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iarchmybaculaa · 3 days

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Pairing: Ex! Jungkook x reader

Warnings: Jungkook is subjectively a little toxic, Mentions of an ongoing divorce, possessive! Jungkook, Girl Dad! Jungkook, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), oral sex (f receiving), Slight brat reader, Jeon Jungkook is a menace, reader is implied to be black

Word count: 5.2 k (I think)

🎧: Woo- Rihanna

For: @hobicakess and Paige💗

Jungkook is good at a lot of things

Hes a fantastic singer. He dances very well (even if he likes to fein shyness at parties). Jungkook can cook, he can multitask seamlessly and (almost) effortlessly, and he can put Jinhae to sleep in a matter of minutes… It would be much easier to list the things that Jungkook isn't good at.

Jungkook isn't very good at sharing.

He doesn't like sharing food, clothes or people.

You think it may be his biggest if not only flaw.

Jungkook considers the people in his life his. He doesn't expect them to have the same importance in someone else's life, as they do in his. And he doesn't expect them to think of other people the way they do of him, either.

You don't know if it's because he fears that he'll be replaced, or because he was raised as an only child. But whatever it was, Jungkook let it consume him. Holistically.

You remember how he had reacted when Yoongi- his mentor,had taken on a new intern. Jungkook and Yoongi had attended the same highschool within a few years of each other; and had met again when Yoongi was a TA at SNU. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing, as less of a student, and more like a little brother; and their bond lasted way beyond college. Yoongi was so proud of Jungkook that he was practically All he spoke about. Jungkook had gotten used to things being that way.

Then one day, all of a sudden, Yoongi was no longer “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook”; he was all “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin” much to the Younger's chagrin.

To his credit, Jungkook was nothing but nice to Jimin during the time he worked for Yoongi. He bought him coffee once in a while and even invited him out for drinks whenever the opportunity arose. Jimin was cool. Jungkook would even go as far as to say that Jimin was his friend. Jungkook barely knew the guy! He had nothing against him.

It was Yoongi he was pissed at.

Yoongi was the one who owed Jungkook his loyalty. Yoongi was the one who had nursed Jungkook through his first hangover, and held him when he cried about failing a class. Yoongi was there when Jungkook got his first, off campus apartment. Yoongi was Jungkook 's Yoongi.

At first, Yoongi didn't understand it. It made no sense that Jungkook seemed so fond of Jimin, yet he soured whenever the latter's name was mentioned. It gave him whiplash. It went on for a solid month and a half of Jungkook's scowls and petulant pouts for Yoongi to finally realize that something was deeply wrong, and that he needed to get to the bottom of it.

It took 2 bottles of soju and 3 glasses of whiskey for Jungkook to crack. His reasoning was so funny that Yoongi almost didn't feel bad for laughing at him. All it took to pacify Jungkook was for Yoongi to give him a hug, followed by a quick

“you'll always be hyung's favourite, Kook-ah.” as he ruffled his hair.

Jungkook was only 22 when that had happened. And he'd like to believe he's grown a lot since then.

He's advanced enough in his career that he's not Mr. Bang's payroll anymore, but rather pays him. Jungkook has grown in a literal sense too, having had a growth spurt one random day after he turned 23 (there was no containing him once he realized that he was 6 feet tall) .

Jungkook has (helped) create life; your daughter Jinhae. It's the thing he's proudest of, second only to marrying you.

But Jungkook is only human.

So it's only natural that he feels an itch rise on the back of his neck everytime he picks Jinhae up from your apartment, and all she can talk about is your new boyfriend.

He got so…irritated the more Jinhae babbled on about “Woo- Woo” that he felt a little silly. But who could blame him? He would be holding Jinhae 's hand as they walked through the park for their daddy daughter time, and every other sentence would be about this ‘’Woo Woo”.

Seokjin had once joked that she had switched from being 'Daddy's girl' to 'Woo-Woo’s girl' , and Jungkook 's body took a screenshot. He shot Jin a look so vile, that the older stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

Jungkook really had tried to ignore it as best as possible. And he (thought) he was doing fairly well until that evening, when Jinhae had let it slip that:

‘’Mama kissed Woo-Woo today.”

He had just picked her up from her taekwondo class, and was about to pull out of the parking lot when Jinhae gave him the oh so lovely news.

Jungkook isn't a monster, he thinks he's let this little charade go on for much longer than was respectable. He wasn't going to let that slide.

He took a sharp left and sped down the highway. If he wasn't so caught up in his head, he would've heard Jinhae 's excited scream of:

“YAY! we're going to Uncle Yoonie's house’

You had just finished taking a long, warm bath. Your feet had been aching, and your back felt worse than it did before you had gotten your epidural. You needed a break; desperately.

The silence in the apartment was a welcome change.

You loved Jinhae with all your heart, but children were tiring to deal with alone. Children could be incredibly difficult, just for the fun of it. Especially spoilt, almost-five year olds who are used to their daddy obeying their every beck and call.

God forbid you didn't do “ the voice” right, after reading “The little Prince” five times in a row! suddenly you were public enemy number one.

At least you could bask in the fact that Jinhae never threw (noisy) tantrums or threw things, but you felt that she had quadruple the attitude your hus- ex, accused you of having.

But tonight, the only attitude you have to worry about dealing with, was from Kim when you researched the earliest seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. What can you say? There's truly nothing funnier to you than upper class white women trying to be relatable. To this dat, their target audience was a mystery to you. You can't think of a single person whose biggest problem was how many times their name got googled in a day. You find it hard to take anything they ‘’go through' seriously, because if we're being honest, people really are dying Kim!

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white robe.

You reach for the the lilac, silk pajama set laid out on your bed. You had bought it from an online lingerie store, after a few glasses of wine a few weeks ago. You had been so…bored that you did the most exciting thing your numb brain could come up with in that moment.

You scoff at your past self. It was more cute than anything, not nearly as scandalous as some of the items you have hidden in the back of your closest. But you're not complaining.

The shorts are a bit shorter than you expected, but the silk is soft a high quality, and the lace that lines the top isn't itchy at all. You untwist your bun, and your braids cascade down your shoulders. You grab the bottle of black castor oil from your dresser, and run the nozzle along the parts. You sigh as you reach up to massage your scalp.

It's in little moments like these that you miss Jungkook the most. You hate to admit, but you used to be just as spoilt as Jinhae. Jungkook used to pamper you in every way possible. He would oil your scalp for you, order your hair products months in advance so that you'd never run out, and give you massages whenever your shoulders stood too rigid.

But you didn't have Jungkook anymore. You suck your teeth in annoyance at yourself for thinking about him so much.

You had just finished applying your vitamin c serum to your face, when you heard an incessant pounding on your door. You pause your music just as Kali Uchis asks if she can get a kiss. You're confused as to why someone is knocking on your door, when you have a very obvious doorbell attached to the frame. It's even stranger given what time it is.

You slip your feet into your cow print night slippers, as you step off the plush rug that lay on the floor in front of your vanity; and unto the floor.

The slippers slap against the floor as you walk towards the living room, and to whoever the hell wouldn't stop pounding on your door at 9pm on a Friday.

You throw the door open, ready to demand an explanation when you stop dead in your tracks.

To say you're surprised at who is standing at your door would be an understatement. You're not sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Jungkook. You're even more surprised to see him without Jinhae in tow.

You don't think that you've been alone with Jungkook for more than a few minutes at a time since the divorce; and even so, Jinhae has always been just a few feet away.

You feel worry start to settle in your stomach.

“Where's JJ? Is she okay?” You ask, praying that what came out of his mouth next isn't bad news.

He chuckes. It's a sound that comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates across the empty hallway. It's an empty laugh, with no humour behind it. It makes a chill run up and down your spine.

“Jinie is fine. She's with Yoongi; and she's the last of your worries right now” he says.

For once, Jungkook hasn't cracked a single smile the entire time he's been in your presence. It's obvious that he's mad, but you're not sure at what. You're not sure that you vare.

He isn't wearing a suit right now, and you can't recall the last time you'd seen him in anything but.

Jungkook worked extraordinarily long hours. You knew that working late and being burnt out would be a part of his life, especially the more his business grew, but it hadn't phased you at the time. There was nothing to be phased about.

At the time, Jungkook always put you first. And when Jinhae was born, he did the same thing. There was never a time where he had left you to fend for yourself with a newborn. He had been there through it all. From colic, to 3 am feedings to explosive diaper changes. He had never let you feel alone as a parent, or in your marriage.

Until around 8 months ago that is.

8 months ago, you feel like Jungkook had just stopped trying.

You know for a fact that Jungkook is terrified of being poor. It's why he always has another merger to make with one of his three companies, and dips his toes into every industry imaginable. His influence spanned over tech, real estate and even clothing. You think Jungkook's fear is understandable, you don't think it's fair. It was teetering on the edge of paranoia and greed.

He was trying so bad to make sure that he could take care of his family, that he wasnt.

He would get home from work after Jinhae went to bed, and left before she got ready for school. You had spent one too many nights falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home; only to wake up in your bed the next morning with a handwritten note on your bathroom mirror. They were sweet and all..but not much more.

As much as you appreciated the affirmations, his words meant nothing when there was no action behind them. Promises to come home home early the, family outings that never happened… You felt like you were a kid whose love was expected to be bought with money, and placated with empty commitments all over again. You could count on a bouquet of roses being delivered at your door every morning, more than you could count on your own husband being there.

You hated it.

You were starting to hate him.

It had gotten to a point where Jungkook had just given his secretary reign over his personal phone. You almost lost your mind when you had called him to ask what he wanted for dinner once, and she answered and told you that he was busy.

You could hear Jungkook 's laughter in the background, and the noise was not a professional setting. In fact, it sounded a lot more intimate and cozy. Like a restaurant or small bar. You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't even get the chance to talk to Jungkook about it, because you barely saw him.

The look on his face when you served him the divorce papers in person at his office was borderline comical. His eyes had widened so far out of their sockets, that you thought the expression was causing him physical pain. You had said nothing. You simply handed him the papers and stayed long enough for him to read the heading. He clearly wanted to communicate through words on paper, so who were you to not oblige him with some?

As far as you know, Jungkook had never signed the papers, but he did follow all the other conditions you had outlined in your petition for separation.

He got an apartment for you and Jinhae in a building he didn't own, and was never late for any pickups or dropoffs, save for once when he had the flu.

A part of you had forgotten how young Jungkook was.

The suits he wore aged him plenty. Not in an old, haggard way, but in a way that made him appear more refined and serious than he actually was. His hair was always cut short and clicked away from his face. The collars of his shirts were always ironed to sharpness. Hell, he even wore sensible shoes.

If you hadn't seen every inch of Jungkook 's body before, and gone to college with him…You would have pegged him for an uptight dogooder. You're sure it helped him get taken seriously in the corporate world, but overtime, it was as if Jungkook had forgotten his roots. As if he had morphed into a no nonsense, mormon-esque version of himself.

But the Jungkook standing before you now, is the Jungkook you know and lov- respected. Jungkook who proudly wore his colorful sleeve of tattoos,silver hoops through his lips and a stud in his nose. The Jungkook who liked to wear cargo pants and oversized shirts with stomper boots he could barely walk straight in.

You knew he had showered before he had come over, because his hair was still curly. He hadn't blow-dried it. His hair is much longer than it was when you had last saw him. It fell past his eyes now. He had started growing it out sgain because Jinhae told him she wanted to. At least, that's what he had told you.

What had really happened was that Jinhae had been asking a lot of questions about “ when appa wasn't so old” one Saturday when they had gone out for ice cream.

“Appa, Mommy says your hair used to be w-eally long and pwetty. Can it come back? Mommy misses it.”

Jungkook hadn't cut his hair again since.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asks, one eyebrow raised at you.

You fold your arms across your chest.

“I'm not sure why I should. Besides, I don't think that this is a good time.”

“Oh? Why's that? You lip expecting someone else,princess?’ He takes in your attire from head to toe. His eyes linger for a little too long in your chest. His voice goes deeper as he struggles to finish his last question.

You don't answer, and it makes his eye twitch.

It's so ridiculous, yet so on brand of him to create a hypothetical scenario in his head and get all eaten up about it. He takes a deep breath.

He doesn't want to blow his fuse. Not here, Not yet.

“ I need to talk to you. Inside. Please.” He asks, but it's not really a request.

You roll your eyes and turn your back to him as you walk away.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your ass jiggle in the tiny shorts. He enters behind you, and the door closes softly with a click.

You walk over to the fridge and grab the unfinished can of Arizona Iced tea, and a glass from the cupboard. You were looking forward to having a glass of wine tonight, but if you were going to talk to Jungkook… you needed to be stone cold sober.

“You want anything?” You ask, as you pour the content into the glass. “ I think I have some b-”

“What I want is answers.” He says simply, leaning in the arched entryway.

You look at him with confusion written all over your face, before your pettiness takes over.

“ Oh yeah? Well I wanted signed divorce papers, and yet here we are.”

You take a swig from your cup and let the sweetness of the drink coat your tongue.

You see Jungkook release a breath so deep that his entire body shakes.

“ Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says with his arms crossed against his chest. “Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

You're getting irritated now, because for one, what the hell is he talking about, and two…Who was Jungkook to talk to you like that?

“Jungkook. First of all, she's our kid. And secondly, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. And even if I did… I wouldn't tell you jack shit. What or who I do is none of your business.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the threshold and starts walking towards you. His steps are slow and strong. His strides are long,and he has your back pressed into the counter in a matter of seconds.

You haven't been so close to Jungkook in so long, that everything about him overwhelms you in the best way possible. He smells so, so good. He smells like sandalwood and warm vanilla. He smells like home. His proximity to you is dizzying, and you can only pray that you'll keep it together.

He puts his arm on one side of you, leaving your left completely open. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. You stayed in place. It tells him everything he needs to know.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind Y/N?” He questions. He reaches for your left hand and your heart sinks down to your ass. The diamond of your wedding ring glitters under the lights hanging from the the ceiling. The princess cut stone is practically mocking you.

“What do you think I gave you this ring for huh? Fun? Fucking decoration?” He jests, “You know, for someone who never shuts her big mouth up about divorce, you sure keep this on don't you baby?”

You don't deny it. There's no point in doing so. You know that if you do, he'll lift the ring upwards. And you know that when he does, he'll find the unmistakable circle of a tan line wrapping around your ring finger.

He strokes his thumb against your cheek, and you almost preen at his touch. “Who's ‘Woo- Woo’ baby?”

“None of your business.” You bite out.

“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, that you are my business?!”

He runs his hand through his long hair, and you can see his face so much better. He's as beautiful as you remember and he's right in front of you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but you do know how soft lips feel as they press against yours. You fell the metal of his lip piercings touch the roof of your mouth as you suck his lip into you mouth.

He puts his hand under your ass, and your legs wrap around him on instinct. He lifts you and bring you over to the cool marble of the kitchen island.

His hand tugs on the hem of your blouse, and you pull away from him.

“Kook, we can't.” You whine as you pull away.

Jungkook uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit from the corner of your mouth, and fixes your shirt so your boob is no longer at risk of spilling out.

“Okay baby, we'll stop and we can talk over dinner. Do you want me to make something or do you want to get takeout?” He asked as he pulls away from you.

He doesn't get very far, because you wrap your legs around him, and pull you back to him.

“Wait- I didn't really mean that.” You whisper. Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion that you weren't just talking about telling him no.

“You want me baby?”

You nod your head yes, too embarrassed to open your mouth lest your voice shake.

He cradles your face, and tilts it upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You answer affirmatively, reaching forwards to capture his lips again.

Youre not even thinking about the Pandora's box that you might be opening; and quite frankly? You don't care.

You're acutely aware that you wont be able to blame your decision on being drunk or tipsy. The only thing driving you was a burning need to have Jungkook deep inside you (where he belonged).

He litters kisses along your neck as he slides his hand down your shorts. Your hips buck forward on instinct, and you shudder as you feel his fingers ghost your clit.

“Why are you naked under here?” He growls out. grip tightening around you waist. “I'm starting to think that you were expecting someone tonight.” he muses.

He spreads your folds with two fingers, reveling in the way your arousal leaks out of you and unto his fingers.

“ Is that why you're so eager, baby? Hm? Is that why you're so wet? You decided that you were gonna get fucked one way or another? Is that it?”

He asks each question as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It shallow. He doesn't allow you the pleasure of going further than his first knuckle. You try to grind down on his digits, but he holds your hips down with his free hand.

“Whoever you've been giving my pussy away to, hasn't been doing a very good job... have they?” He groans as you clench around him.

“Jungkook please. I want-”

“Shh baby, I know. I'll give it to you I promise. Just give me one first” he begs as he speeds up his circles on your clit.

He sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, and you cum almost instantly. Your body shakes and you wrap your arms around his neck as your pussy convulses around his fingers.

You barely have time to recover before he's pulling your shorts down, and cleaning up the mess you made. He catches the slick of you orgasm on your tongue just as it starts running down your leg.

He goes at your pussy like a man starved. You cry out the moment his tongue enters you. You ride his tongue with vigor, gripping unto the counter for stability.

Jungkook pulls away from you for moment. His mouth is shiny from your juices, and his eyes are already so blown out that you want to fuck him even more.

He guides your hand to his hair, and encourages you to grab the tendrils.

“Use me, baby” he instructs.

His voice is so gravelly and raw, that you can do nothing but oblige him.

You grip the roots of his hair and push his head back between your legs. You both moan when he starts lapping at you again. You hold his head in place, guiding him where you want him; where you need him.

The second time you cum, your legs closed so tight around his head that Jungkook thought he had died and went straight to heaven.

You pull him away from your core by his hair, and bring him up to your face. You clean his face with your own tongue, and lean in to kiss him so you both taste like you. Your chests are still heaving when Jungkook carries you to your room.

He lays you gently on the bed, and takes his shirt off at the same time you toss your blouse over your head. He's about to undo the strings of his sweatpants when he stops cold in his tracks..

“ Shit, baby…I don't have any condoms. I didn't plan on this-”

“ It's okay,” You reassure him “ I'm clean. Are you?”

Jungkook looks a little scandalized. “Of course I'm clean, I haven't - I havent been with anyone except you since before we started dating.” His honesty shines so brightly in his eyes that you almost want to pull him into a hug.

You release a shaky, nervous breath you didn't know you had been holding.

“ Good. I want to feel you, all of you.”

The bed sinks as Jungkook climbs over you, one leg on each side of your body.

You've missed this view. Him on top of you, chain swining in your face, and big doe eyes filled with lust for you and only you.

He takes a hairtye from around his wrists, and pulls his hair into a low manbun. His cock is already painfully hard, red and leaking from the tip.

You spread your legs as Jungkook nestkes in-between them. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to your calf.

He rubs himself between your folds, mesmerized by how quickly your wetness coats him.

He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses.

“Are you sure you're ready baby? I don't want to hurt you.”

“ Is that it? Or are you scared that you don't hold a candle to ‘Woo-Woo’ my” you jest. Jungkook doesn't find it very funny.

He pushes himself into you, but as wet as you are, you're still so, so tight. Your pussy is so warm…hot even, that Jungkook almost cums the moment yes fully sheathed in you.

You're just as tight as he remembers, tighter even.

You both moan when he delivers his first thrust. You haven't had dick in so long,that you'd forgot what it felt like. How it felt like to have your walls stretched and your g spot caressed, how delicious and heavy the drag was inside you. How good Jungkook was at this. You feel so good that Jungkook practically forgets that he's supposed to be mad at you.

“You know you belong to me right?” Jungkook demands as he thrusts into you, slow and forceful. You don't answer and turn your face away from him He wraps his hand around your throat as speed up.

“Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!”

His thrusts become faster, punishing. He practically ploughs you into the mattress as whatever restraint he had before vanishes into thin air. You scream the more intense the pleasure gets.

“ I should fuck another baby into you, you know that? Hm? Should swell your tummy up with another one of my kids, so you have nine months to think about why the fuck you would do something as stupid as try to leave me.”

He finds your gspot as effortlessly as he usually does, and he hits it over and over and over again.

“Jungkook PLEASE” you cry. You reach your hand out to push against the hardness of his abdomen. He takes your hand and kisses it. You're so close. So fucking close, and Jungkook can tell.

“You want to cum, don't you baby?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy is practically raw from overstimulation, and you feel so much pressure building inside you that you don't know whether you want to run away from the pleasure or dive headfirst into it.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I need to please.”

“Then tell me. Fucking tell me you're mine”

“Fuck, I'm yours, Jungkook! Please!” you cry.

“ How many people have you fucked since you left? Answer me!” He commands you, adding a finger to your clit to the mix.

“Nobody, no one, Jungkook Please!”

“ I know baby, I just needed you to admit it.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. He gives you two more delicious thrusts that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Your lurches forward as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls convulse around him, squeezing him so tight that Jungkook feels a bit dizzy.

“Baby,” he whines “unwrap your legs so I can pull out.” He gasps when your legs only wrap tighter around him. “Baby, I have to-”

“N-no,” you protest “ I want it inside Jungkook please.”

He cums so forcefully that his orgasm leaves him winded and his arms almost give out. He spils his seed into you, and you feel the warmth of it coat your walls.

He pulls out of you as he begins to soften, and collapse beside you as he tries to catch his breath. You both turn to look at each other, and Jungkook offers you a soft smile.

He notices the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, and turns his head to switch your fan on.

That's when you see it. Your eyes bug out of their sockets.

“Jungkook, what the hell is that on your neck?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“Right there,” you turn his head to the right to get a better look. Your heart starts thumming uncontrollably in your chest. Because there it was, your name in bold black letters for everyone to see.

“Jungkook…When did you get that?”

“Hm…about five months ago?” he chuckles. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Jungkook!” You say as you slap his chest “ We weren't even together!”

“ Correction, we are together, we just have separate living arrangements.”

You look at him incredulously.

“You're crazy, you know that?’

“About you? Yeah..Real crazy baby” he flirts “Hey, you never told me woo this ‘Woo-Woo’ guy is anyways .”

You roll you eyes at him as you climb of the bed.

“I can't tell you who he's not. He's not the one whose cum is dripping out of me right now. Are you gonna join me on the shower or what?”

Fin.

#bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x black reader #dad jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x black oc #jungkook x you #author is tyyyaddd

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pedgito · 2 days

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𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

content warning | no outbreak!joel, f!reader that is mentioned to have hair that can be pushed back but no exact length, descriptions of outfits, lots of w*ed smoking/consuming ed*bles, a quick mention of a burn, joel being a good neighbor, he's still the biggest girl dad, age gap implied but readers isn't specified, joel's not afraid to go for what he wants, most of the interactions happen while they're high so please keep that in mind when reading, lotsa boob worship, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, mentions of joel being sterile, strangers to friends to lovers. this was written over the course of a weekend don't look at me

word count — 8k

The first and only time you see him is when you’re moving in next door, trudging in the moving boxes on your own as he seems to ready up his own truck full of boxes, followed by two younger women who seem to be bickering at him and he bypasses them with a smug smile on his face—he’s older, so you came to your own assumption that it was probably his daughters.

That’s all you know about him.

Outside of the fact he drives a truck, works long hours, and that his name is Joel.

The girl with the begrudging smile and worn out converse called his name while you were throwing away your trash and trying to not seem like the nosey neighbor.

He comes, he goes. The roar of his truck is all you hear and you never really see him outside of an occasional swish of his curtains through your own windows, but occasionally you leave your trash can out by the curb longer than necessary and it magically appears at the beginning of your driveway.

Now, you don’t want to point fingers—but the only ones tucked away are his and your own, leaving the other neighbors to fend for themselves.

It’s a simple gesture, kind.

You want to thank him but you never get the chance.

You’re curious if he’s a night owl—lights staying on even into the early hours of the morning, shadows crossing around his living room that you can see from your bedroom window, tossing and turning most nights as you struggle and struggle to fall asleep.

You’ve learned methods to help, plenty—if you ever remember to charge your vibrator it was usually your first choice, a quick release of some of the built up tension over the day and you could eventually find it easier to fall asleep. But, your tried and true method was weed.

That was it. Sometimes you didn’t even need much—an edible to curb the anxiety that filled you, a puff or two at the pen you had stashed away in your bedside drawer, but most of the time it was occupying your mind with the work of rolling the joint before smoking it out your bedroom window that helped the best.

However, tonight was different.

You toss and turn and fling the blankets away that stick to your skin, the broken ceiling fan doing nothing to quell that muggy heat that was permeating in your house from earlier in the day—it just sat frozen, menacing and taunting at you. You search through the drawer at your bedside for the small tin case covered in stickers of various interests and things you enjoyed, kicking the sliding backdoor with your foot as you traveled through the living room to your kitchen and stepping out onto your back deck.

It’s still hot, but the breeze allows a noticeable difference.

You work quietly, hunched slightly over the railing and using the faint glow of the light hanging beside your backdoor, just finishing up rolling the joint as you bring it to your tongue and the distinct creak from the house next to you grabs your attention—the sliding door mimicking your own.

Your heart races and you don’t know why. It could be one of the girls, still strangers but somehow you find it easier to look that way if it was them—Joel was intimidating, the aura he carried within just a few seconds of a glance.

It is him, unfortunately—and suddenly you feel the need to hide your stash, tossing the tin box in the cheap plastic chair you bought when you first moved in. Tucking yourself away as you light the joint and bring it to your lips.

He’s being surprisingly noisy, chair scuffing the deck as he moves it around and you look at him curiously from across the way, a fence and several feet of grass dividing you both. You can see the mug clutched in his right hand and his left hand filled with a few various things. A phone, for sure—lighting up in his hand before he lays it on the table beside him, lifting a leg over the lounge chair in a straddle-like motion before he sits down.

And he does seem like a smoker, not that you have proof or theory—it was just the vibe, but as he lights the item in his hand and takes a slow drag you quickly realize there's not an ounce of nicotine in sight. It’s clear when he catches your gaze and his brow furrows slightly, noting the similar item tucked between your own fingers and you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

You don’t say a word. Neither does he. But, he does offer a weak smile when you grab the tin box from the chair, nodding in acknowledgement. Your entire body flutters to life for some weird reason that you will absolutely blame on the THC obscuring rational thought.

Thankfully, sleep comes easy after that.

–

But, it doesn’t stay that way.

Most of the time you stay tucked inside, especially on the days and nights when the heat wasn’t as ablaze as usual, but there is usually a day or two out of the week where you find yourself outside—sometimes you lounge, or pace, but it never fails that the moment you step foot outside your backdoor, Joel does too.

Once a week, rarely twice—though it does happen, both of you find yourself in quiet submission as you smoke and enjoy the peace, even with the constant click of crickets and lighting bugs that seem attracted to both of your houses, flying around your backyard in a small swarm.

And you wanted to keep your distance, not wanting to impose on his space but your two months into these unspoken nightly meetings when your cheap lighter finally decides to shit itself, offering nothing but dull sparks against your overworked thumb, trying and failing to light the end of the joint.

Joel had been watching, an amused smile growing on his face as you cursed and tossed the lighter into your yard out of frustration—you’d grab it later, whatever. Eventually you sigh, giving up on it for the night and turning to pack away your stuff before Joel is calling over to you from his side of the fence, heart dropping into your stomach at the sound of his voice.

“I got a light,” He offers, “if you’re interested?”

It’s definitely a question. A proposition. An offering.

You scratch at your brow and hesitate for a millisecond, not giving yourself enough time to debate your answer before you’re mumbling “Fuck it,” and taking the path down the steps and to the gate that separated your yards, watching as he stepped toward you all in the same breath, feeling so much more intimidating this close—the smell of him, musky and sweet. His hair was wet, too.

He took a shower, got dressed, and immediately decided to step back out into the humid heat of Texas summer.

You pluck the lighter from his grip with a soft tug, flicking open the top. It was a good lighter, not the crappy three-pack you bought at the gas station down the road—it was chrome, engraved with a JM, and soft to the touch. You admire it for half a second before you attempt to light the end of your joint, still tucked between your lips.

But, as fate would have it, you make a fool of yourself. It wasn’t that you couldn’t get it lit, but that the wind was being your worst enemy in a situation where you just wanted to smoke the goddamn joint and go to bed.

Joel puffs at the joint between his lips and breathes out the smoke through his nose before he huffs out a low laugh and nods in your direction, reaching his arms over the fence and beckoning with his fingers for you to hand the lighter back over. You nearly go cross-eyed as his hands come toward your face—much larger than your own and far better at keeping the flame strong, he peeks around his cupped palm and waits for the end to turn a bright orange before he pulls away and you eagerly pull the smoke into your lungs.

“Thank you,” You tell him, rubbing your bare feet into the grass beneath you, patchy and poorly cut from your own mow job, but you were working the best with what you had—even if it was an ancient lawn mower you snagged at a garage sale that only worked half of the time.

You didn’t like to ask for help, hated it. But, here you were, taking help from a stranger.

Well, neighbor.

It didn’t feel fair to call him a stranger anymore, even if you’ve only spoken a little under ten words to him.

“No problem, sugar,” Joel responds and your cheeks burn with heat, that distinct nervousness spreading throughout your body that couldn’t be mistaken with anything else, “curious, though—you ain’t ever thought about investin' in a good lighter?”

You shrug, tapping away the ash gently with your fingertip and taking another puff, “Why? My neighbor’s got a perfectly good one himself?”

Joel raises his brows in unison and smiles slightly, he laughs. It’s more of a lazy chuckle.

“I… have more. I just lose them a lot. Besides, they’re only like ten bucks a pack.”

You’re waiting for him to cut the conversation short and walk back to his chair, but he finds himself leaning, arms tucked and crossed over the fence, oblivious to how daunting this felt to you—the man you’ve been so helplessly curious about for months suddenly standing in front of you and interested, unbothered…not at all what you expected from him.

“Thanks for constantly moving my trash bins,” You tell him randomly, blowing the smoke out through your lips as you tilt your chin up, “I always forget.”

Joel makes a face, wordlessly offering an “I know,” with his eyes and you roll yours in return, following it with a laugh as you pop a hip out slightly, leaning most of your weight onto one leg and crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly remembering how bare you were under your thin top, assuming you’ve probably already given him quite the show already.

Though, Joel seems like the type of man to be nice enough not to point it out.

You perk up suddenly, asking the first thing that comes to mind.

"Can I ask a question?"

Joel nods.

“What’s the JM stand for? On your lighter.”

“Sweetheart,” The laugh shakes his entire chest, “come on now.”

From sugar to sweetheart—you were clearly making quite the impression on him.

When you don’t respond he answers your question.

“Joel. Miller. I figured that was obvious,” He says, stubbing out the end of his joint into the wood on his side of the fence.

“Oh.”

“It’s on the mailbox.”

Curious, you leave him for a brief moment to slip through the side gate of your yard and….yeah, sure enough.

“I swear I’m not always like this,” You tell him as you make your way back over, forcing away the smile that was creeping its way onto your face.

“Too bad,” He responds, carding fingers through his still slightly damp hair before running his open palm over his beard, scratching at his chin, “s’pretty entertaining.”

“O-kay,” You answer, sarcasm smothering your tone, “I think it’s my bedtime, Joel Miller.”

“Goodnight then,” He bows his head slightly, “neighbor.”

The tone of it makes you snort with a soft laugh, flipping him off as you depart.

Suddenly, Joel Miller doesn’t seem all that scary.

–

The next week is suspiciously quiet, to your surprise. You’ve opted out of keeping yourself inside now that you had a friend to keep you company, but when he doesn’t show up after a few minutes, you can’t explain why you feel disappointed.

Next week is the same, his house suspiciously dark.

You can’t pass judgment—he could be busy, tired, or there could be no reason at all.

But, the need in you is there—for what, you’re not even sure.

By the third week you’re ready with a peace offering, a truce.

That night his lights are on and he’s even moving around, somewhere in his kitchen you’re assuming, but instead of sneaking out into the backyard you’re crossing over your front lawn and into his, seemingly fresh mowed and smelling of wet grass, having been under mostly rain showers all night and you knock at his door.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the door opens and you smile at the sight of him, sleep pants hanging low on his hips and his shirt slightly raised by his stomach. He looks exhausted, eyes puffy with sleep as he rubs at them with his knuckles, but he doesn’t look displeased at the sight of you—in fact, he almost smiles in response.

One rolled joint in your left hand, a second in your right. It’s a wordless gesture that makes Joel scoff in amusement and nod you inside of his home. His home. That you’ve never seen until now. You were in his house and it was the most casual thing in the world. You don’t linger for long, following him toward the sliding door to his backyard but the place feels…homey. Lived in. So much unlike your own and disorganized in a way that showed years of age and memories, pictures scattered along the walls and years of personal crafts that you couldn’t examine for as long as you wished.

“Sorry I disappeared,” He acknowledges the unasked question, even though it lingered on your tongue, “—got a huge job at work, getting the site ready has been a pain in my ass.”

You share the lounge chair, taking a seat against the part of the chair that was propped up while Joel opts for the end, giving you a comfortable amount of space to stretch out if you wanted but also, and maybe instinctively, trying not to pressure you into feeling like you had to share space with him.

“Can I ask?”

Like a goddamn broken record, Joel chuckles at that. Full and genuine as he lights the end of the joint and wordlessly helps you, the same cupping motion of his hands that you welcome this time, almost eagerly.

“Ya gotta stop askin’ that,” Joel says, “especially when you’re just gonna ask anyways.”

Well.

“I’m a carpenter. Long hours, got a bad sleep schedule ‘cause of it. Pays good, though.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Not interesting at all, I know.”

“No—no, I mean. I don’t know what I was expecting you to say. That sounds…fun?”

“If you think busted knuckles and an achy back is fun—but I’m old, can’t really escape that.”

You laugh under your breath and inhale the joint between your lips, blowing it out as you speak.

“You are not old, Joel. Come on.”

“I’ve got two fully grown daughters in college and a 401k callin’ my name in about a decade.”

“So, what? Fifty five? Fifty six? You can do better than that.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You shrug at him, a satisfied smirk stretching over your face.

It’s a back and forth game you play for a while—nights spent at his house where you bicker back and forth, offering snacks and occasionally getting the royal treatment of dinner or a late-night breakfast if Joel was feeling too antsy to sleep.

He never flirts, really. Despite how you don’t cover up around him for his own sake, always showing up in your sleep clothes that barely allowed for any modesty or the summer clothes that clung to your body and hugged your curves, allowing his eyes to trace and outline all over your figure as much as he wanted to—and sometimes he did, catching his gaze on you for a brief moment before it fades.

But, the first crack in his hard facade comes over a late night meal of pancakes and bacon, grabbing the blueberries from his fridge as he fries the meat on the stove, his elbow bumping the fridge door and knocking the small plastic box of blueberries out of your hand and to the floor, a surprised yelp coming from your throat as you scramble to catch them all.

“Shit, shit—I’m sorry, that was my fault.” You apologize, picking at the blueberries that didn’t make it, shoveling them into your hand and Joel leans down slowly, kneeling as he scoops the tainted blueberries into his own hand and dumps them in the trash.

“My bad, baby—that was on me,” It flows off his tongue with ease and if he realizes he’s said it, he doesn’t acknowledge it, “damn grease popped at me—go on, sit down. I’ll clean the rest up and we can use up what’s left.”

You both enjoy your meal without a blip, not daring to address the slip-up—he peppers you with sugars and sweethearts and the occasional honey when you get a little too combative over a topic, but never baby.

The second time is less surprising and more of a comfort, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Again, struggling with his lighter—this time your hand is holding one of those sparklers you haven’t touched since you were a child—leftovers from the bunch that Sarah and Ellie, his two daughters had brought home over the holiday. You never came over, despite his insisting invitation and running into his brother Tommy on the way home the night prior to the Fourth of July. He'd insisted too.

It just won’t light—and Joel had made the mistake of getting a few of them wet when he’d cleaned off his deck that night and suddenly you’re wondering it’s just a dud.

You hover the flame, mind drifting as you watch the flame grow and you don’t realize you’re burning yourself until Joel is pulling the items from your hands, dropping you back down into reality as you feel the sting, the sudden burn to your thumb as Joel says something that you don’t quite hear at first.

“Sweetheart, you gotta pay attention—“

You look up at him meekly and he pulls you inside with a nod of his, turning on the cold water and pulling your hand under the stream.

“Where’d you go?”

You raise your eyebrows in question, the lingering high drifting off from earlier in the night.

“Oh—just, kinda spaced out, I guess?”

Joel rubs his thumb over yours gingerly and turns off the water, grabbing you a clean washcloth stuffed with a couple pieces of ice to soothe the burn for the time being.

“Baby, you really gotta be more careful.”

Your head snaps over to him as he threw a damp paper towel into the trash and watches the sudden realization cross your face—looking for uneasiness, fear, worry; but in an instant, your body relaxes and you shake your head.

“I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You see the way his lips part slightly, almost as if he’s gearing to add a, “Me too,” for a different reason, but it never comes.

Near the end of summer, you find yourself there again.

But, things feel different.

“So, I’ve got a surprise.”

Joel leans up at your words, arm resting over his knees as you plop the bag down on the table beside the chair—Joel looks slightly worried, eyes flicking toward you and back at the bag.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never tried edibles.”

“It’s not really my thing, sugar—”

“Joel, you’ve been smoking longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Now, you know that don’t mean a damn thing.”

You shake your head in fake dismay, slipping your hand into the bag to grab a few pieces.

One for him…a couple for you.

“Aren’t those supposed to be pretty strong?”

You shrug, “I think it depends. Person to person. I’ve never tried these before, but I’ve never had a bad trip, so…”

Joel’s eyes linger, finger poking at the small, cube gummy in your hand like a child discovering a new toy.

“Hey, we’re doing this together,” You offer as a half-assed comfort, “so if it sucks, it’ll suck for both of us.”

Joel doesn’t seem to need much convincing, though. He plucks the gummy from your palm and places it on his tongue, watching as you do the same and you chew, settling back on your palms at the end of the chair, feet outstretched and crossed in front of you as you stare up at the sky.

It was a Waxing Gibbous moon, not quite full but nearly there—it hovered over Joel’s house, just enough light to illuminate the space between you two. And you wait in comfortable silence aside from the low hum of music playing inside Joel’s house, dark inside now that he had turned off all the lights as you had followed him outside.

He always spent more time out here with you than he intended nowadays.

By a half hour, you find the idle conversation quickly divulges into things more obscure, your gaze lingering on the sky longer than you realize and Joel speaks to you softly, your heart pounding slowly in your ears.

“It ain’t going nowhere.”

You turn to him slightly, blinking a few times before you realize what he’s referring to.

“Oh. Well, obviously. It’s just pretty. I could stare at it all night.”

“Can’t blame you,” Joel responds, but his eyes are nowhere near the sky.

Oblivious, your gaze lingers upwards still, leaning back so far on your hands you feel yourself slip and yelp, only caught by Joel’s hands nearly a second short of a serious head injury.

“Come here,” Joel beckons, fingers wrapping around your bicep as he pulls you forward until your back is against his chest and he allows you to lean into him, feeling him clear his throat behind you as he keeps his hands a respectable distance despite how easily he’d move you into this position to begin with.

Commendable? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely.

If you couldn’t feel the hard, solid line of his body at your backside it wouldn’t bother you so much. And the heat of his body, scolding to the touch like a furnace. He ran hot, that much you already knew just by a few faint touches before but this—it overwhelms your senses.

You try to distract yourself, noticing the carved out wooden statue of a cowboy riding a horse while it was rearing back, you squint your eyes before perking up with a sudden question.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?”

You giggle slightly, tapping at his arm to grab his attention before you point in the direction of the statue placed by the stairs, “That thing.”

“Oh, that—I…made it.” He looks away with a sudden embarrassment as you quickly twist your head up to look at him in complete and utter shock—he scrunches his face up and dares to take a peek at you from his peripheral and his face heats up when he sees you looking so rapt.

“Joel, that is insanely fucking good.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” You mock his tone, “how long did that take to make?”

Joel tries to think—it’s been years now. Sarah was barely out of grade school and he had just adopted Ellie, it was all a blur anymore with both of the girls in college now.

“A month, on and off between jobs. It’s just a piece of junk, really.”

“Joel, shut up.”

Joel can’t hold back the even bigger laugh that escapes him at your bluntness.

“It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you seem to be really fuckin’ good at.”

Joel shrugs and you decide to leave it be, relaxing back into his chest more comfortably, though his arm lingers more closely to your body, fingertips resting against your bicep that slowly start to move on their own, whether by Joel’s own conscious movements or just by nature of seeking touch. It’s a gentle trace, it tickles and you shrug your arm slightly to which he responds with a gentle squeeze.

By the hour mark you find that Joel hates when you ask about his statues or some of the homemade structures in his backyard—littered throughout along with an old playhouse that you can only assume belonged to his daughters, much outgrown and covered in vines and weeds, intertwined through cracks in the wood.

He hates it so much he actually tries to distract you with something else. Anything.

Unfortunately, nothing really works. So, he changes gears completely.

“What’s with the sundress tonight?” Joel asks suddenly, the playful lilt to his voice hidden behind a sudden need for authority over the situation. “Gettin’ all dolled up in the middle of the night.”

“It’s new,” You say with an eagerness, rubbing your finger over the silk fabric of the dress, “do you like it?”

“You really askin’ my opinion?”

Of course. I bought it for you.

“Do you have one?” You say instead.

“It’s nice,” He runs his pointer finger and thumb over the strap on your left shoulder that slips down, lingering against your skin as his palm covers the expanse of it.

His touch feels far away but so intense, head swirling with thoughts you can’t follow—there’s a primal need there, though. And you can’t tell if he feels it too. If it’s just the weed in your system or if it’s weeks and weeks of built up tension boiling over the edge.

This is the closest Joel has allowed you to be—he’s relaxed, his barriers are down and the hand lingering on your elbow is careful but explorative, his fingers trailing to the middle of your chest, flipping the small silver necklace around your neck under his fingertips, feeling so delicate. More importantly, he feels your heart, stretching the palm out wide and over your skin.

“Y‘alright?”

You nod and shuffle your feet, planting them on the end of the chair as you pull your knees up, the dress falling just at the apex of your thighs, barely allowing any modesty and if you spread your thighs even a half inch—

Joel breaks his eyes away, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest despite your rapidly beating heart.

“That heart of yours is racin’, sugar. Are you sure?”

Again, you nod. But, the subtle shift against him forces his fingers lower as you adjust yourself higher, ass pressed right against his groin and it does no favor for Joel, who’s fingers dip just below the fabric of your dress in the process, grazing down the center of your chest.

“You nervous or something?”

Nervous, no. Joel didn’t make you nervous anymore. The heat between your legs told you otherwise, and the need for touch was impossible to ignore and maybe just for a moment—just a second, you could let him. It would solve this ridiculous ache that had grown between your legs.

Joel seems so in tune with you and he sees the way your eyes are locked on his hand, unmoving but the half of his fingers tucked under the top of your dress.

“You don’t make me nervous, Joel.”

That wasn’t necessarily the question—and suddenly, you realize your misstep, looking up at him suddenly to catch the intense look on his face, almost like he was anticipating your gaze. His bottom lip is slightly parted from his top, face flush from the summer heat but his eyes are dark, follow the path of your face until it lands on his hand and then he speaks.

“What is it then?”

The way you press your thighs together at the sound of his voice, low and heated, spoken behind a gaze that made you feel small but admired.

Touch me. Make it better.

You don’t say it, it’s only a thought.

But, Joel is a mind reader. He never leaves your sight, but his hand moves on its own accord and squeezes your breast gently. His rough and calloused palm is a stark contrast over soft skin and if you would have made any sign of not wanting this, he would’ve pulled away.

Instead, your chest cants under his touch and your head nods without an answer to his question, because he already knew.

“Lemme see ‘em, sweetheart,” It takes little effort to pull the straps down your shoulders, his other hand pushing the fabric just below your breasts, allowing them free and Joel makes a soft, low noise behind you as he covers your chest with both hands, thumbs grazing over your nipples as they pebble under his touch, “that feel better?”

Not good. Not alright. Better—was he helping you? Was he soothing that ache he’d created?

“Y-Yeah, yes.”

He’s just as curious, squeezing the flesh in hands and occasionally letting his finger trace down your abdomen as your dress shifts and shifts until it’s barely a means to keeping your modesty over your lap, hands pressed down at the space beside Joel’s hips as you push yourself up until your head is nearly level with his, his hands squeezing your tits together as you sigh. He hooks his chin over you shoulder and watches, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back.

“You need more?” He asks, “Tell me, baby—I’m right here.”

The baby rings through your head like a warning bell.

Once was an accident, twice a coincidence, three times…

Stop it. Stop it now and you won’t have to face the awkwardness after your high wore off and you both had a night to sleep and think and regret—but you find yourself nodding anyway.

Why was Joel any different from a random hookup? Other than being your neighbor, slowly coming to what you consider to be a friend, crumbling apart before you as he hikes your dress up over your hips and grips it tight.

You nod to his question.

“Take those off,” He speaks over your shoulder and you don’t need persuading, fingers hooking into the underwear clinging to your hips and down, over your ankles as you kick them away and almost instantly Joel’s hands are on your knees, spreading you wide, his palms squeezing at the inside of your thigh, “shit, look at that—“

He dips a finger down the center of your pussy, through the slick pool of accumulated pleasure and pulls away, shiny and glistening against his fingertips as he breathes against the shell of your ear, “All that just from me touchin’ you?”

You could answer—keep dragging out this game of cat and mouse that had started between you but instead you reach for his hand, placing it against your cunt as he cups it with his palm, dragging the two middle most fingers up and down the seam, circling over your clit briefly before they’re plunging inside of you with ease, aided by just how wet you were—your pussy throbs around his fingers.

Words are few and far between outside of the soft, mewling noises you make into the side of his face as your arm comes up and wraps around the back of his neck, yanking at the short hair at his nape and dragging your mouth along his cheek as you breath out in short huffs, his other hand coming down to circle at your clit with no preamble—straight for the kill and eager without saying it.

His grip is heavy, forceful as his fingers pump in and out of you pussy with little care, the soft squelch of your arousal around his fingers forcing the heat to climb to your face and you feel his jeans rutting into the backside, desperate for relief just as much as you but too selfless to speak up about it.

And you feel the crest in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy flutters around his fingers, a shout that is quickly muffled by Joel’s hand as it covers your mouth, the fingers still buried inside of you and working you through the aftershocks as he shushes you gently. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, legs shaking slightly as he removes his fingers and squeezes tenderly at the inside of your thigh, feeling the dampness from his fingers spread over your skin before they’re climbing their way up your body, along your skin until he’s bringing them to his mouth silently and cleaning them up like he’d made a mess of his meal, your eyes widen at the sight and you feel overtaken, flooded with desire that you can’t sit and suffer with any longer.

“Knew I was right in callin’ you sugar,” He teases, catching your face in between his fingers as you turn to kneel between his legs, “so damn sweet.”

His fingers tap at his thighs, rough denim under his fingertips to match his overworked, weathered hands and you can’t help but admire, knowing they had been buried inside of you a few moments ago and you bow your head, popping the button of Joel’s jeans as he casually reaches for your hips, kneading the muscle of your thighs as he watches, helping you situate his jeans far enough down his own thighs that you can slip your hands past his boxers, straining against the weight of his cock, hard and aching as it reached up toward his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” He tells you, but you scoff slightly in amusement, not wanting to know how frazzled you look, half-lidded and bloodshot eyes under the moonlight, bare aside from the newly bought dress at your waist and Joel is most definitely still staring at your tits, his eyes dragging up to your face a few seconds too late, “I’m guessin’ we should of talked through this first but I just wanted to make you feel good—”

“You think I feel obligated?” Your eyebrow raises up slightly before you’re pulling his boxer down just enough that his cock springs out, bobbing away from his stomach slightly and you only allow yourself half a second to react.

He’s big, from root to tip you know it is the biggest you’ve ever had and you’re waiting for the cocky remark, the begging for compliments and thoughts that you hear so often during these halfway thought out hook-ups but this wasn’t that. It was weeks of build up, the tension line snapping under the weight of your unspoken desire for each other.

“Joel—”

“Don’t go boostin’ my ego,” He chuckles, “—not you, baby.”

You laugh softly and dip your head, feeling his hand curve over and through your hair, down your neck before it settles against the middle of your back and he brushes the stray hair from your face, allows his finger to rest behind your ear as you tilt your head and lick a long stripe up his cock, flicking your eyes up briefly to catch him staring, mouth closed and unnaturally stoic for a moment, like he’s holding his breath.

“Show me,” You plead with him, “whaddya like?”

You move down slightly to roll your tongue along his balls, the weight of it in your mouth as you suckle and feel his fingertips scrape gently along your skin, allowing a few moments of your own exploration before he’s wrapping his hand around his shaft and using the other to grip your chin and rubbing the tip against your half-open mouth, forcing a dribble of spit between your lips and letting it trail down the tip before he feeds his cock into your mouth, tongue spreading flat over the underside and keeping him in your eye-line before it’s nearly impossible, feeling him guide you down until his cock nudges the back of your throat with a slight sting, eyes watering.

“Look at that,” His voice is low, gruff as it rumbles in his chest, “makin’ it all fit in that pretty little moutha’ yours.”

You quickly realize that Joel enjoys watching you feel consumed by him, choking on his cock as your head bobs up and down with fervor, a gentle guiding hand against the back of your head as you breathe through your nose, feeling him nudge the back of your throat over and over and over until you find yourself fighting for air and oblivious to the symphony of curses Joel was spewing above you as his neck was tight, straining as he tipped his own head back against the chair.

And he looks too fucking good to pass up on. You rise, pulling at the collar of his shirt to grab his attention and his eyes open wide, his pupils blown out and dilated as he watches you move, biting at your bottom lip as you shuffled your legs over his hips to straddle him.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Can I—sweetheart, you sure?”

You give him a look of flippant disregard, too impatient to pace through the steps of sureness. But, Joel is focused suddenly, pulling your attention to him as his palm finds your face, cradling your cheek and rubbing his thumb over the shape of your lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” He tells you.

“Yes, Joel.” You answer him impatiently, “I just—I mean I don’t have anything, but…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that,” Joel chuckles, “been out of commission for a while, sugar.”

You can’t help to release the giggle that bubbles in your chest at that.

He’d had kids, a family at some point—but that wasn’t his life now. He was a renewed bachelor, experiencing all the things he’d put on the back-burner to be a good and proper father. While this hadn’t been at the top of his list, or even anywhere on it really, you can see the happy satisfaction on his face with how comfortable he’s grown in the time you’ve gotten to know one another.

“Can’t tell,” You comment slyly as you lift up on your knees, allowing Joel to shift his jeans further down until they’re bunched sloppily at his ankles.

Joel rolls his eyes fondly, “Go on, baby.”

He watches, eyes following your hand as you grip his cock at the base, rubbing it along the center of your cunt, gliding through messy arousal and finding some excitement in the way he squeezes at your thighs a little too hard, fingers curling around the back of your knee as the head of his cock catches against your clit, again, again, barely allowing him to press inside of you until finally, a few harsh pleas balancing on his tongue that quickly dissipate as you sink down onto him inch by suffocating inch.

You breathe out slowly, watching Joel as he watches you, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock as it settles inside of you, only allowing the slow, gentle rock of your hips as you adjust.

His stomach flexes under your touch, fisting your hands into his shirt and lifting it out of the way before Joel gets the hint and strips himself completely, kicking his jeans off weakly as you sigh, squeezing gently as his shoulders and feeling his hands grip at your backside, into the soft flesh of your cheeks and you strip the wrinkled fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere behind Joel’s head as you fingers grip along the edge the bar of the chair above his head, lifting your hips in time with his movements as he keeps a firm hand on you, allowing soft puffs of groans to fall from his lips as your tits bounce with the frantic movement and Joel leans forward, capturing the side of your breast between his teeth, a gentle bite that causes you to squeak.

It’s quickly soothed by his tongue before he flicks it over your nipple, circling the peaked and pebbled nub before he’s sucking it between his teeth, eyes locking on yours from the depraved angle it allows you, still able to spot the few shining grays of his hair in this light. You card your fingers through his hair and arch your chest into his mouth, “J-Joel, maybe we should move this inside.”

He shakes his head, mouth still stuffed full with you as you moan out loudly when he smacks your ass in one gentle but solid swing and you want to blame his boldness on the dwindling drug in your system, but somehow you come to the conclusion that it was just Joel, unbridled and wanting. Of you.

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” Joel disagrees as he pulls back, “no one gives a damn ‘round here, anyways.”

“Says you,” You laugh weakly, whimpering softly as he snaps his hips into you with sudden force, his hand reaching for the back of your neck to urge you forward, forgoing your body for your lips and it’s more intense than anything else going on around you—his cock stuffed inside of you, the fingers on your skin, it didn’t matter for that brief second of a first touch, kissing you sloppily as you moan into each other’s shared space.

“Well, I do—got this one neighbor,” He jokes, “nosey as shit but damn is she a good fuckin’ time.”

You gasp as he pulls you close, free arm wrapping around your back as he slips his tongue past your lips, using the opportunity as your lips part to devour you in an instant and you pull at the stands of his hair in turn, kissing him back with a harsh pressure that begs for more.

“M’not nosey,” You defend lamely, “just—fuck, curious, ya know?”

“Thank god for that,” Joel sighs, and your pussy flutters before squeezing around him, “oh, fuck baby—do that... do that again.”

You do, teasingly, watching as Joel curses under his breath and leans back, watching you move against him without shame, a hand pressing against your stomach to guide you to lean back slightly, “Look at that, sweetheart—makin’ a goddamn mess on me.”

The short, coarse hair at his groin is wet and sure enough, covered in the messy slick of you and mixed with the thin sheen of sweat that had covered both of your bodies in this sticky heat.

“You like the idea of gettin’ high and letting me fuck you?” Joel questions amongst the pound of your heart in your ears, the heat of his gaze quickly driving you toward the edge again. He chuckles, “Dirty—dirty girl. Was that what you’ve been plannin’ since the beginning?”

“Would’ve let you fuck me either way,” You admit, only a half-truth. You weren’t sure if you’d ever pluck up the courage had Joel not made the first move, but you’re damn sure glad he did anyways, “and with a cock like that, god—”

“Easy,” Joel warns, “givin’ me a complex the way you were looking at it.”

“It’s big, Joel.” You admit, pushing the stray hair that had fallen down over his forehead away and back into this messily quaffed hair, “You like knowing I can barely fit it all in my mouth, don’t—don’t act coy about it.”

He’s not—he’d been more than willing to allow you to choke on the girth of him until you begged for mercy, but given his normally gentle nature with you, he wasn’t going to take it that far.

Your brow drags up in a pinch, moaning as his thumb presses against your clit and circles, presses down gently, just the right amount of everything to drive you to near insanity. Your thighs squeeze against his own where he has you spread out, hands balled up into fists that punch gently at his chest.

“You’re right there, baby—gotcha, I gotcha.” He murmurs, watching you intently as you grip at the arm wrapped around your back to keep you upright, fingers digging into his bicep as you tip over the edge, legs shaking through the second orgasm he’s given you that night, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start to see the flurry of stars in your darkened vision.

Your limbs give out shortly after, falling against his chest as he snaps his hips, just near the edge himself as he groans, grunts, breathing hotly into the curve of your neck and you rub at the little spot behind his ear that makes him chuckle, “Want it all inside,” You tell him through a cloud haze of need and pure desire, “can you do that, Joel?”

“Fill you up, sugar?” He asks, sounding a little taken aback, “If that’s—if that’s somethin’ you’re comfortable with.”

You nod eagerly and he loosens the reins completely, lifting one of your legs until you can plant a foot near his hip and he pounds into you, pulling back when he feels the impending orgasm grow in his gut, hot and intense. He watches as he comes inside of you with a few slow snaps of his hips.

“Shit,” He curses after a drawn-out silence, helping you move off of him and into a more comfortable position between his legs as he grabs lazily for his shirt, cleaning up the mess of your wet arousal against his skin and letting the spoiled shirt rest over his groin for modesty, breathing in slow, full breaths.

It’s been too long for him and he knows it.

Joel reaches for the dress that caught on the edge of the chair by his head and hands it over, watching as you slipped it over your head, legs still spread out over his own and he can’t help but draw his eyes to the sight of his come dripping out between your legs and he grins subtly, motioning you forward with a tired finger that you look at curiously before scooting forward an inch, thinking he may wipe something of your face, arrange a piece of hair back into place, but instead he’s slipping his ring finger inside of you and it forces a surprised gasp from your chest.

You laugh airily and swat his hand away, “Stop that,” You tell him.

“Just makin’ sure you don’t waste any of it, sweetheart.”

You snort, flipping him off half-heartedly as you reach for your underwear, standing up to pull it back up your hips and under your dress, swaying slightly on your feet after having been sat for so long.

You sigh, pushing your hair back with your hands, suddenly feeling sticky and gross in the aftermath and Joel seems to notice, slowly redressing himself as he stands.

“Why don’t you shower?” Joel suggests, leaving his jeans unbutton but pulled back up his hips. Shirt balled up in his hand.

You look geared to say no, but Joel sweetens the deal.

He looks at his watch, nearing two in the morning.

“I’ll make us an early breakfast,” He offers, shrugging with a lazy smile, “I mean—early early, because I know you’re probably starvin’. I know I am.”

“Only if you’ll make the blueberry pancakes.”

Of course that was the ultimatum.

“Deal, sugar—go get your ass in the shower.” He nods toward the house and you laugh, running away from the hand that pushes at your back.

So, maybe Joel wasn’t the scary neighbor you assumed him to be. But, you couldn’t deny the bursting affection that was growing in your chest for him and that was even more terrifying.

And when he serves up the pancakes to you, hair damp and dripping down your back and onto the shirt he’d lent you, a small square of pancake balanced on a fork that he feeds into your mouth, you feel it.

He's still shirtless, barefoot against his kitchen floor.

“We can—we can do this again, right?”

Joel smiles, looking down at the plate as he cuts off another piece.

“I’ve been waitin’ an entire summer to get the courage to do that, or even ask you on a proper date—we can do whatever you want, sugar.”

“Dates are overrated,” You shrug, “I like this better.”

“Good,” Joel grins, “least now I can mow that lawn of yours without feelin’ bad for asking.”

“Excuse you—I do just fine on my own,” You gasp with mock offense.

You’re lying—that mower was a piece of shit and Joel could see the way your face quickly melts into embarrassment, laughing quietly behind his fist.

“I like helpin’ out,” He tells you with a shrug, beginning to list off a few things he could help work on around your house, eyes drifting off as he went through the mental list, oblivious to the sudden closeness as you leaned over the counter and capture his lips, closed mouth with both of your cheeks puffed full of pancakes.

“You ramble when you’re high,” You tease him, “it’s adorable.”

Joel grimaces at the word but relents when he sees you smile, wide and spreading out across your entire face, snatching the fork from his hand while he’s distracted.

“So, same time next week?”

“Deal, sweetheart.”

Joel doesn’t care that you show up empty-handed the following week.

And frankly, neither do you.

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pasca #pedro pascal characters #my writing #um i have no reason other than pure horknee-ness

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strang3lov3 · 1 day

Text

Bite Me

You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten (5.3k)

Tags - 18+, smut, bite kink, lots and lots of biting, spitting, joel eats you out from behind because he's just in that kind of mood, brief ass eating, anything one can do with their mouth joel does to you, unprotected piv, creampie, not? gentle? sex, little dubcon bc joel is a maniac, little bit of blood, one (1) dad joke, skin tone is not described but bites and bruises in reader's skin are mentioned. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal for editing and @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal for encouraging this!! i love you all! A/N - thanks for your patience! I’m working on bigger things that are out of my comfort zone so enjoy this snack sized fic until dinner’s ready. I wrote this with my heart but most importantly my pussy, I hope that translates.

You and Joel are on patrol together at your usual post, an old two story house about an hour’s ride outside of Jackson. It’s early July, which usually means there’s more activity to keep an eye on as the summer warms; raiders, infected, strangers and the like. But not lately - there haven’t been any major threats, nothing to make your patrol shifts daunting like they usually are. It’s just been quiet and peaceful.

Boring.

So. Fucking Boring.

You’ve picked through everything in this house several times over and never found much. There’s no food or tools or anything useful, but there’s not even anything particularly interesting either. No paintings on the walls, no photo albums of old families to flip through as you like to do. There’s no books in the house either, apart from a few damaged by water and with torn pages, rendering them unreadable.

Joel used to get on your case about this, gruffly telling you to ‘Quit fuckin’ around’ and ‘Should be payin’ attention to your surroundings, not snoopin’ through shit that ain’t there’. But eventually, he got bored too. The surroundings never change, not much to really pay attention to, even for Joel.

There was one time Joel didn’t yell at you as you wandered off, and when you came back upstairs you found him sitting on a couch in the room with a big window, hunched over a coffee table, picking up and laying down playing cards. Solitaire.

You leaned over the back of the couch and tapped him on the shoulder, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping watch?” you asked, teasing.

Joel turned over his shoulder and glanced at you, then turned back to his cards and continued playing. “Smartass,” he mumbled. “You gonna rat on me?”

“No. As long as you know you’re a hypocrite,” you replied before rounding the side of the old couch and sitting next to him. You watched him as he flipped through the deck a couple times over, then he sighed in defeat. “Did you lose?”

“Yup,” he answered, gathering the cards and shuffling them a couple of times. “You’re losin’ next, though. You’re gonna play with me.”

“I don’t know any card games.”

Joel looked at you incredulously, “Bullshit,” he said. A deck of cards was one of the most valuable things one could own post-apocalypse. Endless games for solo play and small groups of people alike. Not much else to do to pass the time, but then again, people stay busy in Jackson.

“Oh wait - yeah, I do know one. I know Go Fish. Do you wanna play that one?”

“Pass,” he answered. “I’d rather play nothin’ at all if that’s our only game. You know Crazy 8’s, don’t you? Gin Rummy?”

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna rectify that, then. C’mere.”

Joel taught you three games that night. The first being War, because it’s easy and luck based - something for you to dip your toes into. The next was Crazy 8’s and then finally, Gin Rummy.

You weren’t lying when you told Joel you didn’t know any card games, but only because you could never learn. You didn’t like the pressure of learning in groups, didn’t like the vague instructions being shouted at you. Euchre was particularly awful to learn, you were holding back tears trying to get through that game. But Joel taught you differently, he was gentle and patient and calm with an open hand of cards. He’d play fairly and wouldn’t take advantage of your inexperience. His patience paid off - after some time, he had a consistent opponent for card games and your patrols together became a lot less boring. Now Joel never has to play another lonely game of solitaire again. You play with him just about every shift now, when it’s quiet and there’s nothing going on. Your favorite games to play are Crazy 8’s and War, not much strategy involved in those but Joel enjoys them anyway.

After taking your usual spots together on the couch, Joel reaches into a pocket of his backpack, the one on the inside that fits his deck of cards like a glove. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath.

“What’s the matter?”

“No cards,” he murmurs, feeling around through his items and coming up empty. “Must’ve left ‘em at Tommy’s.” Tommy and Maria recently hosted a game night and invited a couple of people, Joel being one of them. And then Joel brought you along to be his partner in group games. Playing with him one on one made you feel special, but you liked that he took you along as his date of-sorts. He shot you secret little winks from across the table before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows as he examined his hand.

“Oh,” you say. “So I guess we’re actually patrolling tonight, then.”

“‘Bout time,” Joel replies with a soft chuckle. “Maybe somethin’ of interest will happen, finally.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. I really hope not.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, “Me neither.”

It’s nice to watch the sunset through the big window, very relaxing and beautiful. As the light disappears, the color in the room begins to fade and looks like television in black and white. Joel looks like one of those old-timey movie stars, he has the face for it. He stares out the window and twists the end of his mustache and you think that could play the criminally handsome villain. All dark and mysterious, with his sharp nose and inky eyes.

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?”

Oops. Busted. “Nothing,” you lie. You don’t catch Joel’s smirk as you excuse yourself to go look through the house for the millionth time. Maybe there’s something to do around here that you’ve not seen before. Or a book, you’ll read anything - an instruction manual to a vacuum cleaner or a Cuisinart food processor even. Anything.

But there’s nothing new, nothing’s changed. Your fingerprints on cabinets and drawers from months and months before still sit in the dust. This place is fair and squarely empty. You sigh deeply before you return to Joel upstairs. “I’m bored,” you whine in his direction.

“Hi bored, I’m Joel.”

You could make waves with the power of your eye roll. “Are you sure you don’t have your cards?”

Joel rifles through his belongings once more and sighs. “Nope. Definitely at Tommy’s. God bless it.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’ll live.”

You don’t know that you will live, though. Death by boredom feels more likely. The minutes pass, but they feel like hours in the deafening silence. Joel makes no effort at conversation, which is very true to himself. He’s not much of a talker anyway, but leave it to Joel to sit in silence when even light smalltalk would make a world of difference in making this a less boring night.

Some minutes pass and you’re starting to get fidgety. You crack the knuckles in your hand, one by one by one which garners a look from Joel. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he murmurs.

You pick at your nails next, trying to even out some jagged and split edges. Joel looks at you again, glaring as you pick and pick. He fucking hates that sound. His chemistry teacher in high school used to pick at her fingernails during tests and it always made this awful, high pitched click, which was especially grating in the silence. The noise drives him crazy, like nails on a chalkboard. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit pickin’ at your nails, hon, that noise makes my teeth hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘makes your teeth hurt’?” you ask, still picking at your nails. You’ve almost got that one hangnail.

“Gives me the heebie jeebies, I don’t know–” Click. You got the nail. Joel shivers while gritting his teeth and groaning. “Knock it off,” he hisses.

“Okay, sorry,” you say. “I’m done.”

“Thank you.”

Peace and quiet once more. Joel’s bored too, but he doesn’t mind the insipidity of the evening as much as you do. He likes having the time to reflect, to slow down and collect his thoughts. He’s thinking about his day off tomorrow, what he’s gonna do. Probably harvest some vegetables from his garden, do a load of laundry and–

Click.

“What’d I just ask?”

You freeze where you’re at, the nail of one of your thumbs picking at the other, you’re caught red handed. “Shit. Sorry, Joel.”

“Uh-huh. Sit on your hands,” he commands.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit on ‘em.” You roll your eyes as you wedge both of your hands under your thighs just like Joel asked and he nods in approval. “There. F’you can sit still for twenty minutes, you can have your hand privileges back.”

“You can’t take away my hand privileges, Joel. They’re hands. They’re attached to me.”

“I can, indeed. If ya do it again, you’re losin’ a finger.”

A baseless threat, but you know Joel means business so you do your best to sit still. Surely he doesn’t actually expect you to not move at all. You’re allowed to adjust, move yourself into a more comfortable position so you do, and then you feel the corner of your nail get stuck on a thread of your jeans. You pull your hand from under yourself to examine it, feel the irregularity. You’re trying to ignore it but you just can’t.

Pick pick pick.

Joel turns to your direction and in a swift movement, grabs both of your hands in his and squeezes, shaking you gently. “Enough,” he fumes, frustration in his voice. He loosens his grip slightly and you pull your hands away before you really do lose a finger, you fear that his threat did in fact hold water. “Hey,” Joel says, his voice softened. “That’s somethin’ we could do.”

“What’s something we can do?”

“Slap jack,” he answers plainly, nodding his head like he’s waiting for you to tell him you understand. You don’t.

“What’s slap jack?”

“You don’t know slap jack?” he asks. You shake your head, no. “You don’t know much, do you?”

“Hey,” you complain. Rude.

“Relax, I’m teasin’,” he says, “You know you’re a smartass. Now give me your hands.” Cautiously, you extend your hands towards Joel and he takes them gently in his own, “Flatten ‘em,” he says, “Like this.” maneuvering your hands into place so that your palms are facing the ground. He places his hands underneath yours, his palms facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

“I guess?”

Bam. Joel flips his hands on top of yours and slaps the back of your hands. “Joel!” you shriek. “That hurt.”

“Well don’t let me hit you, then,” he smirks. “That’s the game. You gotta move your hands before I getcha.”

You giggle. And Joel really didn’t hit you hard, you were just startled. The prospect of the game excites you. “Again,” you say.

You lay your hands out flat, Joel holds his underneath yours. He uses his fingers to tease your palms, tapping and tracing along your skin. Smack. Back in the same position once more, with your hands on top of Joel’s. He doesn’t tease this time, just smacks you again. A third time you lay your palms on his, and he teases again - fingers creeping on your skin, tickling and thrilling you. With every minor movement of Joel’s hands, you pull your hands back. “You’re flinchin’ an awful lot,” he teases. “S’usually against the rules, but I’m bein’ nice.”

“You’re gonna hit me!”

Joel shakes his head. “I’m not gonna hit you, sweetheart. Why would I do that?” Smack. You gasp and rub the backs of your hands, smiling at Joel with an open mouth. He beat you again. “You’re terrible at this,” he says.

“It’s my turn,” you decide, laying your hands out with your palms facing up. Joel places his hands on top of yours just like how the game goes. You flip your hands to slap his and hit nothing but air. He’s too quick. Settling back into place, you try again and Joel pulls away too quickly for you to slap him. It’s the same thing over and over again until you decide you're done playing. Offense and defense, you never win, only lose.

“You’re a sore loser, you know that? Card games too, you do not like to lose, do you?”

“I don’t - you’re just–”

“Just what?”

You’re not answering that. You know what the answer is, that he’s too good at these games and you’re not but you don’t need to tell him that, inflate his ego even more. “I wanna pick a game.”

“Be my guest. One that you can win, right?” You couldn’t slap Joel’s hands but you’re sure you could slap that stupid shit-eating grin off right off of his face right now. You just take Joel’s left hand and offer him yours. “What game’s this?”

You’re retaliating. He didn’t hit you hard at any point, but you’re gonna get him back. There’s not really a name for this game, it’s just something you used to play when you were a teenager. It’s on par with those other stupid teenager games, truth or dare and spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s the biting game.”

“Biting?” Joel looks at you incredulously.

“Yeah, biting. I bite your hand, you bite mine. See who can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice game,” Joel says.

“Well it’s fitting then, because you’re not a very nice man.”

Joel smirks, “No, ‘spose I’m not.”

“So, do you wanna play?”

You don’t even let him answer before bringing his hand to your mouth, fitting your teeth over the fleshy part of it - right in between his thumb and forefinger, where his unique bullseye tattoo sits. Joel follows suit, placing his teeth over your hand and letting them rest there. You feel the heat from his mouth, the softness of his lips. His teeth are blunt, threatening to sink into you and tickling your skin as he waits for the game to begin. “Ready?” you ask, your voice muffled by his hand. Joel nods, his big brown eyes sparkling in the low light. “Okay.”

You bite Joel, holding his gaze. His skin is salty and warm. Joel bites with you and you’re both rather tentative at first, biting the other gently. You take the initiative to bite him harder, “Mm,” he mumbles, surprised by the pain yet won’t go further.

“That's all you got?”

Joel raises his eyebrows at your challenge. He squeezes his eyes shut as he bites down, hard. In turn, you squeal and pull back, and Joel releases your hand in an instant. You shake your hand and rub the mark he left, laughing. “Motherfucker,” you gasp.

Joel turns on a lantern on the coffee table and takes your hand back to inspect it. “You okay?” he asks, tracing the marks in your skin. “You don’t have much of a pain tolerance.”

“It’s a sensitive spot,” you reply.

He makes an amused sort of expression at that, still rubbing your hand as he nods in response. The closeness in proximity, the peculiar intimacy of the game you and Joel have just played - it feels like something in the atmosphere changes, charged, the way the air feels before a storm.

Joel breaks the silence, “Bet you’re sensitive like that everywhere,” he whispers. “Should grow some thicker skin.”

“Joel–”

He takes your hand again, this time skipping that fleshy spot on your palm and instead bringing your wrist to his mouth. His mustache is prickly on your skin. Joel bites your wrist, and you can’t help but let out a little gasp, even though he’s gentle just like before. He increases pressure until you’re yelping again, but this time he doesn’t let you go. He watches you squirm, catching your lip in your own teeth as you writhe in pain. You exhale in relief when he loosens his bite, then shiver as he drags his teeth along your forearm and bites you there next, then moves up to your bicep. Each bite is harder than the last, including when he pulls the collar of your top away and bites your neck. The skin is tender and thin and it hurts, really fucking hurts as you whine in pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

Joel soothes the bite mark with his tongue which startles you perhaps more than his teeth did. “You can take it,” he whispers against your skin before searching for another part of your neck to bite. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it to the side, allowing himself access to you. You feel him open his mouth and bite down, but this time it feels good. Joel notices your reaction, feeling the vibration of your moan with his mouth against your neck. “You liked that,” he says, it’s not a question.

You’re at a loss for words. Breathing heavily, you pant, “Fu - Joel…”

“It’s okay. You can admit it.” Joel likes it too - all that flesh between his teeth. The marks of his teeth he leaves in your skin, the bruising that surrounds them - it’s his artwork, unable to be replicated. Nobody else has his teeth and nobody else has your skin. He’s not broken skin yet but he imagines the faint taste of your blood on his tongue, tangy and metallic mixed with the sweetness of your skin. Fuck, he could eat you whole. Make you hurt, oh, he’ll make you fucking hurt. He softly bites your earlobe next, “Feels good to hurt sometimes,” he purrs in your ear. The heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “So I’m gonna keep bitin’, then. And you’re not gonna quit on me like last time. Are you?”

Despite the pain, the way it sort of intimidates you, you find yourself complying, nodding. You feel his mustache before his lips, his lips before his teeth, and finally his tongue, hot and wet. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced - salacious and erotic, frightening and tormenting, all at the same time. You feel Joel everywhere, in places he’s not even bitten or kissed or touched yet. God, you hope he touches you there.

Joel pushes your shirt up your body, his fingers brushing over you as he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. He pushes the straps off your shoulders, you watch as the undergarment falls into your lap. Joel taps your jaw twice, “Tilt your head back for me,” he instructs. He nips at your neck and collarbones before gently pushing you down on the couch, pulling your pants and underwear down in one movement before situating himself between your legs. You’re laid out for him, bare. His canvas to paint as he pleases. With darkened eyes, Joel pores over your body - he’ll hurt you here, pleasure you there, tease you somewhere else - the horizon is endless.

He begins with kisses down the column of your throat, cascading down your sternum. He moves over to one of your breasts and you know it’s coming, but it startles you anyway. He bites hard on such a sensitive part of you, “Shhh,” he coos, quieting you. With a strong, masculine hand on your other breast, he finds your nipple and flicks it, drags his thumb over it until it pebbles beneath his touch, effectively soothing your cries of pain and turning them into noises of pleasure.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck, Joel.”

“You’re doin’ good,” he tells you. “Doin’ just fine.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth around your hardened nipple, threatening to clamp down. He bites you gently, oh so gently, just enough to secure the bud in place for him to roll between his teeth. He brings his tongue into play then, swiping it over your nipple and circling it. After repeating the action with your other breast, his head travels lower, lower. Biting at whatever he pleases, kissing when he feels like it. He bites your hips - a sharp pain, and then your thighs - dull.

You can’t help yourself as your fingers find your sex, already so wet. You circle your clit a couple of times before Joel pulls your hand away, biting and sucking your arousal off your fingers. He replaces your fingers with his own, pushing two of his thick fingers inside you as he bites and nips at your thighs, sucking at your skin as well. His teeth, his fingers, all where you need Joel the very most - it all feels so good, so intense, you don’t quite know where pain ends and pleasure begins as he works his fingers inside you.You don’t know if he’ll bite you hard or soft, a small bite or a big mouthful of your flesh and you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin. He alternates between biting, sucking, kissing, licking you, using his tongue and lips and teeth to drive you wild, have you writhing and melting under him.

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. “Suck,” he says, and you do, tasting the tanginess of your own arousal on your tongue. Joel takes your hips in his strong hands and flips you over on your stomach, then sits back on his knees. You hear the quiet rustling of his clothes, that discernable sound of his zipper being undone before his clothes are tossed on the ground. He bends one of your legs and leans over you to kiss and nip at your ankle, then the other, biting up your calves. He traces his tongue over the backs of your knees before he bites you gingerly, the action has you gasping and moaning. Joel chuckles against your skin. “Knew you were sensitive,” he murmurs. He kisses his way up your thighs, kisses your ass cheeks and bites where they meet your thigh. “Up, lift up, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, urging you to lift your hips. He finds his pile of clothes and bunches them beneath your hips, propping you up for him.

Joel parts your lips with his thumbs, spreading your sick folds for easier access. You feel his hot breath on your heat and you’re nervous, anticipating that blunt feeling of his teeth on your most sensitive place, but it never comes. Instead, his nose - aquiline and perfect, tracing up your clit, your flesh until he finds your hole, his nose buried in your most private place. He spreads your cheeks and spits between them, the saliva drips down, down. He traces you with his tongue, circling clockwise, then counter. “Fuck,” you whimper, pushing your hips back into his face as your nerves tingle. He kisses the sensitive area before traveling lower, his lips finally meeting you where you need them most. “Oh god,” you whine.

Joel dips his tongue into you, humming in pleasure as he does - he fucking loves it, the heat of your cunt and your sweet arousal soaking his face, and he knows that hours later he’ll still be able to smell you. He pumps his tongue in and out, delving into you. He drags the muscle through your folds, all wet and sticky with your slick before he finds your clit to lick and suck at that sensitive part of you.

He eats you voraciously like he loves it, passionate and determined as he savors you. The way Joel’s lips wrap around your clit, his nose in the space he just fucked, on his knees - this is what he’s meant for, what you’re meant for too. It’s obsession. He’s all fingertips bruising into your skin under his crushing hold, his tongue a relentless assault on your sex. You feel his salt and peppery scruff scratching your inner thighs and rubbing you raw. In the coming days you'll still feel him, skin burning as the hot water of your shower runs down your legs. You love it now, and you’ll love it then.

You’re moaning, babbling Joel’s name, begging him but you don’t know what for - For him to make you come and then to stop, because it’s too much. Begging him for more and less, the push and pull of it all. Joel smirks against your cunt, proud of the delirium he’s brought you to using just his mouth. His grip is still ironclad despite all of your grinding and wriggling, trying to right yourself like an insect on its back. He listens intently to your body and all the different noises you’re making, broken moans and those sticky, obscene sounds of your cunt being sucked and licked and lapped. When your thighs begin to twitch, your breaths become sharp and unsteady with your impending release, he doubles down on his efforts until you’re coming all over him, soaking him wet.

You’re a mess of hazy thoughts, barely aware as he’s pulling your hips back, pushing your chest down. With one hand, he rubs soothing circles on your lower back as he holds the other in front of his face and spits into it before wrapping his palm around his cock, throbbing and angry. He pumps himself a couple of times, the leaking tip rubbing against your ass. When he’s ready, he reaches for your neck with the hand previously rubbing your backside and forces you up. He bites your ear first, then fits the head of his cock into your entrance.

Joel offers no warning before burying himself into you inch by inch, splitting you in two. You whine as he fills you up, stretches and hurts you so nicely, he bites you harder the deeper he pushes into you. He doesn’t take time to let you get used to the ache, he knows you’ve come to love the pain he gives to you, because that’s what he’s made you do. Joel pulls out of you all the way and pushes himself right back in, harder and faster than before. “Know it hurts,” he says with your earlobe between his teeth, “But you gotta take all of it.”

Joel fucks you quickly at first, having already found the right pace and the right angle to make you squirm in pleasure. He wraps his arm around your torso and nudges your head to the side so he can bite into your neck again. You’re flush against his torso. He fucks you steadily - in, out, in, out. You keen into the sensation, losing yourself in it all - he’s hot and clammy behind you, his tuft of unruly pubic hair rubbing against you. You reach behind yourself and touch the side of Joel’s face where his graying curls are muttered against his skin, dampened with his sweat. Joel turns his head and bites into the fleshy part of your thumb. He’s a mess of curses and praises, telling you what a good girl you are between heavy breaths and sharp inhales, whispering fuck and Christ, sweetheart.

Without a warning, he pulls out of you and falls back on the couch, grabs you roughly by your arm and sits you on top of him. You’re face to face with him now, staring into his dark, hungry eyes as he pulls you down on his cock, fucking you apart. He eyes you up and down, and then his lips curl into a crooked smile. “Look at you,” he whispers, tilting your head down to look at your body. “You’re all marked up, sweetheart. What a goddamn mess. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a nice game.”

He’s right. You look down to see your breasts covered in bites and dark bruises, the marks dotting your torso in the dim light. Some are swollen and angry, others not quite so. You see a bruise on your shoulder and think about what you can’t see, the bites on your neck and collarbones. “Let’s count ‘em together,” he purrs in a low tone. He fucks up into you, “One,” he grunts, “Two, three. Four. Jesus, sweetheart, you’re fuckin’ covered. But I ain’t done with you yet.”

Joel pulls you close to him, your chest against his as he thrusts into you. He brings his teeth to that place where your shoulder meets your neck and bites hard, harder than he has before. It hurts, truly fucking hurts and you cry out loudly, a choked sob escaping your throat. He’s broken skin. “Quit squirmin’, be still f’me. Breathe through it,” he instructs, finally tasting your coppery blood on his tongue. With each thrust he moans against you and his teeth sink deeper and deeper, but it feels worse than it is. You won’t scar, but he’ll be lucky if you do. “You’re doin’ so good. Know it’s a lot, I know. I know…”

He licks over the damage and brings his thumb to your clit as he does, pushing you back to examine your face. He wipes away the tears he expected you’d cry as he paints tight, steady circles into your clit, knowing it won’t be hard to bring you to the edge. He reaches up, pulls you close to his face and kisses you gently, tangling his tongue with your own in a way that makes you dizzy. “I gotcha,” he says, “Come for me.”

You’re right fucking there, aching for release as he rounds your clit with his thumb and rolls his hips into yours. Your breaths are shallow, your moans are broken and you’re squirming - so fucking close. Joel seems to know just what you need: he sinks his teeth into your plump, swollen bottom lip as he works you with those tight, steadied circles, all the while he fucks you deeply. And then you’re there, and god is it intense, the pleasure and pain. You taste your own blood as you come, breaking into pieces in Joel’s arms as powerful waves pleasure wash over you, rough and unrelenting like the sea during a storm.

Joel comes undone with you, loudly, with grunts and groans and other noises of pleasure. With wild thrusts, he paints your insides with his hot come before he slows to a still. You climb off of him and his come spills out of you and onto the old upholstery of the couch. Joel’s breathing heavily next to you, and when he catches his breath he looks at you with relaxed eyes, eyes that go wide when he looks at what he’s done to you. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt from under you and wetting it with water from his canteen. You catch your reflection in the mirror and see some of the bruises and bites he’s left on you, then you look down at the rest of your body. This time, with the light in front of you, you can see it all. Marks on your wrists, your arms, your chest and your hips and your thighs. You smile. He’s added so much color to you, his very own temporary tattoos. “I don’t know what came over me,” he says. He dabs the wet shirt over your bloodied lips and then your neck, his big dark eyes full of worry as he holds one of your hands. He rests it loosely on top of yours, sort of like that game from before. He doesn’t notice you begin to wriggle yours from beneath his. “Gotta get back and clean you up, bandage you and–”

SMACK. You hit his hand, hard. Joel looks flummoxed.

“Got you.”

When he realizes the game you’re playing, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Nice one, smartass.” Joel lifts the shirt and examines the bite on your neck a little closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too bad?”

You shake your head no. “I got you,” you repeat, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever. You got me.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog <3 i would appreciate an ask too, just tell me something good <3

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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yeyinde · 1 day

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regency era Price au where he's a little bit of a creep. thirsting after the poor servant girl attending to his wife. cornering her in the rooms she's working in by putting his burly body into the doorframe, blocking her only escape as he watches her work. and she's so naive that she thinks he believes her a thief. poor thing. refuses to budge when he dismisses her, so she's forced to squeeze past him to get by. gets groped as she does so, but he's her employer. what can she say? and besides. everyone says he's a good man. surely this must be fine, then?

he asks her questions that get progressively grosser and intrusive as time goes on, and refuses to let her leave until she answers. humiliating, shameful questions dragged out into the open. do you have any family. can you really say they love you if they let you work like this? like a dog? does anyone really care about you at all? why are you working here? have you ever been kissed? touched yourself? ever lain with a man?

no? well. he'll help you out with that.

a nasty man who uses your inexperience to his advantage, whispering in your ear that he's the only one who can do this to you, who put that ache deep inside of you. the only one who can fill it, too. gets you drunk and fucks you on his marriage bed, promises that Mrs Price will be gone soon enough, don't you worry your little head over that. he'll take care of everything, sweet girl.

it causes quite the controversy when Mrs Price goes missing the next morning. ran away, you see. was never quite happy with her husband, anyway. A divorcee of only a few weeks and already "courting" the old servant girl who used to attend to his wife. pregnant out of wedlock, they whisper. the poor girl taken for a fool by one of Mr Price's associate. good thing Mr Price is there to step up for you despite the stigma, caring for your child as if it was his own. such a good man, isn't he? you could do a lot worse.

#hfhfhdhhd #a creep!!!!!#an awful old man!!!!#captain john price x reader #i love him so much when hes awful and weird and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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missberrycake · 2 days

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I’ve been thinking this morning about if Steve didn’t get back together with Nancy at the end of S1—I think there’s a lot of different ways that could go, but what if Steve ended up as one of Eddie’s lost little sheep?

Because even if Steve was popular enough to keep afloat in the choppy waters of high school, after his bust up with Tommy and Carole—and even when he’s seen talking with Nancy and Jonathan Byers of all people—he still doesn’t really have any true friends left. Sure, he has people he can chat to in class, but at lunch? After school? Nobody is really thinking about who ex-jock, ex-bully Steve Harrington is hanging around with.

Perhaps he spends the rest of his junior year dreading lunch hour, because he knows he’s going to have to deploy some serious charm tactics—taking as long as he can in the queue, chatting to the students either side of him—and perhaps if he lingers long enough at one of the tables of his more social classmates, pretends he’s just catching up, carrying on a conversation from class, he can make it seem like it’s all still as easy as it was before.

Sometimes, though, he doesn’t have the energy to pretend. On those days he’ll retreat quietly to his car and eat his lunch behind his wheel, wondering how different it might have been if he’d never gone back into the Byers’ house that day last fall.

It’s on one of those days that Eddie sees him. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t noticed him before, he’s always on the lookout, after all, and Steve Harrington is one of those people who always drew his eye. He’d seen him scouring the cafeteria while queueing up for his state-mandated mac ‘n’ cheese, searching for a space where he could fit.

And, of course, he’d heard the whispers about Steve—that he’d punched Tommy H in the face, gotten his crown beaten from his head by Jonathan Byers (though he didn’t seem to hold a grudge). If there’s one thing to know about Eddie, it’s that he’s a bleeding heart, and so when he sees Steve sitting alone in his car, winter frost glittering against the metal, he lets out a heavy sigh and trundles over.

“Hey, Harrington,” he says, pushing down a smirk when Steve jumps (he is easily startled these days, isn’t he?).

“Munson,” Steve replies with narrow eyes. He doesn’t trust Eddie yet, not entirely.

“There’s more space in my van. If you wanted some company.”

Eddie leaves it like that, keeps it casual, knows that he might get it shoved right back in his face—expects it to be, even. And so he’s surprised at how quickly Steve nods back at him, a real smile breaking out on his face, if only for a moment, until Steve clears his throat and says, “Sure, yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

It’s the start of something big. A delicate balance where the two of them pretend that it’s not that important, but somehow they’re more honest with each other than they’ve ever been with anyone else. Steve tells Eddie all about how he doesn’t even really know who he is anymore, and in return Eddie shares just how worried he is that he knows exactly who he’s expected to be, and that he can’t change his fate even if he wanted to.

By the time the next school year starts, it’s well established with the school population that Steve Harrington has somehow landed himself with an honorary spot in the Hellfire Club. He doesn’t play—refuses to learn, even if it’s clear that he’d do pretty much anything else that Eddie Munson would ask of him—but he helps set up the meetings, sits with them at lunch, smiles stupidly whenever Eddie gets up onto the cafeteria tables to rant about the shallow-mindedness of his peers.

And if Eddie’s diatribes are directed at the popular crowd with a little more venom than they used to be, and if he seems to take great pleasure whenever Tommy H, or Carole, or those posers on the basketball team frown and scoff and sneer at him, it’s no great secret to everyone else in the lunch hall exactly why.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #missberrycake

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blueboybot · 2 days

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A Lantern's Light

This time it isn't Batman, Superman or even Wonder Woman that has a secret child. Rather, it is none other than our resident Green Lantern, Hal Jordan.

Memory holds knowledge and within that knowledge holds power.

Maybe Star Sapphire and Green Lantern did manage to live a happy life before everything went to ruins.

When Danny unexpectedly gets saved by Hal they both stop, just looking at each other...

_____________

Danny should've been faster. He saw the fight, he knew how close they were and yet he didn't think to use one of his many ghost powers to get far away. Now he was about to be crushed by a giant piece of apartment building. It won't kill him but it was sure going to be a mess on the streets and that will bring more attention to him than he wants.

Before the giant piece of stone could do its job a green light encased it, not exactly like the ecto-green he saw with other ghost, and stopped it from making him the human pancake he was destined to be, green slightly poisonous syrup included. When the stone was put aside Danny was able to see the hero Green Lantern.

Now Danny has only ever seen the man on tv or far away while the other fights and even then he didn't pay him much interest. But now that he was here, now that he was so close to him Danny felt something. His core, his soul...it knew this man, it new Green Lantern.

"Hey kid you need to go this place isn't safe...for...you..."

__________

Hal is a lot of things.

A test pilot who worked for Ferris Aircraft.

A member of the Green Lantern Corps working with other Green lanterns and venturing out into parts of space that he thought was never possible for him.

A member of the Justice League where he fights alongside other heroes, taking down any evil that threatens the earth and making sure it is a safer place for its inhabitants.

But.

There was a time when he was blessed with a miracle and became a father to the cutest baby in the world. His baby boy that he took almost everywhere with him, playing with him and watching as those blue eyes lit up with enough joy to power a house.

Hal doesn't like to think about those memories now, they always came accompanied with the sound of thunder, rain, screaming and crying. He lost everything that day and he was sure he'd never see those eyes again.

So why...why were they looking back at him?

__________

Danny did not know what was happening to him right now and he was a bit scared. Him and Green Lantern have just been there staring at each other, not saying anything, just staring.

Green Lantern touched the down on the ground and very slowly started walking towards him. Danny couldn't find it in himself to move, he was paralysed and it wasn't completely by fear.

When he was close enough enough Green Lantern looked down at him, not in the arrogant way, as if he didn't realize how short Danny would be. Danny was in a bit of awe of how much bigger and more muscled the man looked up close, the way his masked eyes looked as if they almost glowed. Despite all of this Danny didn't feel any of the fear one should when a man this big corners you, rather, he felt safe.

Green Lantern reached out his hand to hold the side of Danny's face softly and he melted into the touch. This feeling of safe and comfort was almost too much, he hadn't this way in a long time, not since he had to run and leave everyone and everything he loved behind. He didn't even realize he was crying.

A loud boom shook the ground they were standing on and Green lantern turned around, it was all that was need to break whatever weird spell was on Danny. Using his invisiblity to stay out of sight he took off, using flight to fly far away from Green Lantern.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp crossover #dp fandom #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #green lantern #hal jordan #danny is hal's baby that died #hal lost his baby once and he's not about to repeat that #dad!hal jordan

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peachesofteal · 20 hours

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader request (s): grocery run, Simon talks about “the move”

“These look good.”

You’re holding a carton of strawberries, lifting them to the ceiling to check the bottom. “Huh big guy? Do these look good?” You lean close, tickling his toes from where he’s hanging in the baby carrier on Simon’s chest. Orion giggles, beaming at you like always, and you smile right back.

Simon tries not to blurt out right then and there how much he loves you. He stems the stream fighting to fall out of his mouth, walking mindlessly behind you, Orion kicking his feet and babbling, something new that started when he was away. He’s so proud, thrilled to watch his son start to grow, start expressing himself, and it pains him all the same. He’s missed so much, and he’s going to keep missing things.

“What about some pasta?” You’re turned with an eyebrow raised, and he blinks.

“Hmm?” He palms Orion’s belly.

“Pasta. For dinner tonight?”

“Sure honey. Whatever you want.” Your head cocks, slightly, and you put a dry bag of linguine in the cart.

“Want to go pick out a jar of sauce and I’ll meet you at the yogurt?” You stretch your back. “Not sure I feel like going for scratch tonight.”

“Okay. Come on bub, let’s go get mama her sauce.”

There are too many options. He didn’t realize there could even be this many options, white, pink, red, garlic, no garlic, the list goes on.

It’s a bit of a puzzle. What do you like? He should know these things. He wants to know these things.

“What a handsome little man.” A woman appears at his elbow, leaning past him to peek at Orion. “He’s so cute.” He gives her his only attempt at a polite smile, though it’s strained and looks like a grimace.

It’s hard, pretending to be a civilian. Walking around in a grocery store like he wasn’t just pulling a trigger a week ago. His instinct is to size the woman up, analyze her for potential threats, cover the back of Ry’s head with his hand. He grits out a thanks. “Thank you.”

“He looks just like you,” she continues, smiling, “handsome like his daddy.” The sentiment curdles his stomach, and he narrows his eyes.

“His mama agrees.” Her smile turns a little embarrassed, awkward, but still present, persistent.

“I’m sure she does if she’s got two big men around.” Bloody hell.

“If you’ll excuse-“

“Simon?” You’ve just turned into the aisle with the trolley, confused at first, and then catching up quickly. You sneer at the stranger, stepping around her to point to a sauce on the shelf, your breasts grazing his forearm. “I like this one.” You say softly, sliding a hand to his lower back, glancing over at the obtrusive woman. “Will you get it for me?” He smirks.

“Of course mama.”

“Is that it?” You eye the three bags, two duffels and a backpack. He shrugs.

“Don’t really have a lot. I have a storage unit for some things in Manchester, family stuff, but I’m pretty used to jumping around. Flat I rented came furnished.” You suck in a breath, like you’re all the sudden realizing what a daunting task it is, being his. Belonging to him. Being loved by him, a man who kills for a living, a man whose possessions only fill three, four bags at most.

“Okay, well, there are drawers… in the dresser, and half the closet of course. I cleaned out some bathroom drawers too, I wasn’t sure what you’d be bringing so I made some room in the kitchen too, in case you had dishes, and-“

“Hey.” He steps close, snaking a palm around the back of your neck and stroking over your pulse point. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… this is a big deal.”

“It is.” He hums.

“I’m not… changing my mind, just like… my flat isn’t exactly… Simon sized.” He swallows his grin, pleased at how you’ve walked right into his next topic of conversation.

“About that…” your brow creases. “I think we might be a little cramped here, mama.” You slump.

“I know…” you sound defeated and he thumbs your cheek. “I just… I don’t know what comes next. I’ve been here so long, you know? It’s my place. And what do we do?” He does know it’s your place, knows how much you love your stacks of books, your small hanging house plants that sun by the window. He loves how you decorated Orion’s room, dark green with gold stars, loves how your plates and cups and bowls are all a mix of painted pieces, ornate designs that don’t really match but always seem to fit together.

He knows it will be hard, these next steps, but he’s not afraid. He trusts he knows what’s best for his family, knows how to keep you safe, and happy. He knows you’ll love it, the one he’s picked out.

He just has to tell you now.

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #through me (the flood)

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magics-neptunes-things · 1 day

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Bang, Bang.

Hi guys!

So this is from this request and it won't be an happy one. It might contain some medical things who aren't right, but I'm not a doctor even if I made some research to write something logical.

Please enjoy and thanks again dear anon for your perfect request ♥

Also no proofreading for now, sorry!

TW : Fight between lover, gun, shooting, bleeding, hospital, coma, sadness and a lot of angst.

Champion’s league finale. You are playing with your team against Barcelona and more specifically your girlfriend’s team. The Spanish are looking for another cup to continue to break all the records, but your team is very motivated to stop them. It would be the first Cup for your club and for you, too. It’s not ideal playing against your girlfriend honestly, but you knew when you start dating that it was a risk to take.

Alexia and you are together for more than two years now, your forever crush becoming reality at a point during the Euro and when Alexia did her ACL. It’s not easy being away from your girlfriend, even if you are playing in Manchester city with some of your national teammates and friends (Laia Aleixandri and Leila Ouahabi).

The game is tough, at the end of the ninety minutes, each team has scored two goals. At the 93 minutes, you manage to take the best on the defender who is marking you, using your full speed after having received a very good pass from Laia. You can hear the crowd screaming, City’s fans encouraging you while Barcelona’s fans are booing. But when you are facing the keeper, you shut everything and send a cannonball in the upper corner of the net. The keeper can’t do anything.

You don’t have time to register that you just scored 1 minute before the end of the adding time, your teammates tackling you on the ground. This is a mix of jersey, hair, hug and pat on the head for several seconds, before the referee ask you to go back to your position to start the game again.

She made you play two minutes more to catch up the time you lost while celebrating, but Barcelona don’t score. Then the whistle resonate in the stadium and you just won the UEFA Champions League. Not knowing how to react, you stay still for many seconds, before someone jump on your back to train you in a group hug.

You don’t stay a long time though, you want to check on Alexia. You easily find your girlfriend sitting on the ground, her jaw clenched. There is no one around her, so you chose to go to see her. You promised each other that you won’t be resentful to the other, whatever the ending of this game is.

So you think nothing more than being a recomfort to your girlfriend when you arrive next to her.

“Hi” you say softly.

You don’t know if Alexia realized your presence before you talk, but the eyes she lays on you aren’t really friendly. But you decide not to stress about it, kneeling next to her to put a comforting hand on her arm.

“You played very well. I’m so proud of you for the way you leaded your team. And this goal was something else.”

You smile, referring to the second goal, a real banger from Alexia. She doesn’t answer anything, so you just continue talking.

“You can be proud of yourself too, you know? You did everything you could and gave all you could. It’s –“

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

Alexia doesn’t look at you when she cuts you, but you can tell how angry she is just with the tone of her voice. You are surprised enough to stay quiet and she continues.

“Don’t act like you have all the merits on this win. Your team is lucky that some girls are injured and that we don’t have our usual team playing tonight. If we had all the players, we would have crush you. Don’t take your win for what it’s not. You are just lucky, this has nothing to do with talent.”

Well, you didn’t expect that. Alexia has always been supportive of you, but more generally she always has been respectful and fair play to her opponents. You realize that there is Leila and Patri standing behind you when Alexia gets up to go somewhere else.

“Alexia.” Patri says in a tone of reproach.

But your girlfriend doesn’t answer anything, still walking to the Barcelona’s bench. You can only look at her leaving, stunned by her reaction. You take Leila’s hand who helps you to get up.

“Don’t listen to her” Patri says before hugging you. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you” you mumble.

Leila hugs you tightly too, not without looking at Alexia with reproach too. After that, the ceremony has a bitter taste for you, to be honest. It can’t be seen on picture, you are smiling between Alanna Kennedy and Laia, raising the cup or kissing it. Or being kissed on the head by Laia.

But in reality, you just want to talk to your girlfriend. She didn’t look at you when she passed between the two lines of your team when she goes to take her silver medals. And then she just went to the locker room, not even watching you raise the cup. It hurts, as much as her words did.

But you try to be understanding, you know how bad your girlfriend deal with the idea of losing anything, probably taking all the mistakes on herself. You manage to catch her, hair down and wet, before she leaves with her teammates to take the bus to go back to her hotel.

“Alexia!” you call her.

You don’t see her sigh and roll her eyes, which is good otherwise you probably will be hurt a little more. She was walking with Irene and Ona and turn around to look at you. You already talked with the two others after the game, so you smile back at them when they smile to you before leaving both of you.

“What do you want?” Alexia says harshly.

You are a little stunned, by the tone of her voice and the question. But you don’t say anything, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach. Alexia never talked to you that way. You almost never fought since you are together.

“Talk to you? Can we at least have some minutes together?”

There is a moment of silence.

“No. I don’t want to talk or see you right now.”

********

The celebrations are strange after that. You make all the efforts you can to keep a smile on your face and not ruin your teammate’s joy. Alanna and Leila are looking at you with intensity and you’re pretty sure that Leila told to Alanna what happened between you and Alexia. But you manage to keep them away from you enough to be able to leave as soon as Kerstin.

You tried several times to call Ale when you go back to your hotel, but she doesn’t answer. You prefer to think that she’s asleep and not ignoring you. You send her a message after that, hopping to have an answer during the night or in the morning.

You didn’t.

The morning after, when you wake up, you realize that there is no message from Alexia. Your social media are full of notifications but nothing from your girlfriend. You haven’t post anything either, not wanting to upset your girlfriend even more.

You were supposed to stay in Paris, where the finale was played, together for two days before going back to Barcelona. But with Alexia not giving you any news, you are really scared that she chose to go back to Barcelona without you.

After reading the list of your friends in the Barcelona’s team, you chose to try to call Ona. You can’t help but smirk when you hear Lucy’s voice instead of the Spaniard. But your friend comes several seconds after, and you are finally able to ask if she has news from Alexia.

You are relieved to learn that she’s still in Paris, and even more when Ona accepts to make you sneak in the hotel. Your plan is to go buy some flowers and chocolate for your girlfriend; this is her guilty pleasure. You discovered that during the first weeks of dating her.

After some research, you chose the best chocolate shop around your hotel and go to it to buy some. You take some time to select them, being sure that Alexia will enjoy every single one of them. When you are happy with it, you pay the box but add a cute white teddy bear sitting next to the cashier. No one seems to recognize you, which you are glad for. Like this you can take all the time you want.

You decide to walk to go to the florist, situated between the chocolate shop and Alexia’s hotel. The weather is great, sunny but not too hot. It’s still hotter than Manchester though.

The florist is very nice, and you look around while she’s serving other people who were already here when you arrived, right now it’s a family with a small girl smiling at you. You love the smell in here. The roses are amazing, and you ask the florist something with red roses in it. You look at her ease to make a wonderful bouquet with amazement.

“Tout le monde les mains en l’air !“

You hear the shout before you see the man, but the sweet florist’s face is suddenly very white. You don’t understand what was told, so you turn around to look what is happening.

There is a man with his face hidden behind a mask who is pointing a gun in your direction. You are glad that the family with the cute toddler left.

“A genoux!”

You don’t understand and you have to look around to know what he’s asking. The other raised their arms and are now kneeling, while you are still standing without moving.

That seems to make the man very mad. When you turn your eyes to him once again, he says something that might be a swear word. Then there is a sound of gunfire and the pain you feel is worst than anything you felt in your life.

You hit your head hard on the ground and suddenly the people around are screaming, but you don’t understand why. They are talking in French, and you have trouble to understand anything. It seems to you that the man got the money he wanted before leaving. The rush in your ears is very unpleasant and when you look at your chest, you realize that there is a big, red spot on your white shirt.

Suddenly there is a woman kneeling next to you, grabbing your face to make you look at her. It’s the florist.

“Hey! We called the ambulance, they are coming, ok? Stay awake, please.”

“I need to call Alexia” you breath, while taking your phone from your pocket.

“OK. I’ll press something on your stomach to stop the bleeding, ok?”

You just nod. Your hands are shaking while you open your phone, and your vision is blur when you look for your girlfriend’s number. It’s not hard to find though, she’s on the top of your list. You let the phone ring for several longs minutes before accepting the fact that Alexia won’t answer.

“She’s maybe still asleep” the girl points.

“No” you whisper shakily. “She’s mad at me. Those were supposed to be gifts for her”

“I’m sure she’ll love it”

You start to have trouble to breath. You close your eyes and try to take a big breath. You start to feel anxious too. Are you going to die without having heard your girlfriend’s voice a last time? Without being able to tell her how much you love her, how much she means for you?

You suddenly feels very tired, you understand what it’s mean. Fighting to open your eyes, you look for the woman’s eyes before talking. It seems like you don’t speak very loud, because she leans on you to understand.

“Will you tell her that I love her? Please. She always meant the world to me and I’m sorry that she’s so upset. Will you tell her?”

The woman’s eyes are wet when she talks to you.

“You will tell her yourself, Sweetheart.”

You know you won’t be able to. So you need her to promise you.

“Please. There are no words strong enough, but I love her more than anything. Will you give her my presents too? I wrote a card with the bear”

Your words are hard to pronounce, but you manage to say every single one of them, being sure to be understand. The woman nods and you feel relieved.

“I’m sure she loves you too.”

The woman cup your face and you decide to believe her. You close your eyes again and let yourself being wrapped by the memories you have with Alexia. The best of your life.

********

Alexia is sitting in a chair, her head in her hands. Everything seems unreal. Her eyes are red from crying, her throat is dry, and her head is pounding painfully. And she wonders if her breathing will be normal again at a moment.

She feels awful.

She was the worst girlfriend in the world for you and you never deserved it. You took the time to find her to talk to her even if you were probably drunk with the adrenaline of the win. You said sweet words to her, took the time to comfort her and she still had this behavior.

To be fair to her, she was really trying to find a way to come back to you to apologize. She was showering when you tried to call her after being shot, not knowing that you already made a plan with Ona to come to her.

Then, she received the worst call of her life. She’s the number one on your emergency calls so the hospital you were transferred to call her as soon as they could. It was three days ago, and she never left this room since.

You had a surgery and when she arrived in your room at first, you weren’t even here. Then they bring you in it and she learned that you probably won’t make it. But it’s been three days, and you are still here, your brain seems to still work correctly, and your heart is still beating.

You lost a lot of blood though and several of your organs got touched by the bullet. You are healing and it’s only because you are an athlete and in a very good shape that you are still alive.

Just when she thought that nothing could get worse, she received a visit that she didn’t except. She frowns at first when a cute girl entered your room with a teddy bear, a chocolate box and flowers. But then the florist explained to her what you ask her to do and that the precise moment where Alexia lost it.

You parents and Alexia’s mother join you in the hospital to be there for you, but for Alexia too. Ale’s mother never managed to get Alexia out of your room. Alexia sleep on the chair, Alexia eats the awful hospital’s food, Alexia takes shower in the bathroom of your room.

Sometimes she cries, sometimes she just looks at you. No one never heard her voice since she’s here. She’s so hurt that she feels like she can’t speak anymore. She only speaks to you when you both are alone. She’s so hurt, too, that she wants to rip her heart of her chest.

Alexia lost track of time, her mother and your parents left several hours ago now, and the sky is dark. The bips from the monitoring are still in the background, but Alexia doesn’t pay attention to them anymore. Unless they are making strange sounds, like yesterday. Your heart was suddenly in great difficulty.

The nurses explain to her after having stabilized you that it’s because your body need a lot to heal, and it could be hard for your heart.

The Spaniard keeps thinking that her behavior probably had hurt your heart so much that she’s responsible of your state. She is wrong of course, even if she was bad after the game, it’s not in any case of her fault.

When Alexia raises her head again to look at you, you are still with your eyes closed, your skin paler than ever. You are Spanish too, you have a natural tan skin, but now you look… ill. Alexia hates it.

“Mi Amor” she whispers while taking your hand in hers, her throat hurts when she talks. “I know you are doing everything you can to heal and come back. You don’t know what your life means to a lot of people here. Your parents, your family, your friends, your fans… Me, of course. But I don’t know if you steel want me after everything that happened. You got hurt because of me.”

If she wasn’t a little shit, you wouldn’t have been in this flower shop. That’s what she shouts to her sister when Alba tried to make her leave your room. Tears are rolling again on her cheeks, and you would probably kiss them if you were awake.

“I am so sorry. I’ll give everything to be at your place. I’m not able to ask it, but please come back. I need you so much. I don’t know how I am supposed to continue without you. You weren’t at Barcelona, but it’s seems like you are everywhere every time. Everything makes me think about you. I need you. Please. I’m so sorry.”

Alexia lost her father several years ago and it was heartbreaking, of course. Her father was her model when she was younger. Her guide. But you, you are the love of her life and she is convinced that she won’t survive your lost.

“Take the time you need to heal and then I’ll do everything for you to forgive me.”

Tears are rolling freely on her face, but she doesn’t care anymore since a very long time. She rather kisses your hand, relieved to feel the warm of your skin on her lips. Alexia frowns slightly while looking at your fingers though. They had to remove the ring you were usually wearing on your finger; the one Alexia offered you for your one year together. Alexia wears it around her neck on her chain, her fingers being too big to wear it on her finger.

“I love you. I’ll stay with you every second until you wake up.”

She means it and she did it. Even when they were other games played, she never left your side. They talked about transferring you in England, where you live, but Alexia refused, and your parents agreed with her. They never doubt about the love Alexia had for you; you never hide from them how good Alexia treated you during your time together.

You weren’t really aware of that to be honest. You were somewhere over the rainbow, far away from your girlfriend and the one you love. Even if it isn’t the case for Alexia, it’s better for you. Seeing Alexia’s distress would probably break you. You sometimes feel lighter, but you like to think that it’s the time when Alexia takes your hand or kiss it.

********

“We would like to make her try to breath without monitoring. We need to see if she’s able to breath alone.”

“No.”

Alexia’s answer is harsh and cold, but her mother puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Your mother is more diplomatic about her answer.

“Isn’t it risky?”

“Everything is risky” the doctor says, trying to ignore Alexia’s glare. “But her organs are better, and we need to revise her treatment. We will stop the monitoring for an hour, and we will check her oxygen constantly during the process.”

“What if she stops breathing?” Alexia asks.

“The chances are very rare. In fact,…”

“What. If. She. Stops. Breathing.”

Your father smirks when your girlfriend talks again, carefully articulating each of her words with cold anger. He always loved Alexia and he probably loves her even more right now.

“We will put her back on monitoring and try something else.”

Alexia snorts and crosses her arms on her chest. She hates that idea; she hates the idea that they are putting you in danger without any reason. She doesn’t say that it’s bullshit just because her mother is here and she is always careful about the words she chooses when Eli is around.

“I won’t leave her side a single second” she rather informs your medical team.

She doesn’t when they try, her eyes being on the screen with the indicator of your oxygen in your body or on your chest, watching it raise every single time. When one hour is passed and you are still breathing normally, she feels a little better. The medical team decided to let you like this for now, wanting to see if you can make the night.

The night pass and you are still breathing. Then a whole day.

“I’m so proud of you” Alexia whispered against your forehead before kissing it softly.

She explained to her mother how she treated you the next time you saw her, the guilt was eating her alive. Her mother didn’t try to tell her that she’s wrong to feel that way, Eli agreed with Alexia about how bad she was. She nevertheless comforts her daughter with words she knew were true. She remembers to Alexia how much you love her and that you still went to grab her presents before wanting to come to her.

Three days without monitoring and you are still breathing like you are peacefully sleeping. They are still feeding you with your catheter but other than that you don’t need anything to be alive.

Everything was fine and that’s why she panicked when you start to whine suddenly. Hands shaking, she jumps from her chair looking around before pressing the button to call the nurses. She doesn’t know what she managed to say, but the nurses start to talk way to fast in French, one of them taking her phone to call the doctor.

“What is happening?” Alexia asks, her breath almost impossible to take.

“We need you to leave the room for a little time” one of the nurses asks her.

“No way!”

“Alexia…”

Eli’s voice makes her daughter looks around, but the blond doesn’t move. She just shakes her head, informing every single person in the room that she won’t leave you. Bad or good news, she will be here. She needs to be here.

The three women don’t have the time to convince Alexia a little longer, because the doctor suddenly comes into your room, talking in French too and Alexia wonders if she will explode from frustration soon.

She sees several monitors coming into your room too and when your mother-in-law comes to your girlfriend to pass her arms around her shoulder, Alexia looks at her with lost eyes.

“Is that it? Is she dying?” she whispers.

Eli feels her heart break, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know. She just cups her daughter’s face and keep her face on her chest. Eli doesn’t move when Alexia grip her arms pretty hard, tightening her daughter even closer to her, trying to protect your girlfriend from another lost.

The next minutes were agonizing for your girlfriend, and she can’t open her mouth when the doctor comes next to her. She doesn’t understand all the bip from the different monitors around you. She doesn’t know if you are still alive or not.

“She is ok” he says at first, having learn to understand Alexia through the days, and your girlfriend feels like she might faint from relieving. “I think she is trying to wake up. The next hours will be decisive.”

After that, Alexia sits even closer to your face to have a better look at you. Every night her mother goes back to the house Alexia rent for her and your family so they can be close to you.

She hasn’t sleep since more than twenty-seven hours when you move again. But this time you open your eyes and look around. You seem scared, your eyes looking around you.

“Sh Bébé, can you hear me?” Alexia whispers after having regained some composure.

Her hand is on your face, soft like a feather. She manages to calm you quickly and you nod very softly. Alexia sees it anyway.

“You are at the hospital. You are safe, ok? Just try to breath a little slowly.”

You keep looking at her, trying your best to calm yourself. You don’t know how many minutes have passed before you swallow your saliva and open your mouth.

“No. Don’t talk. Keep your energy, ok?” Alexia whispers again.

As your memories come back, you are relieved to see that Alexia is by your side. She looks like she hasn’t sleep or eat in the last two weeks, but you don’t leave her face with your eyes, even when she moves to let the doctor and nurses check several things on you.

You tiredly let them do what they want with you and Alexia never left you with her eyes either. She watches the medical team to be sure they are doing things right with you. When they talk to you in English, you are way to tired to understand what they are saying. Luckily, your girlfriend is here to translate in Spanish.

“They want to know if you are hurt somewhere. Don’t shake your head, just close your eyes two times if you are hurt and one if you are ok.”

You blink slowly one time. You are not hurt, you are tired. Your answer seems to relieve everyone around and you close your eyes to rest when they are talking in English again. Alexia answers something and you trust her to make things right. They are talking for several minutes before the silence is here again.

You open your eyes suddenly, scared that Alexia has left too. But she’s here, typing on her phone, informing your parents and family that you are awake. She seems surprised to see you watching her when she puts her phone down.

“I thought you fall back asleep” she says softly, turning her body to look at you. “Do you want to drink?”

You blink once and she almost run to get you a glass of water from the bathroom. If you were able, you probably have laugh at her. You hope to have a little of water in your mouth can help you to talk. Alexia uses the buttons of the bed to make you seat and is very careful in every of her move to help you drink.

“They said a little bit at time”

You oblige and the feeling is amazing honestly. You look at your girlfriend and you focus on your sentence before talking, not wanting to waste any energy.

“Did you get my presents?”

Your voice is awful, but it’s not a surprise. You don’t really know since when you are here, without talking. But you need to know.

Alexia turns in your direction and suddenly her eyes are wet with tears and her hands are shaking.

“I did. That sweet girl came in here to give them to me the first day. The flowers are here” she points them. “Thank you, even if you shouldn’t needed to get me any of this. We will talk about it later, but Y/N/N I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. You are the sweetest and most perfect girl in the world. And I love you more than anything.”

“Alexia…”

She puts her finger on your lips, putting you in silence.

“Keep your energy for when your parents are coming.”

You roll briefly your eyes and for the first time in weeks, Alexia smiles. Not her sometimes awkward smile, who makes you think about that Friend’s episode where Chandler is supposed to smile for his engagement’s pictures. You always teased her about it.

“I love you more than anything too” you whisper when she takes her finger back. “Stay with me?”

“Of course I will”

You don’t know that she never left your side since you are here. Just like her mother several hours ago, she cups your face with extra care before stroking your hair. Right to her words, Alexia never left you for a second and wait for you to be able to go back to Barcelona for your recovery.

********

Several Months Later.

“What would you think about me coming to play in England?”

In shock, you spit out the pudding you were innocently eating. Like every morning since your hospitalization, Alexia and you are talking over FaceTime while you are eating your breakfast. Like always, Alexia just came back from her morning jogging and is eating her breakfast too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you ask, the choc passed.

“Me playing in Manchester? I really want to be close to you. I hate being so far away from you and being able to have you in my arms only for two weeks every two months.”

You probably are dreaming or hallucinating. You look at your girlfriend on your screen like if you were waiting for her to tell it’s only a joke. That’s what you are waiting, to be honest.

“Alexia, you will die in the English weather” you point. “And they are eating pudding and beans on a toast for breakfast here, I don’t know how you would survive.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes – just like she hates you do – and seems suddenly to find her tortilla very interesting.

“Don’t you want me there with you?” she asks with insecurity.

Since you got shot, you sometimes have the impression that she’s just waiting for you to break up with her. Something you will never do, how in the world are you supposed to live without your reason to breath?

“That’s not the point Cariño” you assure her with a smile. “I would love to be able to wake up every morning next to you.”

“What is it then?”

She’s almost pouting and you want to squeeze her cheeks with your hands.

“There is something I haven’t talked to you about.”

She looks panicked when she raises her eyes on your, turning your head back on you so quickly that you wonder if she hurts herself.

“What?”

“Don’t be mad, ok?” you begin, starting to eat your porridge again. “But I might have received an offer from Barcelona. I haven’t talk to you about yet because I wanted to be sure that it’s a real offer and that they are serious about it. City seems ok with me coming back to Barcelona, but nothing is signed for now.”

“Do you want it? Coming back?”

You look at your girlfriend thoughtfully. You understand where this question comes from, Alexia just wants to be sure that you are not doing things for her, but for you and your career.

“I miss Barcelona. I miss the Spanish weather, I miss my family… Sure I’ll miss Laia and Leila and the RFEF is still shit, but I want to give it a try.”

“Ok” Alexia smiles.

You can see that she’s thinking about something, but you don’t pressure her to talk. You know that it will comes when she will be ready. You finish your breakfast, talking about everything and nothing while Alexia looks at you from the corner of her eyes. The thoughts haunting her mind come out loud several minutes later.

“Are you going to go back to your parent’s?”

“Like living with them?” you raise an eyebrow before continuing when Alexia nods. “No, of course not. I’m 24 years old, I’m way to old to leave with my parents again” you laugh softly. “Why?”

“I was thinking that there’s enough room in my closet for both of us. If you want it.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you smile tenderly.

“Yes, if you want to?”

“I would love it, Ale.”

______________________________________________________________

To be honest with you I wanted to make R died but I can't stand a sad Alexia.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days

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last set of tsumsitter ssr groovies 👀

THE TIME HAS COME

First is Pomefiore!!

The trio is framed by a border of colorful lights, which reminds me a lot of old-fashioned movie theater signs (though not as colorful). If you look closely at the top and bottom, it seems they are posed for a candid photograph and it’s being posted to Magicam or something?? Rook and Epel look super crisp here, which I love!! I think Epel is posing with his hands held behind his back. This paired with his smile and the slight bird’s eye view of his face makes him look super cute please don’t beat me up for saying that, Epel. And Rook is being showy and familiar as usual, even putting one hand on Vil’s shoulder. Vil isn’t cringing or uncomfortable with it, which goes to show that he and Rook are truly good friends.

As for Vil, it’s rare to see him posed casually like this. Most of his cards feature him posed in very “model”-like and mature ways, so to have just one hand on hip, leaning forward slightly, and gripping his grimoire is unique for him (I mostly associate this pose with Ace, lol). His smile is quite casual too—it’s not quite the full catty smirk he has in his live2D model, it’s a lot more subtle and playful.

BahacTeHWWRVwkkwwm YHE VIL TSUM STeALS THE SHOW ThoUGH 😭 (You can tell it’s smiling despite the lack of a visible mouth) from how its eyes!! The placement of the Tsum is also funny. With Pomefiore’s peacock throne in the background, it forms sort of an angelic halo around… the sentient stuffed toy… Proof that Tsum Vil is a heavenly being/j

Next is Ignihyde!!

The Shroud brothers return to Cyberspace, that blue void with tons of ethereal floating screens, particle effects, and code www I don’t know what those three pink balls of flame are in the background, but there being three of them is a consistent theme for Ignihyde. Three pink fireballs, three Shroud brothers, three heads of Cerberus! I wish I could say more here, but I’m basically a Malleus when it comes to tech—

Idia’s pose isn’t anything we haven’t seen before (just at different angles of it, I suppose). But!! It feels different here and adding Ortho definitely adds to it. The Pokémon trainer energy of the initial art carries over to the Groovy. Idia looks like a smug, tough trainer looking down on you with a cocky grin and his face half-shadowed.

Ortho floats almost menacingly next to his big brother, his face entirely shadowed. His aura is like a phantom (fitting) or even like a Pokémon on standby waiting for the chance to fire off a Hyper Beam. This might be me overthinking things, but I wonder if the amount of light on the brothers’ faces references the original Ortho. Robo!Ortho’s face is entirely darkened because his parallel has passed on. Idia’s face is only partially shadowed because while he was close to stepping over to the “other side”, he ultimately found hope and was able to continue living, this time for himself and on his own terms.

I LIKE HoW TSUM IDIA HAS ITS OWN sCREEN TO WORK OFF OF TOO 😭 IBRO IS MAkING A sUS FACE TOO, IT’S GLEEfUL AbOUT WhAtEVRr it’S UP TO… That makes me think that it’s hard at work… I dunno, hacking something systems fnksgwiwozlapaeb Watch out, a Tsum near you might infect your computer and then bounce away happily after ruining all your programs and files.

Last but not least… Diasomnia!! THIS ONE’S MY fAVORITE OF THE SSR TSUMSITTER GROUP, WHICH I WAs NOT EXPecTING AT ALL 🤡

The violet backlight is fantastic—it adds an interesting lighting to the illustration and highlights the green flames and Silver and Sebek’s bright eyes. And speaking of Sebek and Silver, LOOK AT THEM JUST LOOK AT THEM???????? More specifically, Sebek’s arms (they look ultra meaty somehow) and Silver’s whole face(that lopsided smile??? HELLO?????)!! On either side of Malleus like that… Peak bodyguard, I REPEAT, PEAK BODYGUARD

With Lilia bringing up the rear, the three form a perfect squad to surround and to protect their liege. cbsjsbevejwlw I like that Lilia is different than Silver and Sebek; he’s hanging out upside down (as he usually does) and bears a huuuge grin, completely having fun in the moment. (… How does his hat stay on like that when he’s fighting gravity though?)

Up front and center is Malleus of course! He’s wielding his spindle staff like a king might a scepter. This with his fierce face gives the impression of a leader marching into battle with his retainers. You get a real good shot of his teeth and reptilian eyes here which I’m sure the Malleus stans are going feral for right now—and with the limelight shining down on him, he looks almost hopeful for once instead of downtrodden or gloomy.

THE TSUM MALLEUS LOOKS SO FUNKY PLACED tHERE cnsnwveuxvDFsFjqk Just. Cheekily There on Malleus’s shoulder… Because Maleficent and Diablo is a known combination, the image of those two as master and minion comes to mind. Imagine Malleus blasting you with lightning, pausing to listen to his Tsum whispering a suggestion into his ear, and then telling you the Tsum has advised that he blast you with a second strike 💀

Aaaaaah, the Tsumsitter SSR Groovies are some of the best in this game 😭 So glad they’re finally over though, it’s stressful saving rolls for what you know would be a limited event with multiple SSR banners, lol

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okwonyo · 3 days

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when they are not your bias.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader six hundred established relationship ⠀⎯⠀⠀ not proof-read kissing skinship slight jealousy ( other ) ；𝓬lick

heeseung would find himself be extremely surprised, shocked even. because, what do you mean, he is not his girlfriend’s bias？would try to convince that whoever is your bias is nothing compared to him, “i’m better, i swear,” and them, you would tell him that you can’t bias him because he is too much of a flirt. would coo at you instantly, “aw ~ it’s only because my baby is jealous,” — you would bias him even less after that.

jay would be a little bit hurt in his ego. although, he knows he is your boyfriend so he is still your favorite, but he would scold you for wanting another’s member photo-card more than his. “i already have a lot of pictures of you, love, even the prettiest one,” you would reassure him, hugging him from behind as he does the dishes. would only hum at you, a bit sulkily, he would come back to being all lovey dovey with you two minutes after.

jake would be devastated after you announce him the bad news. would be talking about how you both should match with each other’s photocard in your phone cases — would feel his universe crumble right when you tell him that you don’t have any of his photo cards. “does that mean that you hate me？i can’t believe this,” then would stare at you with his big, puppy, teary eyes until you give in and tell him that he was always your favorite member.

sunghoon would stare at you with nothing but pure disbelief in his eyes, “w-what do you mean i’m not your bias？who else but your boyfriend could be your bias？don’t tell me it’s ...” and whatever you would ask him to do will be denied with something along the line of ‘why won’t you ask your bias to do it’ for several days. what would be really funny is the fact that he would do the very thing you asked him to do after saying these few words with a huff. he may not he your bias but he is your boyfriend, after all.

sunoo would not be phased at all. it would at least seem like the news doesn’t bother him that much. would just react with a surprised ‘oh ! alright then ..’ and then he would start talking about something completely different. secretly, he would be plotting on the day he could break our heart just the way you did with his. “well, you are not really my favorite either,” he would tell you completely out of no where, and you would be a bit confused— “..okay?”

jungwon would think you are joking at first. with a gentle chuckle, he would brush it off the first time to tell him that another member but him is your bias. “you were really serious?” he would ask with a nervous laugh the next time it happens. would do something super annoying, for instance; tickling you until you tell him he was always your favorite member. you would find yourself all red in the face and out of breath because of him, “that’s what i thought,” he would grin, before giving you a kiss.

riki would just accept his fate, although he would be a bit hurt in his ego. would immediately go silent for a while, rethinking all his life decisions and wondering what did he ever do or not do to be your bias. after a while, he would decide that he doesn’t care. would playfully come bump his hip in yours while you do the dishes, “you are so slow,” and you would only huff, responding with, “that’s why you are not my bias, pft,”

taglist open— this is still not manbun jake but ..

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satoruluvies · 2 days

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PETTY FIGHTS (AND PRETTY MAKEUPS?)

ꨄ︎ summary. fighting and possibly making up with the jjk men — gojo, geto, nanami and toji [separate]

ꨄ︎ desc. implied fem!reader, angst(ish) to fluff¿ , sfw, also hurt to comfort?, reader always walks out oops, reader is called 'doll' in toji's because that's just so him. idk how many words this has because i directly wrote it on this app lol.

ꨄ︎ notes. this has been in my mind since a while ago i had to get it off my head but why is it so much better in my mind jshshdjd oh also i wanted to do choso and sukuna but i ran out of petty arguments. so.

GOJO

"you're overworking again."

maybe that wasn't the best way to welcome your boyfriend after he came home late for the fourth time this week. but he wasn't listening and even though you knew it was unreasonable, certain thoughts about his company plagued your mind.

"can we not do this ?" satoru pinched his nose bridge, something he always does when his headache gets too severe.

"when else would we do this? you're never home, always at work." he only sighs heavily at your question, leaning against the doorframe.

"im really really tired right now." satoru removes his blindfold, his eyes now a dull blue instead of the usual bright cerulean ones.

you wanted to press on and tell him off about how he ignored his own fatigue for his work but seeing the state he's in, how could you?

you only nod at his words and made your way towards your shared bedroom, his heavy footsteps followed you soon after.

satoru joined you in bed after showering all while you pondered about your relationship. you hate your mind for feeding you doubts about it at all yet you couldn't help it either.

what if he's using work as an excuse to avoid you? what if he's growing tired of you as well? what if he's chea-

your thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand encircling your waist and pulling you closer against his warm chest, the scent of shampoo lingering in the air.

"i'm sorry" his voice was in hushed tones but the way it was delivered was loud and clear.

"things have been hectic lately i just couldn't help it" he nuzzled his face onto your neck.

"i was just worried you know." your fingers played with his that were now intertwined.

"i know you are and im so thankful" he scoots away just a little only to turn you so that you were now facing him instead of the wall. "i wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here."

his hands caressed your face, the touch so delicate it sends shivers down your spine. the gentle smile he had despite the hollow eyes and dark circles adjoining it, melted all your doubts away.

"how's your headache?"

"fine, now that you're here." you only scoff at his words while he chuckled lazily.

"sleep."

"alright. goodnight, i love you" he pulls you closer still, your face against his chest as he landed a light kiss on top of your head.

"i love you too" you mumble, feeling vibrations as satoru hums contently. the both of you drifted to sleep in each other's arms, leaving the problems for tomorrow.

GETO

"you lied to me." you spat your words at him, not a single tone of empathy in them.

"because i know you'd react like this."

"fucking jerk" you pushed him away trying to brush past him but he caught you by your wrist and turned you to face him.

"you're not walking away we're talking" suguru's words came off as harsh but really, he was desperate.

"i have nothing to say to you" your tear filled eyes and clenched teeth were unkind but he fucked up so that's what he deserved right?

"then listen to me because i have lots." when you make no attempt to walk away this time, his grip loosens and he mentally notes that he would take care of your wrist after he's done with the problem at hand.

"i only said she was my friend because... she used to be. i didn't specify that she was my past lover because i knew you'd be filled with countless questions that i dont necessarily want you knowing yet."

you look away, he just admitted to lying to you no matter what reason. your stomach churns and your heart sinks a little deeper.

"i promise i was going to tell you after i took care of everything so that i can confidently say that you have nothing to worry about."

the way your gaze wandered all across the floor and unmeeting his apologetic ones made suguru's heart ache.

"i only met up with her to let her know that she has no place in my life anymore and to stop trying to contact me. that was all i swear."

"couldn't... couldn't you have told her through text or something?"

"i did, numerous times. but she still wouldn't stop and even found ways to reach out after i blocked her everywhere. this was my last resort too i didnt want to do this either."

suguru's shoulders slumped in defeat. "i seriously don't want to lose you please i'm so sorry for lying to you."

"what about all the questions i have? will you answer them now?"

"each and every one." he assures "i have nothing to hide from you anymore."

you believe him don't you?

NANAMI

"did you really have to do that?" oh he did not just say that. you flung your handbag at him only for him to catch it with ease.

you angrily stomp away from him to— well, wherever he wasn't there. he rushes your way and jolts you back by your arms, a little too hard.

nanami's eyes widened at the realisation and his grip slightly loosens but he still hasn't let go.

"im sorry for hurting you" nanami immediately apologises. he takes off his signature beige coat that he always wears, and proceeds to drape it over your shoulders. and you let him, he thanks you for it in his mind.

"im also sorry for the harsh words. that wasn't very rational of me."

"no it wasn't" you cross your arms in annoyance, his coat shielding you from the cold night air.

the both of you were at a business party and you went as his date. it was there where you heard a subordinate being particularly sarcastic about your boyfriend which pissed you off.

okay, maybe it wasn't so logical to "accidentally" spill your wine on his shirt but he was the one that blew it out of proportion and shouted at you, leaving you to the rescue of none other than your beloved boyfriend.

"i was only defending you" you huffed stubbornly.

"and im flattered by it but that wasn't the proper way to deal with him."

"oh? then what was the proper way to deal with him exactly?"

nanami just sighs. he knows where you're coming from and if it was your subordinate that was badmouthing you, he was sure he'd do the same, if not worse.

"you should've told me and let me take care of it. i don't want anybody to speak to you in such a way, ever." just thinking about him yelling at you made his blood boil.

all this time you thought nanami was saying you overreacted but really, he was just angry at the man who disrespected you and himself.

he fixes his tie and regains his composure, closing the distance between you both as he caresses the same spot on your arms where he had grabbed just before.

"does it still hurt?" his gaze was soft and apologetic. you shook your head a 'no' and you could feel him exhale in relief.

"lets go home and have a long relaxing bath" you beam at him, he loves the idea.

before you could make your way towards the car though, nanami lifts you in his arms effortlessly.

he noticed how you were stomping earlier and your steps indicating the very obvious discomfort on your feet from the formal shoes you wore. he just knows you too well.

TOJI

"you're seriously going to be this petty?" his words only fueled the anger pulsing through your veins. it was only reasonable to be furious when he's late to the date you have been planning for the past week right? why can't he see that?

"stop the fucking silent treatment and talk to me" toji huffed, lingering next to you while you get undressed.

still no words or acknowledgement came from you. only the loud slam of your closet could be heard as you changed to your pajamas with toji observing you expectantly. he was upset but boy, were you so beautiful.

his short admiration was snapped away when he saw you aggressively taking a blanket and heading towards the living room. he stops your movements short, his hands finding themselves on your arms.

"and where do you think you're going?" your eyes finally met his in an angry glare before you shook his hand off and made your way to the couch.

your little stumps of anger were endearing to toji but he couldn't help the sigh that left his chest. why were you being so stubborn?

that's not stopping him though; he follows soonafter and hovered next to the couch but again, you didn't even admit to his presence and only avoided it by turning away from him.

"not even gonna give me a chance to explain?" silence. alright he's had enough.

not even a second has passed when you felt big strong arms on your back and around your waist, lifting you so casually.

you're not relenting either, you try to struggle free all while knowing you had no chance against your boyfriend. a hard hit landed on his chest with all your might only earning a chuckle from him.

"let me go." ah finally, one barrier has been broken.

"nah doll. if yer gonna be petty, you'll be petty next t’ me" he carries you back to your bedroom. in the midst of soft blankets and his warm hugs, maybe you'll forgive him just this once?

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f1goat · 2 days

Text

roommates ; lando norris + part seven

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

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

You let out an annoyed grunt when you wake up for the second time that night. Lando is still pressed up against your body. It’s nice, you’re more then comfortable with him cuddling you like this, but still you can’t seem to fall asleep. Every time you think you’ve finally fallen asleep, you wake up only a bit of time later. Maybe it’s your thoughts who keep you awake. There did happen a lot tonight after all. You relive the earlier happenings. Every time you think about what happened between Lando and you, you feel yourself getting heated.

Before you can relive every moment for the tenth time this night, Lando wakes up as well. You feel him move against your body. It’s hard to miss how his cock grinds over your ass. Fuck, you feel yourself getting even more bothered right now. Are you really getting aroused again just because of this? Then a thought pops up in your head, could it be that you’re still too horny to sleep? It happened to you before, so it wouldn’t surprise you now that you think about it.

“Can’t sleep babygirl?” Lando asks you with a raspy voice. That’s not making things better. Since when can he sound this hot?

“No,” you softly confirm.

“Something that’s keeping you awake?” Lando continues to ask.

You don’t reply verbally. It’s not like you can tell Lando that you’re still horny, right? And you’re not even sure about that being the problem, it can also be because of everything that happened. Your mind is a mess right now trying to progress everything from tonight.

“Or do you want to sleep in your own bed?” Lando asks you a bit nervous. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed you to sleep here.

This time you’re fast to respond. “No,” you reassure him quickly, “I uh, I don’t know what’s keeping me awake.”

“Regret?” Lando continues to ask you. He feels nervous while waiting for your answer. What if you tell him that you regret what happened?

In the mean time you’re thinking about what to say. Words are getting mixed up in your head. You don’t regret what happened and you need Lando to know that as well, but you do however wonder what will be the result of that. And then you’re still feeling horny, which isn’t helping as well. You want to tell Lando all of that, but when you open your mouth it’s just one word that leaves your tongue.

“Horny.”

“Horny?” Lando asks you confused, “You can’t sleep because you’re horny?”

After saying it already, you can’t do anything else then confirm it. Slowly you nod your head to show Lando that being horny is in fact your problem right now. You see a small grin forming on Lando his face. He seems to like this answer.

“Oh babygirl,” Lando softly says, “Let me help you.”

“Please,” you beg.

You add more power to your words, by throwing the blankets of and moving yourself closer to Lando. Unsure you take place on his lap. You feel his hardened boner pressing against your thighs. Lando lets out a low grunt. “The things you’re doing to me princess,” he groans. You grind yourself on Lando his lap.

Lando tries to take you off his lap, but you deny him. “Let me make you feel good,” he mutters frustrated, but you just shake your head. “Babygirl,” he says with a stern voice. It almost works, but you hold your position in his lap. “I can’t do anything like this,” Lando adds.

“That’s the point,” you softly tell Lando, “This time I’m going make sure you feel good.”

Lando doesn’t know what overcomes him. Fuck, you’re incredibly hot already and when you’re saying things like that it only makes you hotter. You hover above him, making sure his boner is lined up with your entrance, before coming down again. It’s way more intense then earlier, you feel his dick sliding inside of you. Not that it’s hard, you’re still wet from thinking about earlier tonight.

“Fuck,” Lando whimpers, “You better wake me up for this a whole lot more.”

You don’t reply to his statement. For now you focus on riding Lando his cock and making it one of the best times out of his life. Something you believe you’re accomplishing, at least with how many moans are coming out of Lando is seems so.

While looking at Lando, you increase your pace a bit. You can’t seam to tear your eyes off from Lando. He looks amazing like this. There’s some sort of carefree look on his face, he seems to be focused on the pleasure and nothing else right now. Of course, you have always found him hot, but now he seems even more beautiful.

“Babygirl,” Lando moans, “I’m getting close.”

He lets his finger find your clitoris. Teasingly he circles onto it. It causes you to let out a moan. That only seems to motivate Lando to continue his movements, only this time he increases his pace. His other hand finds it’s way to your ass, harshly he takes it into his hand. All of this make sure that you’re getting closer to your orgasm as well.

“Kiss me,” Lando grunts. You do what he says. Carefully you move your head down to make sure you can press your lips against Lando’s. He’s quick to react to your movements. Within seconds he is firmly kissing you back and sliding his tongue into your mouth. The two of you battle for dominance for a couple seconds, but Lando is quick to win again. He feels a moan from you vibrating against his lips.

When you pull back from the kiss, it’s only to tell Lando how close you are. Instead of telling you to come, Lando does to opposite.

“Ask me,” Lando instructs you, “Ask me if you can orgasm.”

You show Lando a surprised look. At first you want to tell him to fuck off, but when you start thinking about it a bit more, it starts to sound hot. Before you can react, Lando continues to talk to you.

“Such a brat,” he whimpers while slowing down his movements on your clit, “Need you to be my brat.”

You know that boys don’t mean things they say during sex, but you can’t help yourself and start to feel fluttered. You want nothing more then for Lando to mean everything he’s saying right now.

What you don’t know, is that Lando is one of the exceptions. He means every word of what he just told you.

“Can I orgasm?” You shyly ask Lando.

“No,” He answers, “Not like this, do your best.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Can I please orgasm Lan?”

“Better,” Lando praises you, “Come for me, my good girl.”

That’s all it takes for you to let go. Lando is quick to follow you. When you try to remove yourself from his body and also his dick, Lando pins you down against his chest. “No,” he softly mutters, “Just sleep like this.” It sounds insane, but within seconds you have fallen asleep on Lando his chest.

The rest of the night you don’t wake up anymore. You’re sleeping rather peacefully.

The following morning, you have no idea how to start a conversation with Lando. Maybe because the both of you are still naked, maybe because his dick is hard again and makes your mouth water, or maybe because you have no idea how to confess your feelings to him. Not that you’re planning to confess, that would just be dumb. Lando is still a player.

When Lando wakes up, he barely feels different then you. The sight of your naked body on top of him, makes him aroused in no time. He knows that the two of you should talk, but for now he just wants to fuck you again. If you let him.

“Good morning babygirl,” Lando softly murmurs to you. He toys a bit with your hair while waiting for you to respond.

“Morning Lan,” you reply with a soft voice. You’re distracted already by Lando his raspy morning voice. That can’t be good. You know that you have to talk with Lando about what happened last night, because if you’re laying on him like this any longer you’d probably switch talking for sex. “I guess we have to talk?” You question him a bit nervous.

“Depends,” Lando replies, “Do you want to talk?”

You don’t know what to answer. No you don’t want to talk, you want Lando to rail you until you can’t walk anymore. Although you guess that you’re already pretty close to that after last night. But you know that the two of you have to talk, otherwise this will turn into an even bigger mess.

“I guess we have to,” you tell him, “because I don’t know what will happen otherwise.”

Lando sighs softly. “How do you think about all of this?” He asks you curious.

His question silences you again. Why is he only asking hard questions this morning? You haven’t even had the time to think about all of this. Maybe it would be smarter to take a moment for yourself and think everything over instead of already discussing everything.

“I don’t know,” you confess.

“Then let’s talk later,” Lando suggests. It humors you how he has the exact same idea as you. You show Lando a small smile and tell him that you agree with his idea. Lando presses a soft kiss against your cheek as answer.

Would it be bad to have sex with him another time? Like, now.

Lando is doing everything in his power to stop himself from trying to have sex with you again. But when he notices the glance in your eyes and the way you bite your own lip, he almost loses it. He tries to calm himself down again, but when he feels your hands on his chest he knows that it has no use.

“Babygirl,” he grunts, “If I were you I’d stop doing those things, because otherwise I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk for the rest of the day.”

You press a small kiss against the corner of his mouth before grinning. “What’s stopping you?” You ask Lando.

In no time you’re laying underneath him again. It’s not like this is helping your situation at all, but it feels a lot better then thinking about what’s happening between Lando and you.

+++

“Sooo,” you drag the word for as long as you can manage, to afraid to continue your sentence and what will happen after. When Lando doesn’t reply, you do however finish your sentence. “Let’s talk,” you suggest nervously.

You have just gotten out of the shower. Finally you had some time to think about everything that happened. Not that it helped. You still have no idea how to continue now. It’s still unclear to you what you want. It’s scaring you that you feel attracted to Lando, in more then a physical way. It’s not like Lando wants a relationship with you. He’s a player. But, you need to know what you want as well. You can’t act like nothing happened between the two of you. You can’t act like you don’t want this to happen again. It’s unclear when you started having feelings for Lando, but in some weird way it feels like those feelings have been there forever.

“Let’s talk,” Lando confirms.

By saying those exact words, he leads the conversation back to you. Meaning you have to continue, to start the conversation that you’ve been dreading to do since this morning. You have no idea what to say. You don’t even know what you want. Suddenly a stressed feelings creeps up in your chest.

“Uhm,” you try to start, but you’re quick to stutter. There’s no full word coming out of your mouth right now. “I uh,” you continue, “I really don’t know how to go on from this.”

Lando is surprised by your words. After you told him it was a mistake last night, he expected the worst. So, this almost seems good. If it’s up to Lando you’re dating from now one, but he doesn’t think you want that was well.

“You can make me your boyfriend,” he eventually jokes. It does sound like a joke. His voice is lighthearted and his tone is jokingly. However, it’s not. It’s another form of self defense. He’s not ready to be rejected by you. You almost scoff because of his ‘joke’. An annoyed glance is send in his direction.

“I don’t think that’s what you want,” you sigh a bit annoyed. Lando almost asks you if it’s what you want, but he doesn’t dare to do so. “Look,” you continue to speak, “I don’t know how to go further from this. It’s not like I want to act if nothing happened, because I can’t simply forget about it. However, I have no clue how to act around you now.”

“Act the same as before,” Lando quickly states.

He surprises you. His words always seem to get you by surprise.

“What’s the same?” You ask Lando confused, “It’s not like I can have sex with you like yesterday whenever I feel like it.”

“Why not?” Lando questions you back, “If it’s up to me, you can. Just act however you want. I also don’t want to forget about last night and this morning.”

“How do you imagine this?”

Lando picks his next words carefully. He doesn’t want you to think it’s just sex, but he also doesn’t want to scare you off. “What if we just explore this a bit?” Lando asks you. It’s the only thing he dares to ask you, but it’s better then nothing.

“Explore what?” You question Lando, “The sex?”

“Not just that,” Lando quickly says, “We can explore us.”

“Sounds vague,” you joke, “but also good.”

Lando lets out a relieved sigh. He didn’t even know he was holding in this much breath. He can’t believe that you’re okay with this. In the meantime you show him a small smile. Lando can’t help himself and moves closer towards you. Softly he presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. It makes your smile grow.

“You’re cute,” Lando mutters more to himself then towards you.

“Cute?” You ask surprised. That’s not a word someone used to describe you before.

“So fucking cute,” Lando states.

In some weird way you can’t stop smiling after Lando said that. The two of you enjoy the short moment of silence. It’s Lando his phone who interrupts it. A thread of messages pops up on his screen. Without really meaning to do it, you read along with Lando. You read the messages coming from an unknown number. It’s a picture first. Lando doesn’t open the notifications. He doesn’t need to however. It’s pretty clear that it’s a nude. The messages underneath it tell you enough.

Lando doesn’t look at you while opening the notifications. When you see the picture, it is indeed a nude photograph from a girl. She seems beautiful. Fuck. You can’t even say that you’re surprised. Lando barely told you that he wanted to explore this with you and he already has a nude from someone. It’s almost funny how stupid you are.

Then Lando does something else that surprises you. He swipes on his phone and blocks the number. He throws his phone away from himself and focusses his attention on you.

“Lando?” You ask softly. He nods at you, waiting to hear your question. “What exactly are we doing?” You continue to ask.

“Exploring us,” Lando answers.

“What is us?” You question, “Us the friends with benefits?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” Lando replies.

“I don’t know,” you confess.

“Let me know when you do know princess,” Lando chuckles.

“What do you want?” You ask him back.

“Whatever you want,” Lando smiles, “but whatever it is, it’s exclusive. It’s only us.”

You show Lando another smile. Before you can tell him that exclusive sounds great, Lando is already talking about something else again. “Do you already have McLaren clothes?” He asks you.

“Sorry?” You ask confused.

“Or even better, clothing from my line?”

“For what?” You ask even more confused.

“The race,” Lando states as if it’s the most logical answer. “I told you right? You’re coming to the race with me, so we’re leaving tomorrow. And if you’re coming with me, I want you to wear my clothes.”

Why are those words making you feel all hot and bothered? You should stress right now about packing, but in some weird way you’re only focused on Lando. In no time your lips are on his while you position yourself on his lap.

This will be a good weekend.

“And,” Lando softly says after you pull back, “maybe after this weekend, you can tell me what we’re exploring exactly.”

You don’t answer to that. It’s not like you already know an answer. You focus your attention on Lando and making sure that he’s undressed in the next couple minutes.

a/n; let me know what you think!! <3

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