep her hands on your chest as you come down. your legs are like jelly when you practically fall off her face and onto your back next to her, your chest heaving as you process the two absolutely mind blowing orgasms jessie has just given you.

she props herself up on her elbow and swipes her thumb under her bottom lip and over her chin before putting it in her mouth, licking off any of your release that she didn’t get in her mouth. she leans over you with a cocky smirk “that was hot” she says before bringing your mouths together in a searing kiss, sliding one of her hands under your neck to bring you closer to her. you moan at the taste and smell of yourself on her and push her shoulders back so she’s laying on her back.

you sloppily kiss her, licking into her mouth before kissing down her neck and the valley of her breasts “treat me so good jess” you mumble against her hot skin “no one’s ever made me cum that hard”

she moans at the praise and threads her fingers through your roots softly as you kiss your way down her body. you settle at the end of the bed and slowly put her legs over your shoulders, kissing the inside of her thighs “especially him” you purr, dipping the tip of your middle finger inside her before circling her clit.

“fuck” jessie chokes out, gripping the roots of your hair tighter.

you continue to prod at her entrance teasingly whilst your non-dominant hand crawls it’s way back up her stomach. flattening your palm just above her belly button, you press your tongue to her clit firmly and watch her head slowly roll back on her neck.

one thing that you had learnt about jessie from being friends with her was that she would kill to be praised. she never asked for it, obviously, but everytime someone would tell her how well she was doing a determined fire lit in her eyes. you now know that jessie strived to be the best on the pitch and in the bedroom.

while your tongue works her swollen clit painfully slow your middle and ring finger spread her folds. “such a good girl getting me off like that jess” you praise, pressing your fingers against her “good girls get rewards y’know”

jessie does the best to hold eye contact with you as you slowly sink into her, pulling a delicious groan from her lips “you do know that good girls get rewards, don’t you?”

“mhm” she nods, moving one hand from your hair to cup your cheek, running her thumb over your cheekbone affectionately.

you gather some of her wetness on the tips of your fingers and circle her entrance once again before pushing your middle finger in, curling it as you go. you keep your eyes locked on jessie as she throws her head back and begins to pant. desperate for another reaction like that, you curl and uncurl your finger whilst thrusting in and out of her at a comfortable pace.

jessie’s chest rises and falls and her fingers tighten in your hair “more” she breathes out “please”

“more?” you hum and jessie nods. “i think you deserve that”

you punctuate your words with a second finger. you build your pace until she’s withering under you, her legs shaking and her is abdomen tensing. “c-close” loudly moans “don’t stop i’m so close”

“you gonna cum for me jessie?” you muse, laying your head on her thigh right next to her pussy. your breath fans over her clit that’s desperate for attention and when she gives you another quick nod, you cave.

you’re quick to make work of her clit, sucking and licking to your heart’s content. your eyes are trained on jessie’s face, watching her screw her eyes shut and drop her jaw as she mumbles profanities to no one in particular. she pulsates around your fingers and you can tell that she’s right of the edge just waiting to plummet.

you decide to give her a little push.

you pull off her clit “been so good for me jess. so, so good for me. c’mon baby”

the praise does exactly what you expect. her eyes roll to the back of her head and her hips twitch wildly as you slow your pace to help her ride it out. her loud moans are music to your ears as she comes undone all over you, her juices running down your fingers and beginning to pool in the palm of your hand.

you keep yourself still inside her for a moment as she pants heavily. she lifts her head just as you pull out of her slowly and bring your soaked fingers to your mouth to like them clean of her.

“oh fuck” she curses, throwing her head back against the soft pillow tiredly.

you can’t help but laugh and crawl back up the length of her body, smiling sweetly at her before peppering kisses all over her face. her freckled cheeks are still flushed and she’s got a layer of sweat coating her but you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.

“so how you feeling?” she asks you as if her legs aren’t still shaking minutely from the earth shattering orgasm you just gave her.

“like i’ve made the right choice”

[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.II

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. suggestive content. swearing. 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ™️. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware of the poll results, but I had already planned to go against the consensus beforehand (cuz ain’t nobody tells me what to do). So smut in pt.III I promise. pls don’t be mad. Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡

╰ ┈➤ Part I

One of Jason's most cherished aspects of his Red Hood helmet was its ability to allow him to doze off undetected. He was curious how Y/N would react if he fell asleep at her place. He knew many people often tried, and foolishly so, to take off his helmet when he was asleep to try to find his identity. Despite his affection for her, he felt the need to ensure her trustworthiness because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear if she betrayed him. If she were to betray him, he reasoned, it would be better sooner rather than later. Feigning sleep, he waited. For a while she just sat and watched him. And not in a vigilant or cautious way, atleast it didn't that way to him. He hoped she would remain that way, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. He heard her retreat to her room, the smallness of her apartment allowing him to observe almost every movement. Maybe I'll buy her a nicer place, he thought to himself.

As she approached him, she checked once more, hiding something behind her back. She wouldn't try to take off his helmet, would she? A profound sense of dread and apprehension gripped him. She was the last person he wanted to betray him. Soon he found himself questioning his own judgment and the authenticity of the relationship. What did you expect? A sinister voice taunted him.

He felt his brain cloud with a whirlwind of emotions such as shock, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and confusion. When her fingertips grazed his helmet, it felt like a deep, agonizing wound piercing to his core. Initially, there was disbelief—a refusal to acknowledge that someone he loved and trusted could do that. He could feel the pit rage resurface, fierce and consuming, directed at her and perhaps even at himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to be wounded in such a way.

He anticipated her lifting his helmet, only she didn't. She withdrew her hands and let out a tiny giggle. He was struck with the realisation that she didn't try to take his helmet off, rather she placed something atop it. It was out of his field of view so he couldn't quite tell what it was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her take out her phone and snap a picture. Unfortunately for her, she forgot to switch off the flash. Jason took the opportunity and in the blink of an eye, her grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his shoulder, slamming into the couch. He pushed his forearm against her throat with his other hand pinning her under him.

“What do you think you're doing angel ?” He growled as his thumb trailed from her bottom lip to her cheek in a gesture that was equal parts sultry and sinister. Her eyes widened like saucers as cold sweat started to form on the side of her forehead. Her body might froze momentarily before trembling with fear. He didn't realise just how small she felt against him until he was on top of her. Akin to a quivering rabbit ensnared in a hunter's trap. Truth be told, the analogy wasn't far off.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. I swear it was a prank —" She tugged at her restraints with tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her breathing becoming shallower and rapid but Jason didn't budge. She felt all too aware of the situation she was in. His proximity so close that she could feel so exposed under his gaze. It was intimidating yet so intoxicating, the feeling of being enclosed by him, the scent that was so intense and virile was enough to make her head spin. She could hear her heartbeat resonating in her ears and it was clear that he could too. Needless to say, Y/N L/N messed up big time.

"What was ? Hmm?" He leaned in closer to her face until his helmet was mere centimeters away, relishing in the sadistic pleasure of watching her teary eyes as she whimpered and muttered incomprehensible apologies. Seeing her struggle to form words, he picked up her phone to view the picture she had taken. It was him with what seemed like — a fuzzy bear ears headband? He plucked it from his helmet, staring at it incredulously. You have got to be kidding me.

"You're so fucking adorable, you know that ?" He let out an airy chuckle that was felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh. "You're not mad at me ?"Y/N's voice sounded so desperate like a broken whimper. Her pretty eyes still wide and a little teary and red at the ends, a visible look of confusion etched onto it.

He wanted to stroke her cheek again, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. "I don't know. Should I be?" He chuckled, and while he was mostly teasing, he couldn't help but marvel at her.

Despite his experiences with many women, he had never encountered someone so captivating. Just by the virtue of being pinned under him, she looked just so impossibly inviting. Jason found himself rendered breathless as his mind wandered into the realm of the most salacious thoughts.

"But this warrants punishment. Does it not?" He watched her breath catching in her throat, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushing with heat.

Y/N swallowed hard," Punishment ?" She nervously peered at the man, a a slight shiver running down her spine as she could almost feel his piercing cold gaze from behind the red helmet. She understood her predicament and knew she shouldn't be enjoying it. It could take an unfavourable turn at any given moment and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Suddenly, he released her hands and leaned back. Despite feeling a little disoriented from his sudden absence of his towering self, Y/N sat back up. Jason held up the headband in his hand,"Do you have more of these?"

"A few. Yes" she replied.

"Go get them." he said nonchalantly. Y/N blinked at his request, feeling a hint of disappointment creeping in. As she rose slowly and made her way to the dresser, she scolded herself internally, Jesus get your brain out of the gutter Y/N. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she gathered all the headbands she had and dropped them onto the couch. "You have quite the collection," Jason chuckled, examining a headband. "Mostly from previous Halloweens and costume cafés I used to work at." Y/N explained. Jason's gaze settled on a particularly intriguing headband - white floppy bunny ears with pink bows. He tossed it onto her lap, grinning,“Put this on.”

Y/N complied without question and looked at him expectantly. Jason whipped out his phone and aimed it at her,“ Strike me a cute pose angel." Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise embarrassment," Wait what ?”

"Well you clicked that picture of me so it's pretty fair trade if you ask me." He reasoned, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though secretly relishing the moment thoroughly. He maintained composure, not wanting to risk scaring her away. He eagerly snapped photos as Y/N reluctantly donned the headband and flashed a small peace sign, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his own heart racing in his chest and his face growing warm.

"Please don't show it to anyone. It's embarrassing," She pleaded. Jason acknowledged her request with an absentminded nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn't quite reached the stage of covertly taking pictures and plastering them on his walls like a stalker, but he reasoned that photos she consented to were fair game. Plus that was more Tim's thing, Jason liked shooting his shot up front or atleast that’s what he told himself. He casually grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap so she wouldn't have to see his raging boner.

"Now how about we fire up the console. Video games you said?" Jason suggested holding the dvd in his hand that Y/N had completely forgotten about. She eagerly grabbed the controllers and settled onto the couch, anticipation sparking in her eyes as the previous tension eased. Jason stared at the game dvd and couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. "Do you play video games often ?" Y/N asked him with a smile. "Only when I'm with the boys at the batcave or with Ro – ahem I meant Arsenal. Starfire is temporarily banned because she's burnt too many controllers out of excitement." She laughed at his words, almost imagining the scene.

"Well I'm sure you dominate in physical fights. Let's see how you hold out in a virtual one. I hope you're ready." Y/N challenged, a competitive gleam in her eyes.

"Bring it on angel." Jason replied, his fingers already poised over the buttons. Before they knew, they were completely immersed in the game, their laughter and exchanging banter and competitive jabs filling the room. Whether they were working together to overcome a tough level or engaging in heated competition, their bond only grew stronger with each passing minute.

"Oh come on ! You've won like the fourth time in a row. This thing has to be rigged !" Jason accusingly jabbed his controller at the screen in frustration, eliciting laughter from Y/N at how worked up he got over something insignificant like a video game.

"'ll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a pro. Back in college, gaming was like my side hustle," she whispered with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer. Jason's interest piqued at her revelation. He couldn't deny his curiosity about how she had been these past few years. Despite his thorough investigations, he knew that no amount of research could uncover the personal intricacies of her college life - the moments of joy that lit up her face, the frustrations that weighed heavy on her shoulders, the solitary hours spent, the struggles she endured, and the victories she celebrated. It was a side of her story that remained untold, a mystery he was eager to unravel.

"In college, I used to dress up real cute and go to frat parties and challenge guys to play with me and if they lost they'd have to pay me." Y/N continued. It sounded like a perfect plan on paper. Deceptive disguise, psychologically analysing targets and exploiting their weaknesses against them, strategic thinking and meticulosity. But her explanation wasn't enough to satiate his curiosity. "And what if they won?" The most important part of any good plan was enticing bait. A part of him knew the answer but still wanted confirmation. "Something no college frat boy would reject. I said I'd blow their dick." Y/N grinned causing Jason to visibly freeze in disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but don’t worry l've never lost. Ever," she assured him quickly. After a pause, Jason's voice wavered at the start of the sentence as he spoke up, "How much did they have to pay you if you won?" Y/ N furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to recall the details from the past events. Amidst the long hours of studying in med school and her meager earnings from a part-time job, she had resorted to more crafty ways of earning money and gaming happened to be the most lucrative option to make more in less time.

"Well, most college students couldn't afford to pay much, so it was ten dollars per game," she explained. Jason nodded, retrieving his wallet. "You beat me four times, right ?" With determination, he placed four hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table before her, his next words filled with unwavering resolve,"Play your game with me angel.” Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of the money on the table, and she took in a deep breath, contemplating his offer for a moment. What could she possibly have to lose?

“It's okay Red. You tried.” After two more rounds of competition, Jason suffered a devastating loss before finally realizing why he felt a sense of déjà vu— it was the same video game he, Duke, Dick, and Tim had played a couple of months ago. He vividly remembered losing his temper, nearly throwing hands when Tim used underhanded tactics against him and Dick violated every rule of sportsmanship and sacrificing every last modicum of decency over the game and Damian scoffing at their "immaturity" like he always did while Duke tried his best to pacify the conflict. The reason he didn't recognise this before was because him and Y/N were playing in a different mode than this. "How about we switch up the mode?"

"Sure let's do it."Y/N grinned confidently. The two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the glowing neon screens in front of them. Their fingers danced across the controllers, every move was calculated, every strategy meticulously planned as they vied for dominance. The room was filled with the sound of intense concentration and occasional bursts of laughter or frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, as neither of them were willing to concede an inch in this high-stakes competition. With every round, the stakes rose, and the intensity only grows as they pushed each other to their limits in pursuit of victory.

"You have got to be kidding me." Y/N breathed out as the letters "GAME OVER" As the defeat screen flashed before her eyes, she recoiled in shock, her mouth agape in disbelief. Her eyes widened in astonishment, unable to comprehend how her skill that she believed to be unparalleled had fallen short. Her hands, which had been gripping the controller tightly, now hung limply by her sides, fingers trembling with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Jason's heart raced with exhilaration, his body shaking with the rush of victory. With a triumphant shout, he leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air as a grin stretched across his face. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !! LET'S FUCKING GO !!!”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she comprehended the implication of her loss. Her cheeks flushed with a faint blush of embarrassment and she averted her gaze while fidgeting nervously in her seat. Her tongue ran over her lips as she avoided meeting Jason's eyes. He noticed this and remembered what the winning condition was. He straightened up and cleared his throat, regaining his composure," You know it was just a silly game, you don't have to do that. I won't force you into doing anything you're not comfortable with." Y/N managed a small relieved smile," Thank you. But you know a bet is a bet. So how about a kiss instead ? Wait you’re over 18, right ?"

"A kiss ? Oh cool. Yeah we could do that and to answer your question I’m legal. I’d show you my ID but that kinda defeats the whole purpose of the secret identity thing." Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite how he composed on the outside, he could almost hear his 10 year old self rejoicing at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his first love. Ever since the warehouse incident, he had buried that naive part of himself, believing it to be dead along with other redeeming qualities, at least according to those around him.

He knew he wandered down dark paths, driven by desires of revenge, bitterness and reckless impulses. But when he looked into her eyes, deep within him, he felt that there was a flicker of hope, a belief that redemption is possible. He knew he wasn't deserving of someone so sweet and pure, but perhaps just this once, he would allow himself this one indulgence.

"So should I like bring out the scarf ?" Y/N asked. Her heart, which was felt unstable and claustrophobically confined inside of her, hammering against her ribcage as if it sought to burst out and soar away. "Don't bother." Jason interjected, producing a small black box from his jacket pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, but never found the right moment." Y/N opened the box and found a silk blindfold which was black on one side and red on the other, the same shade of red as his helmet. As her fingertips glided over its surface, it felt like touching liquid satin. There's a distinct sensation of coolness and silkiness that enveloped her. It was like touching a cloud or being embraced by a gentle breeze. “What's this for ? Don't trust my scarf enough ?” Y/N joked. Jason shrugged his shoulders and answered casually,“Well yes and no. Your scarf is made of scratchy fabric and you have sensitive skin so I thought —”

“How do you know I have sensitive skin ?” She couldn’t recall sharing that detail, finding it peculiar that he knew. Jason bit his tongue, regretting his slip-up. It was one of those things he remembered about her from years ago. When they were younger, she would often complaint how her work uniform was really scratchy and how she hated it against her sensitive skin and he would always say that when he grew up he would buy her the nicest and softest of clothes. But of course given their current circumstance, he couldn’t tell her that.

Jason pointed to the bottle of lotion sitting on the dinner table. “That. It says for dry and sensitive skin.” Y/N turned in the direction he pointed her astonishment rendering her momentarily speechless, her mouth agape, unable to comprehend how he pieced together such intricate details. Her eyes widened with admiration, reflecting a mixture of awe and reverence for his uncanny ability to observe so keenly, she commented,“ You know everything about you is such a suspension of disbelief kinda thing. Like I’m sure you could tell me the craziest things and I’d go ‘yeah sure that makes sense’. ”Jason chuckled awkwardly, relieved that he had quickly found an explanation for his slip-up and diverted her suspicion,“Well you know being around batman, the detective shit rubs off.”

Y/N raised the blindfold to her eye level and with deliberate movements, she tied it securely around her head, feeling the darkness engulfing her vision. The fabric is incredibly fine, almost weightless against her skin. The smoothness of silk glides effortlessly against the skin, created a feeling of luxury and indulgence effectively making the moment much more sensuous than it was supposed be. With the blindfold tied securely around her eyes, a hush fell over her surroundings, amplifying the sound of her own heartbeat.

A sense of anticipation filled her, as if the world had suddenly become a mystery waiting to be explored solely through touch, sound, and intuition. She couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her veins, feeling herself surrendering to the unknown, willingly relinquishing the sense of sight for a deeper, more visceral experience. As darkness enveloped her, her other senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. Y/N let out a soft gasp when she heard his helmet being set down on the table with a quiet thud.

“You know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to back out. I —” Jason began tentatively, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. She reassured him calmly, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He slowly cupped her face and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Jason’s lips brushed against hers, uncertain and almost fearful. “Y/N I—” he stilled against her, waiting for her reaction. He knew this was one bridge that once burnt would either leave him at the edge of the abyss or paradise and needless to say, he couldn’t blow this. “Just shut up and kiss me Red. You earned it.”

“Yes ma’am,”Jason let out a breath of disbelief. The world around him seemed to melt away and all that existed was her and the euphoric feeling of her warm and pliant mouth on his. The beast inside him thrashed against the iron bars of his cage of self control, its roars echoing within him — wanting nothing but to sink his teeth into Y/N’s supple and inviting flesh and ravage her. His fingers cupping her face twitched with the need to touch more of her. Before he knew, his hands slid up of its own accord and tangled themselves in the soft locks of her hair.

Jason spent a lifetime honing his self control. Batman had drilled its importance into his system but as of now could feel every last ounce of self control he possessed slip through his fingers like sand. But he forced himself to focus. A part of him felt guilty for feeling the way he felt about her, his need for her — it was desperate, perverse, wrong even because Jason knew that if she realised that who he was she might never look at him the same way again but he couldn’t get himself to let go of something so damnably intoxicating. Y/N was the first one to pull away, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if trying to catch up with her sprinting heart. She could feel him grin against her lips.

“Good game Red.”

“Does anyone else feel like she's finally lost it, or is it just me ?”

"I can hear you, Stephanie," Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. In retaliation, the blonde high schooler blew a raspberry at her co-worker, causing Y/N to shake her head in resignation. "That's why I said it. Babs back me up," Stephanie retorted.

“Please. We have enough crazies in Gotham as it is, there’s no need for any more.” Barbara Gordon was another one of Y/N best friends along with Cass Cain and was the daughter of the GCPD commissioner and the girlfriend of Dick Grayson. She was a couple years older than Y/N and most of all, the mom friend and pacifist of the group.

"But you know you have been acting strange. You've been touching your lips every five minutes and zoning out like right now —" Cass trailed off, sipping coffee from cup. Not realizing that she was doing that right now, Y/N jerked her hand off as if caught while stealing. The second the words left Cass's mouth, a realization dawned on the trio simultaneously, as if a light bulb had illuminated above their heads.

"What ?" Y/N muttered feeling oddly cornered. Trying her hardest to ignore the elephant in the room, she went back to working. The three friends exchanged glances, silently debating who would broach the subject with Y/N. Eventually, Barbara rolled her eyes and took charge, as neither of the younger girls seemed willing. "Y/N, I'd like to order," Barbara declared, wheeling her wheelchair closer to the counter. Y/N shifted her attention to her, nodding as she grabbed a pen and notepad, ready to take Barbara's order with practiced efficiency.

"I'd like to order tea," Barbara stated.

"Sure. So, would that be Earl Grey?" Y/N asked with a knowing smile.

"Nope."

"Assamese?"

"Not that either."

"Darjeeling ? Jasmine ? Matcha ?" Y/N proposed, offering a variety of tea options in an attempt to pinpoint Barbara's preference, her brows furrowing in confusion as to why she wasn't ordering her usual. “Then ?” She tilted her head in questioning but Barbara just smiled back and winked playfully,“You know, tea, piping hot if you know what I mean.”

“Uggh fine you win. So there's this guy,” The h/c haired woman started slowly and the three women groaned in unison. This was a common yet much disliked drill. The atmosphere shifted and a heavy silence settles over the group. Cass's eyes widened, a look worry flashing across her face. She exchanged a quick glance with Steph, who mirrored her expression. Barbara, ever the voice of reason, remained composed but her concern was evident in the slight furrow of her brow,“ We’ve talked about this.”

Y/N, the one who had made the revelation, shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of her companions. She could feel the weight of their judgment bearing down on her, and it made her regret ever bringing up the topic. “Okay just hear me out —”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if each of them was struggling with how to respond to this. Finally, it was Steph who broke the silence, her voice edged with frustration.

“No there will be no ‘hear me out’s. Look Y/N Imma be honest with you. You’re legit nicer than 99.99% gothamites and in all honesty the only thing I hate about you is your fucking taste in men. Every seven months you come with hear me out on men who are leather wearing alcoholics and are always gaslighting, lying, cheating, abusive bastards or just straight up criminals !” She whispered in a tone passionately incredulous, drawing attention from other cafe patrons. Cass remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. It was clear that she shared Steph's apprehension about their friend's poor taste in men.

Barbara chose her words carefully. “She’s right, you do have a bit of a problem. We just don’t want you getting hurt over guys like that or worse them hurting you and I don’t mean just emotionally.” she spoke gently, her tone laced with genuine concern.

“It’s not even that bad —” Y/N started. “Well you did date a two bit drug dealer.” Cass muttered quietly. “How was I supposed to know that ? It’s not like he offered me to do cocaine on the first date plus Orphan did save me in the nick of time so no harm done.” Y/N huffed in defense.

“Why don’t you try dating someone who’s actually nice for a change?”

“Sure, like who?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.

“Maybe someone who’s like Dick?” Steph suggested. Dick Grayson was the epitome of the popular charismatic jock kid at school. It wasn’t hard to understand why he was so liked — with his sanguine personality, witty puns, kind hearted and generous personality he was pretty much the shining paragon of an upstanding citizen and your boy next door. Unfortunately, such traits rarely aligned with Y/N tastes. “I mean he’s very attractive of course but he’s just not my type you know. He’s too —”

“Nice ?” Barbara guessed.

“Yeah, that. But if he has a brother then well—” Y/N trailed off, half-jokingly.

“No!” The three exclaimed in unison, catching her off guard. Their eyes widened as if she said something really offensive.

“Whoa what was that about ?” Y/N asked. The three exchanged glances, and Barbara cleared her throat before speaking up. “Well, Dick does have brothers. Two of them are minors, so that’s an immediate no, and the third one— he’s not a bad guy per se. He would never hurt a woman, especially someone as sweet as you, but—”

“But?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and shook her head, urging her friend to continue.

“He’s got issues. Like a boatload of them,” she finished, carefully articulating each word.

“What sort of issue ? Daddy issues ? Mommy Issues ? Parental Issues ? Parental Issues - Orphan Edition ? Step parent issues ? I’ve dealt with them all before you know.”

“More like all, in that order.” Cass muttered.

“Wow this guy sounds like a party. You should introduce me to him sometime. Him and I would definitely hit it off.” Y/N joked.

“Please don’t come up with any more of those ‘I can fix him’s. You’re a barista not Handy Manny.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to brush off their concerns. “You know what I usually mean by I can fix him is that I can made him tolerable till I get bored of him and dump him. Sure, I’ve made mistakes but this one is different,”she insisted.

“Different how ?” Barbara raised her brow skeptically.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she regaled her friends about the events of the video game bet, conveniently leaving out the details of Red being a vigilante and that prank incident — they didn’t need to know that. Her friends leaned in, somewhat captivated by her animated storytelling. Gasps of disbelief and amazement erupted from her friends. Their curiosity evident as they leaned in, eager to soak in every detail of the story.

The tension in the air had eased as the group exchanged glances, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings about the situation. It was clear that this revelation had thrown them all for a loop, leaving them unsure of how to proceed. But one thing was certain – they would stand by their friend, even if they didn't particularly agree with her choices.

“You know only I was of legal age, I’d wife you up so fast it’d set world records. That ways we wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Steph lamented, earning a smack from Y/N. Despite her sassy quips and teasing, Stephanie Brown was never shy to be vocal about her affections for her favourite barista. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not into kids. Also aren’t you dating Tim ?” Y/N asked.

“Well yeah. But he’s not like my boyfriend boyfriend. He’s like my pet ferret than my boyfriend.”

“I was so sure I got promoted to pet guinea pig last Monday.” A voice piped up from Y/N’s side. She let out a small scream, her body tensing up in pure terror. Her heart raced as she spun around, eyes wide with fear, her hands poised to defend herself, only to find Tim Drake with an expression of mock offence on his face and Dick next to him with his head propped on top of his fist, listening intently with a smile on his face.

“How long have you been standing here ?” She exclaimed, putting her hand on her hip, her voice a mixture of surprise and reproach. Dick’s mischievous grin faltered slightly as she held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oh don’t mind me," he said, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’m just here for the girl talk."

“Dick I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. You aren’t allowed when we’re having the girl talk.” Y/N jabbed her finger in warning at him, her tone tainted with a hint of genuine irritation.

“What ? Why ? Ever since I first watched Mean Girls I’ve always dreamed of being a part of a girl clique. You can’t do this to me.” Wearing a mock expression of sadness and offence, he pouted like a five year old child, crossing his arms.

“Well you can’t sit with us detective.”

“Why not ?”

“Well because this is a girl clique. Duh.” Steph sassed back. Dick raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief,“Discrimination, plain and simple. I demand equal rights for guy friends in girl cliques !”

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Nice try but no. You're always welcome for skin care and movie nights. But girl talk is strictly off-limits. And no don’t look at Babs, she can’t and won’t help you."

Dick’s shoulders slumped dramatically, admitting defeat. "I guess it's just one of life's cruel ironies. But hey, I can still be an honorary member, right ?" He gave her a hopeful grin, knowing fully well that his charm wouldn't be enough to sway her strict rules.

“Just give up man. Winning isn’t in the cards for you. Now, scram. Y/N should please continue.” Tim shooed Dick as if he were a stray dog. “Tim you too.” Cass deadpanned.

“Why ? I’m not like him ! Pretty sure you girls can make exceptions for bi guinea pigs.” He retorted.

“Ferret,” Steph corrected,“ You ate my turkey sandwich last Tuesday so you got demoted to ferret.”

“Only if you’re ready to forfeit your right to a free coffee refills after five paid cups a day.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. Tim’s expression twisted into sheer horror, as if she had threatened his very existence. Given his caffeine addiction, it might as well have been a threat on his life.

Tim cleared his throat and began with a disapproving look, "Ahem. Richard, isn't it utterly disgraceful for esteemed gentlemen like us to eavesdrop on ladies like that? Shame on you. What would Alfred and Bruce say ?"

“Who are Alfred and Bruce?” Y/N inquired. Tim immediately regretted his words, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh, just seniors at work,” Dick hastily replied with an awkward laugh. “You two should probably head out,” Barbara interjected with a pointed look. Tim and Dick hurriedly departed without any sign of resistance. As Y/N turned, she noticed Cass had vanished, and Steph had returned to her tasks, leaving her to process the recent events alone. Huh. Weird.

As Y/N’s weary hand reached for the brass doorknob of her house, she felt the exhaustion of the day to loosen its grip on her, replaced by a sense of relief. The metal of the doorknob offered a stark contrast between its own cold surface and the warmth of home she longed for beyond the threshold. With a familiar click, the door swung open and she hung her bag and scarf on the hat stand. The second she stepped through the threshold, a pleasant aroma of spices and the sound of someone humming to a song floated through the air. The scent was homely and comforting. Wait. I live alone then who’s cooking in the kitchen ? Puzzled and scared, she dropped her keys on the table and cautiously made her way towards the kitchen. With every step, the sound of sizzling and the clinking of utensils grew louder. Tiptoeing to the edge of the kitchen wall, she peered around the corner.

“Red ?” Her eyes widened as she stared at the most unlikely scene she could’ve ever imagined in her life. The vigilante Red Hood — Prince of Gotham, Scourge of the Underworld, the Wraith of Gotham, the Renegade Knight — stood in Y/N’s normal sized apron that looked comically small on him, stirring pasta sauce while listening to Taylor Swift. She stood frozen, unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of her.

“You’re back !” She could almost see him grinning from behind his signature mask. She blinked several times, thinking all of this was some sort of wishful thinking induced daydream. But the smell of simmering marinara and the faint sound of Taylor Swift's voice confirmed otherwise, effectively shattering any semblance of normalcy in the room leaving her to wonder how could this larger-than-life figure, feared by criminals and revered by the city, be standing in her humble kitchen cooking pasta ?

Yet, there he was, a paradoxical blend of hero and something so curiously domestic. As she watched him, a mix of amusement and curiosity washed over her. “What’s going on here ?” Y/N asked, gesturing to the kitchen in general. “Oh this ? Um it sort of happened,” Jason replied casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a vigilante to be whipping up a meal in someone else's kitchen.

“It just happened ?” Y/N repeated dumbfounded. She leaned against the kitchen counter, still trying to process the scene before her. Looking around, she noticed the counter cluttered with groceries she didn’t recall purchasing. Opening the fridge, she saw that her once-empty fridge was stocked with gourmet items she had only seen on upscale cooking shows. “Well I came to see you but you hadn’t returned from work. I got up to get a glass of water from the fridge and saw that there wasn’t anything in it so I —”he began, attempting to explain the situation.

“So you bought me groceries ? And the pasta ? That also just happened ?” she asked, her interest piqued. "Um yeah. It did," he admitted sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It was on a whim don’t think too much of it.” Jason glanced at her, hoping she would find his gesture too strange. His eyes flitted to the clock on the wall before landing back at her,"I figured that it’s already dark outside so it’s not safe to go get stuff. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he quipped, flashing a hint of pride in his voice.

She couldn't argue with that. As she watched him continue to cook, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Despite the reputation he amassed, he was here, in her home, bringing solace that no one had in a very long time. Her world felt harmonious, as if every piece fell into place effortlessly. In that moment, Red Hood wasn't just a feared vigilante—he was a friend, albeit an unusual one, who had somehow found his way into her life and her kitchen and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“By the way,” Jason began, wiping his hands on the apron and shifting his tone to seriousness as he turned towards her, “I wanted to ask you something. Where did you get that?” He gestured towards the felt clipboard hanging on the opposite wall. Y/N followed his gaze, seeing the map of Gotham he had given her along with the necklace the week they met. It had really helped her avoid dangerous parts of the town after dark. But why was he asking about it when he was the one who gave it to her? “What do you mean? You’re the one who gave me the map,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Not the map. The batarang. I don’t recall leaving any of those here,” he clarified. Y/N’s eyes fell on the sleek metal batarang pinning the map to the clipboard. Her mouth rounded in an ‘o’ when she pieced it together. “The batarang ? Red Robin gave it to me.” she exclaimed. Her words clearly struck a nerve because Jason felt completely silent following her words. “It’s a funny story actually. You know I work at a café. This one night I was closing up and Red Robin came in asking for a coffee refill. I had almost closed up the shop but the poor thing looked like he had been through hell so I refilled his coffee. He tried to pay but he couldn’t find his wallet so he paid with a batarang.” She quickly added, hoping to diffuse any building tension.

Jason wordlessly walked to the clipboard and effortlessly retrieving the batarang before swapping it with his own from his pocket. “Better.” He muttered with satisfaction, addressing no one in particular. “Hey give that back !” Y/N tried to take it from his hand but he held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. “What do you even need it for ?” He asked sounding somewhat annoyed. “It was an experience souvenir, you can’t take that !” She tried to reason despite knowing there was no point. “Well I’m sure Red Hood cooking dinner was you is beats refilling coffee for some drenched beaten up rat any day.”

Y/N’s eyes fell on the Red Hood’s batarang that was now pining the Map of Gotham to the clipboard instead of Red Robin’s batarang. It was similar in shape and size, resembling a bat's silhouette with pointed wings extending from a central handle. Except his batarang sported his signature red hue with black-rimmed edges. On closer inspection, Y/N noticed it had the words “Property Of Red Hood” scrawled on it in near illegible handwriting with a permanent marker.

“It’s already in your colours. What’s the point of writing your name on it ?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Because there are little shits that like to take my stuff without asking. So it’s a reminder that if they do, I will find them and after than no one else ever will.” He replied vaguely.

“Thugs ?”

“Worse. Siblings.”

“That sounds… tough,” Y/N remarked. She could only imagine what it would be like dealing with having vigilante siblings and the unique dynamics they have with each other. “You have no idea,” Jason replied in a wry tone. “But y’know ohana and all. Can’t get rid of them even if I wanted to.”

“Then what do you hold against the poor kid ?”

“Look it’s not that. Everyone thinks I hate him but I don’t,” Jason countered, pausing before continuing, “Okay maybe a teeny tiny bit but that’s beside the point. It’s just… it’s just I just hate him with you —”Jason caught himself before ending up saying anything that would just come to bite him in the ass. Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction in realization before smiling. “Are you jealous ?”

“What ? No !” He swiftly shook his head, dismissing the suggestion despite the faint blush creeping up his neck,“ I’m not jealous. He’s just trouble and I don’t want him being near my —”He attempted to maintain his composure, but his defensive tone betrayed a hint of insecurity. Y/N titled her head, studying his body language carefully and asked,“Your what ?”

“My – my person.” Jason finished softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, uncertain about his choice of words. His heart racing as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings not wanting giving too much away nor did he want to invite misunderstandings by using the term ‘friend.’

Y/N let out a small chuckle,“ What ? So just because I work for you means I can’t interact with any of your sibling ?”

Jason raised his head in alarm,“ That’s not what I meant !” He clarified hurriedly. Oh ?

“Then what did you mean ? Hmm ?” Y/N inched closer to him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. It had been exactly five days since he had kissed her, kissed her with insatiable hunger as if he intended to swallow her whole. Glancing down, she noticed his hand clenched around the material of his pants so tightly she feared he might tear a hole into them. Slowly, she trailed her hand up his arm, offering her sweetest smile. She felt his muscles tense under her touch, as though he was fighting - resisting. Y/N knew that teasing him might as well be biting off more than she could chew but Y/N 'life is all about taking risks and new experiences' L/N was willing to bet on her luck.

“The pasta is getting cold. You should —,”Jason's throat tightened as Y/N’s hand reached his shoulder, he couldn’t help but shiver slightly — his resolve wavering under her touch. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but her closeness was making it increasingly difficult to think straight. He watched as she looked right at him and then lowered her gaze to the part of his mask where his lips would be for a split second and then flit back to his eyes with a teasing mirth dancing in her eyes. Fuck. This woman is driving me crazy.

“— e-eat it before it gets cold,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As a part of training, Bruce had taught all the Robins the psychology of seduction so that they could identify it and evade it and as of now, every fibre of his being screamed warnings. Her actions were daring, albeit innocent. But they weren't even half as blatant or polished as the seasoned honeytrappers and seductresses he had encountered, but they still stirred something so primal deep within him, tempting him to abandon caution. The part of his arm her fingertips grazed felt like it was on fire. No scratch that he had experienced what it was to have his skin on fire. This was exponentially worse.

Ever since Y/N re-entered his life, Jason Peter Todd was experiencing what one would call selective erectile dysfunction. Consumed by thoughts of Y/N, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. So a few weeks back, he sought to blow off some steam and divert his mind from the thoughts of Y/N overwhelming his system. Jason considered himself fairly easy to satisfy since all his encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.

However much to his bafflement, his dick refused to react to anything for the past few days and embarrassingly so. There were plenty of flavours to choose from at the iceberg lounge but instead Jason jr. decided to give on the silent treatment instead. It was being a dick, literally. After the whole Lazarus pit shebang, whatever toxic shit he got tossed into as a part of some supervillain’s dastardly schemes, prescription meds he got talked into taking for quote unquote “mental health” — He was no stranger to bodily side effects but this was completely different.

This whole thing reached its height when Jason jr. refused to entertain the advances of a perfectly attractive busty blonde despite the fact that it was dying from sexual frustration and Jason was so ready to get over it. Under normal circumstances, it would be up and ready for action however it decided to stay completely and utterly indifferent — bored even. Effectively forcing Jason into non-consensual celibacy.

The only time it did react in his time at the iceberg lounge was when a model who had conspicuously similar hair colour and face shape to Y/N approached him with flirtation in her eyes. Jason jr. almost got hard, key word almost, when it made the important distinction that she was not Y/N and absolutely didn’t want her lips wandering anywhere his frustrating self. And by selective, he meant that Jason jr. developed a will of his own and turned into one of those overly enthusiastic parents cheering for their kids at school plays, not that Jason had experienced it personally, but that’s besides the point. The point being it would tent up and twitch uncontrollably begging for attention the second he sensed Y/N L/N’s presence in a mile’s distance. At the peak of his condition, Jason couldn’t so much as glance at a surface without his brain conjuring obscene images of how she would look pressed down against it, writhing and moaning his name.

As an avid reader, Jason was something of a hopeless romantic man and he knew that a couple’s first time was an important milestone in their relationship and could most definitely not be done on a whim. He had it all planned out, scented candles, silk sheets and all. It had to be special — touching, sweet, loving and most definitely not some lust-fueled spur of the moment thing his dick was pushing for right now. So there wasn’t much he could do, except sit in abject misery and hope to weather through the storm.

Okay, Jason. You survived being blown up by the joker. This is just another challenge. Focus on something else. Jason motivated himself with his voice of reason sounding suspiciously a lot like Nightwing and took a deep breath.

His eyes wandered till they found their way back to Y/N. She was wearing one of her typical sundresses with pastel floral patterns adorning it with a navy blue cardigan draped around her shoulders and the golden necklace resting on her neck. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with loose strands framing her face.

Based on what he had observed she seemed to have a penchant for sundresses, which Jason believed complemented her overall personality quite well. He often found himself mesmerized by the way the sundresses accentuated Y/N's features, the dress hugging her curves perfectly and the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. She almost looked like she had walked out of a cottage fairy tail. I bet I could shred it like tissue paper. Wait what ? Where did that come from ? Okay let’s try again. He turned his focus back to her. Most of her makeup had worn off from the day’s work, except for the eyeliner and the faintly sparkling light pink lip gloss on her lips, which seemed to have been touched up a few times. I wonder what she would look like on her knees, with her lips wrapped around my cock and that pretty mascara running down her cheeks.

Jason shot a glare at his pants. "Can you please shut up for just two goddamn seconds ? I'm trying to be respectful here," he muttered under his breath, hoping for a moment of peace. At this rate he contemplated the need for an exorcist to exorcise these insistent demons out of his system. He glanced up to find Y/N watching him. "Did you say something?" she asked but he simply shook his head in denial. Though she appeared skeptical, she chose not to press further. Moving to the cabinet, she requested, “Could you please grab the glasses? They’re in the third cabinet on the left,” while she fetched plates for serving and set them on the table. Jason obliged, retrieving the glasses, and as he placed them on the table, his hand inadvertently brushed against hers. Y/N glanced at him and flashed a gentle smile.

He could swear he felt his dick twitch. What are you some sort of pitiful depraved virgin ? Get your shit together. This is downright embarrassing. He scoffed at himself. Amid his current inner turmoil, he had become hyper aware of Y/N’s every micro movement from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to adjusting her ponytail or stooping to retrieve a fallen fork. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bend down causing hemline of her dress to lift up, revealing a scene that would surely haunt him on his nights alone. No no no dont even- think of the lord Jason. What would Alfred say ?

Our Father who arth in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.

“Mmmh this is so good !” Y/N moaned in delight as she took the first bite, her eyes widen in amazement, savoring the flavour dancing on their taste buds. Jason felt his throat dry up. Oh of course, she just had to make that sound. The universe was really against him today, more so than usual. With two dicks talking to him, he just had to figure out which one to listen to.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our — wait how did that go again ?

Despite Jason's best efforts to maintain composure, Y/N's every movement seemed to unravel his resolve further. As she savored each bite, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way her lips formed around the fork, her eyes alight with pleasure. With each passing moment, his internal struggle intensified, torn between the desire to avert his gaze and this magnetic force of a woman. Her presence seemed to envelop him, every sound she made echoing in his mind, her every gesture etched into his memory. How could he resist the temptation when she was right there, so effortlessly bewitching ?

Y/N placed her hand on his and he pulled away instinctively, the smile on her face faltered but she didn’t say anything. Jason made a mental note to bash his head into a wall hard later for hurting her feelings but as of now he was in no position of making any sort physical contact with her. “Won’t you be eating ?” she asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I don’t eat before patrol,” he replied, his response came out colder than he had intended it to be. “It’s best to patrol on an empty stomach because it’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his icy response, but she nodded, accepting his explanation. His words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N bit her lip, her gaze flickering between him and the plate of pasta. Feeling a pang of guilt, he tried to ease the atmosphere, though his attempt felt feeble. "But maybe I'll grab something later," he added, a touch of forced warmth in his tone.

“This is really good, you know. You should tell me the recipe sometime,” she suggested. "Nah, I can whip it up for you whenever you want," he replied nonchalantly. Y/N blinked in surprise. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," he insisted, pointing at her necklace. It had been over two months since she started wearing it, and thankfully, she hadn't needed to use its emergency SOS feature. Her thumb traced the disk-shaped pendant of the necklace. “Whatcha smiling about ?” Jason asked. “No nothing,”she replied, shaking her head. Not believing her, Jason tilted his head and urged her to continue. “Fine. So, in this K-drama I watched a while back, the female lead had a powerful mythical creature protecting her like sort of a guardian angel, and she could summon him whenever she lit a match. It just reminded me of that.”

“What creature ?” He asked with intrigue. Jason had always been more inclined to reading rather than watching in nature so he didn’t really have much experience with k-dramas but seeing how interested she was, he was more than willing to give it a go.

“A goblin.”she answered taking another bite of the pasta. “I’m not sure how I ought to take that —” Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation because she knew that goblins in western media were depicted as short ugly green monsters with horrible attitudes. “Oh no no ! Not like the DND ones. Korean ones ! He was really hot,” she clarified frantically. Jason chuckled,“Well then I guess I’ll humbly accept the compliment.”

"Maybe we could watch the show together next time we hang out you know," she suggested shyly, not wanting to appear too upfront with her invitation. A small smile played onto Jason’s lips, every single romance novel he had ever read had prepared him for this moment. He had often wondered what it would feel like to experience such a situation. Sure, they had watched random shows like ‘The real housewives of Beverly Hills’ and ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before, but this invitation felt different, more deliberate. She specifically asked for this. This wasn’t just ‘got nothing to do so let’s just turn on the tv’ kinda hangout, this was special. Jason's heart skipped a beat as he considered her invitation. The subtle nervousness in her voice only added to the charm of the moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to create this perfect opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he replied, his voice betraying a touch of eagerness despite his attempt to appear casual. Deep down, he knew that this was a significant step in their relationship. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m leaving Gotham,” he added with a sad sigh, remembering the reason he had come to see her in the first place.

“What? Why?” His sudden announcement caught Y/N off guard. Did something bad happen ? “Sorry angel, it’s confidential,” he replied briskly. It was in her best interest to keep her as uninvolved in his world as possible, knowing the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with a civilian.

As they sat in uneasy silence, Jason couldn't shake the weight of his own discomfort. He knew he had been too harsh with his response, but the walls he had built around himself were hard to break down, even with someone as kind-hearted as Y/N. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes.

Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she could sense Jason’s reluctance to divulge further. She bit her lip, grappling with a mix of concern and frustration.

“Red did something happen ?” she implored, her voice tinged with worry. “Is it something dangerous? Are you in trouble?”

Jason met her gaze, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness. He hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in her and his commitment to keeping her safe. “It’s just a mission. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much,” he admitted, feeling a sense of regret. “But trust me, it’s better this way. I don’t want you getting mixed up in my business.” Of course it made sense. He didn’t owe her an explanation, knowing there were lines she shouldn’t cross was one of them. This was a world of vigilantes and villains and as a civilian she couldn’t possibly fathom the complexities of his profession.

Y/N reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.“You’ll be back right ?”

“Wouldn’t have given you that necklace if I wasn’t going around for my angel. It might take a couple months, maybe three or four. I don’t know. But I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued,“ And still if you get into trouble, you can still use that necklace. I called in a favour from nightwing and orphan.”

“So what did you ask them to exactly ? They get an alert and they’re to drop everything they’re doing and come save me ?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Well yeah. You get hurt while I’m gone and they’ll end up as fish food in the Gotham Harbour. Y’know they're like my insurance policy for you," he added. "But hopefully, you won't need to cash it in. Just stay safe and out of trouble until I get back."

Y/N nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll do my best. But you know all that aside, cooking a girl dinner and introducing her to your family, and here I thought we were taking it slow.” Jason paused, caught off guard by her comment. Was that how it appeared ? Her playful expression suggested she was merely teasing him, but what if she was genuinely reciprocating flirtation ?

“You’re a really cruel woman you know angel.”Y/N leaned forward on the table and folded her arms infront of her subconsciously pushing her breasts forward, a coy pout forming on her lips ,“Why do you say that ?” She was fully aware of her effect on him, wasn’t she ?

Jason chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and admiration,“No need to worry your pretty head with that.” With a quick flick of his finger, he lightly tapped her forehead, a playful retaliation for her teasing. She let out a surprised yelp, rubbing her forehead in mock indignation.

“I should get going before Starfire and Arsenal lose their shit thinking I’ve gone MIA. Again.” He said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. Y/N too got up and kept the dishes in the sink. Jason turned to leave from the fire exit but he felt Y/N hold his jacket. “Be careful out there Red.” She smiled softly at him and Jason could feel his heart melt into a puddle. “Can’t promise but I will try.” His words came out with softness he didn’t know he possessed, he squeezed her hand gently before reluctantly letting go. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the fire exit.

Outside, Jason took a deep breath, the cool night air soothing his nerves. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows. As he moved through the darkness, he couldn't help but replay their interaction in his mind. Her soft smile, the way she held onto his jacket, and the genuine concern in her voice lingered in his thoughts.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Jason focused on the task at hand. He moved swiftly through the alleyways, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The city whispered its secrets to him, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume it. The weight of his responsibilities as Red Hood pressed upon him, reminding him of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Gotham City.

Yet, in that fleeting moment with Y/N, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a very long time.

A/n: Jason Todd live reaction

Ngl I was in a very silly goofy mood when I wrote this.

Tags : @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03

[lu-vin-it]

Fate

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Summary: Daryl and Y/N are split at the beginning of the apocalypse. When a new group comes to the farm, maybe fate will be on your side.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Pronouns Used: None mentioned

Word Count: 1,903

Warnings: Mention of weed/smoking, i think mention of alcohol too. also minors having sex, not explicit but it is hinted that Daryl hooked up w/ a girl when he was 15

A/N: Ty @stqrluvr for proofreading ily bf!!!

Edit: Hey! After reading the comics I realized that Daryl isn’t in his 30s when the apocalypse started so i changed the years up a bit! for context: Carol is 25 and he’s supposed to be younger than her according to some sources so I went with that.

Aprox. 1999- Daryl and Y/N are 13 and 14 respectively .

“Y/N, this is Daryl. Why don’t y’all two go play up in your room while the grown ups talk?” Your Dad said, a blonde boy who looked about your age stood behind him with his dad and older brother. 

“I have homework, Dadd-“ You stopped when you saw the anger fester on your Dad’s face. “Uh.. we’ll go on a walk.” 

“Alright.. why don’t you go to the gas station..” he reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, handing you a ten dollar bill. “get somethin’ for yourself and your new friend.” You took the money and nodded before closing your notebook and walking past the men. Daryl followed you. 

“Son of bitch treats me like I’m six and not fourteen..” You turned to the boy. “Wanna get some candy?” 

“You buyin’?” You laugh and nod.

“C’mon.” You nod at the direction of the highway. He smiled and followed you. 

Aprox. 2001

“Daryl, wake the fuck up. I’m gonna leave in ten minutes with or without you, you fuckin’ ass.” You yell into your best friend’s room. Sighing, you put your hand against your forehead and walked to the living room. 

“Y/N.. how old are you now?” You look up to see Merle Dixon creepily staring at you. 

“Not old enough… I will never be old enough..” You gag. 

“Well you’re the one who came into my house lookin like that.” He licks his lips. 

“Yeah. I sure did. For Daryl. Go fuck yourself, Merle.” You flip him the bird. 

“Shit, sorry Y/N. I overslept.” You turn around to see Daryl leaving his room shirtless, a girl, who you recognized from school, but not well enough to know the name of, walks out behind him. She stands awkwardly for a moment before waving at you and leaving. 

“And who was that?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Er.. Sandy. I think. I dunno.. I was drunk as shit yesterday.” You laugh to cover up the jealousness you felt.

“Please..” You say, still laughing. “Hurry up and get dressed before I leave you here to go to this lake by myself.” You shake your head and walk out of the house to your car. 

Aprox. 2007

“I don’t get it dude.” You said, shaking your head. Daryl sighs.

“There ain’t nothin’ to get. He’s a cheatin’ asshole who would have done the same thing to anyone.” You glance up at him and wipe the tears off your cheek. 

“Yea.. I guess. I just..” You sigh. “I thought he was the one.. you know?” You scoff at yourself. “Stupid.” 

“It ain’t stupid. He’s stupid.” Daryl flicked the cigarette butt on the ground and smashed it with his heel. “Never liked his sorry ass.” He mumbled. While that was true, he mostly didn’t like him because he was with you.. and that was what Daryl wanted more than anything. 

Aprox. 2009

“Ugh..” You groan. “I hate school, why did I become a teacher?” You hypothetically ask Daryl. He was laughing at you from across the living room. You were grading papers while Daryl was watching a wrestling match on TV. 

“‘Cause you wanted to ‘Make an impact in kids' lives’.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck the kids.” You mumble, glaring at the stack of essays in front of you. “Whose winnin’?” 

“I reckon Randy Orton.. seems most likely.” You nod.

“Yeah..”

August 15th, 2010. 11 Days pre-apocalypse.

“Have fun on the campin’ trip.” You said, switching your phone to your other ear. 

“Yeah.. Merle’s comin’ along so.. I probably won’t.” You frown at your pessimistic best friend.

“Why is that douche comin’? Thought you said he was out on another bender?” You ask, reminding him of the conversation you had the day before.

“He was. Came home last night full o’ beer. He was high as shit too. Guess he just wants to prove he’s more capable than me.” Daryl sighs. “How’s Atlanta? Fuck any politicians yet?” You loudly laugh.

“I hate you, no I have not. But if I do, I’ll call you right after.” You pulled your phone off your ear when you felt it buzz, your Dad was calling you. “My Dad’s callin’. I gotta go, bye Dar.” 

“Stay safe.” With that you end the call and accept your Dad’s.

August 27th, day after the apocalypse began.

“C’mon, you can come to my house.. it’s safe there.” You look at your friend, Maggie, and nod. “We can make signs to leave on the road, that way if your Dad or someone comes looking for you, they can find you.” You smile at her.

“It’s okay. Let’s go.. I guess.” You say monotonous. 

The day Carl gets shot. (Present day.)

“Shit! Whose that?” You exclaim, taking the dish gloves you had on to grab your gun and go to the door. “Someone’s here!” You look at the figure for a moment and realize he was carrying a child. You looked behind him and saw Otis along with another man running behind him. “They’re with Otis!” Hershel walks up to you and looks out the door over your shoulder. Maggie runs up behind y’all with her binoculars.

“Shit the boy is injured!” She yells

“Was he bit?” Hershel asks. The rest of the Greene family poured out the front door. 

“Shot. By your man.” The man, who was wearing a sheriff’s uniform, said. 

“Otis?” Patricia wondered aloud. 

“He said to find Hershel, is that you?” He sobbed. “Help me, help my boy.” 

“Get him inside!” Hershel hurries into the house, the entire household is on high alert. “Patricia get my whole kit.” He folds his sleeves up. “Maggie, painkillers— Coagulates— grab everything!”

“Okay!” 

“Y/N, clean towels, sheets, alcohol!” You run off to get everything Hershel asked. You grabbed everything faster than you knew you could run. 

“Here!” 

“Pillowcase!” 

“I-Is he alive?” 

“Pillowcase quick!” You take one off of one of the many pillows and hand it to him.

“Fold it! Quickly! Make it into a pad!” He grabs Rick’s hands and places them onto the makeshift pad. “Put pressure on it.” He puts his stethoscope on and listens around the boy’s chest. “I've got a heartbeat… it’s faint.” The man shakes. 

“I’ve got it— step back!” Patricia says, pushing back the stranger. 

“Maggie, IV.” 

“We need some space.” Maggie yells, pushing him back more. 

“Y/N, take him outside.” You nod and grab his hand, dragging him back out to the porch. 

“W-Wait no— My boy h-he.. I can’t leave Carl, what're you doing?” 

“What’s your name?” 

“R-Rick.” You nod.

“I’m Y/N. They need their space in the room right now. Let’s stay out here and talk.” Rick looked at you like you were crazy but nodded. “Okay. Good. Uhh.. where were you before what happened?” 

“Um. Uh. T-The highway. With my group.” 

“Oh you’ve got a group! That’s awesome. How many people are in your group?” 

“T-Ten. M-My best friend Shane he’ll be here with uh… with Otis any second now.” You nodded. 

“That’s nice that you have a best friend in your group. Who else are you close to in the group?” 

“M-My wife.. Lori.. s-she oughta be here..” He sobs, putting his face in his hands. 

“Run!” Your neck snaps to the field. Otis and another man were running.

“Stay here, what’s your friend’s name?” 

“Shane.” You nod and run to the men. 

“Shane, you go to Rick. I’ll stay with Otis and help him get to the house.” You say to the black haired man. He nodded and ran quicker. You jogged past him to Otis. You wrapped your arm around him and hauled him back to the house. 

Later that day, Otis and Shane left to get medical supplies for Carl while Maggie took the horse and went after Rick’s wife, Lori. A man called Glenn followed shortly after Lori’s arrival, he had T-Dog with him who was injured. Maggie seemed smitten with Glenn. He told you all that the rest of the group would be there the next day.

Shane came back that night with a heavy heart. Otis sacrificed himself for him. The night was full of grief.

The next morning, you woke up late. Everyone was outside helping the rest of the group settle in. You met Carol first, you told her you were sorry about her daughter and that you would help however you could. She thanked you and you helped her set up her things. You met Andrea next, she was a little more standoffish but you didn’t mind. 

After meeting Andrea, you retreated into the house, deciding to start on lunch. It wasn’t much, but you were able to make salads with the crops on the farm. Carol came to help you after a while.

“So.. how are you related to the Greenes?” 

“Oh I’m not. Maggie and I knew each other before the spread. We were hangin’ out when everythin’ went to shit and I couldn’t get back to my Dad.” 

“I’m sorry about your Dad.” You shook your head.

“S’fine, didn’t like him that much. Mostly my best friend that I miss. I don’t know if he made it out.” You snort. “Probably did though.. he and his brother were out hunting when everythin’ happened.” She nods.

“Maybe you’ll find him soon.” You smile.

“I hope so. I hope he’s alive when I do.” 

Carol went out to get everyone after you guys were done. It took about ten minutes before everyone 

came into the dining room. There wasn’t enough room for everyone at the table, so some stayed standing. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Andrea asked before shoving a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. Your mouth went dry. 

“He’s comin’, he was getting stuff ready to go after Sofia.” Rick replied. Your heart was beating out of your chest. 

“N/N? You okay?” Beth pondered when she saw the look on your face. You nodded and walked out of the dining room and then out of the house. You looked around before you saw him. It was Daryl fucking Dixon. 

“Dixon!” You yelled, running down the steps and to him.

“Y/N?” He stopped in shock. 

“Holy shit!” You jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him. 

“W-What’re you doin’ here?” He pulled you off of him and held your face in his hands. You were crying at this point.

“Maggie, she was my teacher’s assistant and when the infection started she took me here.” You stared at him. “I’m so happy you’re here Daryl.. I was so worried that you did—“ You were cut off when Daryl leaned forward and kissed you. Of course, you kissed him back, you had been wanting this since you were 18. When you broke apart you smiled. “I love you.” You admitted. He grins and kisses you again, you knew that that meant he loved you back. 

“I’m so glad I found you.” He leaned his forehead against yours and smiled. 

“What just happened..” You turn around to see everyone on the porch, Glenn’s head was tilted and he stared in confusion.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ☻︎ꨄ