#to settle on. So like I only have five hours left to work on their piece. 😬

[screwpinecaprice]

I was trying to eat noodles neatly and for some reason I got sad midway. So I drew them messy eating a biscuit and a strawberry to combat sad noodle blues.

[shariasweet]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝐹𝓾ck y𝓞u 𝐛e𝐭𝓣er.ᐟ

s.jaeyun 𝒙 f.reader

𝓦c :::  5.9k   𐙚 𝓢harinote ::: this is like a play on my old roommate jake fic... I miss lilmashae bad smts y'all :(   𐙚    warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: roommate jake is superrr annoying & hardly considerate · multiple orgasms · teasing · oral (f) · cowgirl - missionary - all the positions · soobin (txt) mentioned (small suggestive scene with him?) · a little bit of dry humping · teasing · fingering (f) · slight degradation (he says something about her being in heat... that's it :/) - praise (jake confesses(?) mid-fuck) · unprotected sex - implied creampie - etc.

each night was worse than the last... every night—they got louder and louder... each girl seemed more desperate than the last.

none of them could top jake though.

you didn't know who had it worse... you, or them.

on one hand, he'd wear the poor girl's out, from late at night to sunrise he’d be fucking them to the hilt. but on the other... you had to hear it—their unbelievably loud pornographic screams and yelps. every. fucking. night.

the audacity of him... only a man so desperate, so shameless could face his roommate (or anyone) with such nonchalance knowing what he gets up to. you pinched your temples hearing the giggles trailing off behind the slam of your apartment's door. about time. his bedroom was one thing—but the living room? oh you couldn't wait to stick it to him…

"you look like shit." you groaned finally stepping foot outside of your bedroom, squinting your eyes at jake's smart remark. your roommate was undeniably handsome... which you take it he must be painfully aware of by the way he parades around barely clothed even after whatever 'lucky' girl has left.

with his stupid toned abs and honey skin... his gorgeous hair—face and his nose... god, that nose… not that you were staring, or into him or anything, but you’re just so sure his nose would nudge up against your—

"i wonder why..." playfully you lifted your hand to smack him on the side. "ouch! seriously? you're not really upset are you?"

"me? no way, but i do feel bad for that poor girl who just left." you grinned. "oh yeah?" jake leaned against the counter beside you as you stretched out for the cereal on the top shelf—only for him to grab it first. "thanks..." you took the box from his hands, emptying it into your bowl before spinning around to dip into the fridge.

"and yeah, you just about wore her out... this might be a new record," you scoffed. "even for you."

"it couldn't have been that bad, not as bad as last week when—"

"so you are self aware then?" you interjected, fixing him with a deadpan stare as you poured your milk. "i guess i am." the man chuckled, it was low—almost teasing as he resumed his spot against the counter.

silence settled between you as you focused on devouring your breakfast of fruity pebbles, but you could feel his eyes on you—carefully watching the way your spoon disappeared past your lips with each bite as his throat bobbed. "do you want some?" you arched a brow, ever so slightly smiling as you sauntered toward the dining table.

"nah," he said, shaking his head. "i'm heading to the gym. hoon wants to squeeze in a few arm workouts before his game tonight." "cool," you nodded, casually glancing at the clock above the door. 11:00 am.

"you coming home? or are you going straight to work after?" you watched as he turned around to face you. "i'm off," he shoved his hands into his pockets. "i’ll probably hang at hee’s with jay afterward though." you nodded again, and this time, your roommate disappeared into his bedroom—assumably to get ready for his ‘gym-date’ with sunghoon.

it was perfect.

if jake was going out with heeseung, he’d be gone for hours—five or six, easily. and if today was like any other saturday between him and sunghoon, their stupid little gym session would last around two hours.

you did the math in your head—jake’d be gone for a total of eight hours, leaving you home alone for… well, all day.

while your roommate might’ve been lacking in the shame department, you weren’t.

you were far more… modest than jake. though, your friends called it sneaky… regardless, you weren’t nearly as prude as jake believed you to be.

you didn’t hesitate to scurry back into your room after finishing up your breakfast. you’d slammed the door shut, heart pounding with anticipation as you snatched up your phone to fire off a text to soobin.

god, it’s been way too long.

normally, you’d be able to see him at least twice a month… but lately? who knew what was up with jake. he’d been impossible. every night, it was a different girl, loud and attention-seeking.

and when he wasn’t tangled up with some random frat-party hookup, he was hogging the apartment—sprawled out on the couch, glued to his game with heeseung, or buried in textbooks at the dinning room table. which, truthfully, wouldn't be a problem... if it weren't for soobin's four roommates.

point was, there was never a moment of privacy… nowhere for you and your fuck buddy to do what you did best—hook up. not with jake taking up every damn inch of the apartment… and certainly not with soobin’s four roommates lurking at every corner.

y/n: soobin ^_^ y/n: wyd later? 11:38 am

sb: hey y/nnie :)) sb: i should be free... what's up, pretty girl? 11:40 am

y/n: my roomate'll be out til late... want to come over? 11:43 am

s/b: yk i do s/b: i'll see you in an hour? 11:47 am

y/n: sounds good, soob :3 read 11:51 am

you grinned to yourself, feeling content.

finally.

you deserved this—maybe even more than jake did. he got his fill on a near-nightly basis while you’d been living in an unintended dry spell for months... though that was about to end.

lost in your thoughts, you hardly even registered the knock on your bedroom door until jake’s voice cut through the silence. "i'm heading out, y/n!"

"alright!" you called back, gnawing on your bottom lip as you listened for the soft click of the front door.

it really has been way too long.

soobin hadn’t been over in what felt like ages and the state of your apartment was proof enough of that... but cleaning was easy though—especially with the adrenaline of your pending dick-appointment practically buzzing through your veins.

fueled by anticipation, you breezed through each chore... from wiping down counters to fluffing pillows, and even lighting a candle to set the mood for the evening. before you knew it, you were in the shower, steam curdling around you as you carefully shaved your legs, scrubbing your skin until it was baby-smooth...

you froze with your heart pounding in your throat.

knock, knock!

with water still dripping from your skin, you heard the sound echo through the apartment. an hour had seemingly passed in no time, with your towel engulfed around your body, you peeked your head out from behind the bathroom door, "just a second!" you could hear soobin's muffled voice behind the thick wood of the door. "mh, take your time!" he called back.

quickly, you patted your skin dry, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and tugging a tank top over your still-damp hair.

finally, after a glance in the mirror, a couple spritzes of perfume, and a deep breath, you skipped out of the bathroom, smoothing your hands over any wrinkles in your shirt before swinging the door open.

"hi." a smile tugged at your lips, glancing up at the tall male in front of you—he looked even better than you'd imagined. whatever built up frustration you had burning in your stomach was begging to be let out. soobin chuckled, reaching out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “your hair’s wet.”

“oh! yeah, just got out of the shower.”

his grin widened as you stepped aside, inviting him in. “good to know.” he chuckled as he waltzed in behind you.

awkward as it may have seemed, it wasn't that way for long—the two of you exchanged in small talk before deciding to turn on a movie, casually catching up like friends rather than… whatever label some people might slap onto your arrangement. “how about this one?” you suggested, scrolling through the endless movie options presented before you.

soobin groaned dramatically, though the arm draping around your shoulders suggested he wasn’t all that bothered. “seriously? that one?” “yes, that one.” you scoffed, leaning into his chest. “it’s not like we’ll actually be watching it anyway.”

a smirk played on his lips. “i guess you’re right.”

without anymore time to think, his lips crashed onto yours. the plush of his lips molded against your own at a rhythm unique to the both of you. you found yourself straddling the brunette as he deepened the kiss, your fingers threaded through his hair, his own hands pawing at your sides whilst you grinded into him. "f-fuck." you sighed into his mouth, pleasure winding tight in your core.. you dove into his lips once more, this time your tongue flicking against his bottom lip, coaxing his tongue out of his mouth to intertwine with your own. it felt timeless—kissing soobin.

but unfortunately, time was in fact relevant.

thirty minutes had passed, you and his lips entangled, never neglecting one another as you were completely into one another. "’want to take my time with you, yeah?" he groaned. "s'been so long, 'want to go slow." he murmured against your skin, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

you squirmed, nodding as your breath hitched. “yeah…” it was a shaky exhale—your hips pressed against his growing bulge.

looking back, you’d wish he never said that, because a quickie would’ve saved you from what happened next. neither of you heard the oh-so-soft click of the front door.

and neither of you saw jake standing there, watching—observing—as you kissed soobin like your life depended on it—his eyes bright with amusement as his ‘prude’ of a roommate frotted all over some guy.

"ahem…" he cleared his throat—nothing.

he'd decided to try once more, "ahem," he leaned against the entryway, bag in hand as he toed off each of his shoes.

both of your heads snapped toward him, your heart plummeting straight into your stomach, noticing his shit-eating grin.

“y/n, i just left my change of clothes. i’ll just dip in and grab them, cool?” heat crawled up your neck, your mouth suddenly dry as you scrambled off of soobin’s lap. “y-yeah,” you stammered, cheeks burning up. “fine by me.” soobin added, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

you wish he wouldn’t have said that either.

the two men exchanged small nods, soobin softly waving as jake rushed past. but before he left—because of course, he couldn’t leave without making it worse—he paused at the door.

"i have condoms if you guys need…. i keep them out," jake paused, "just in case, y/n you know where they are." he chuckled, running back out the door again.

you were so embarrassed... if embarrassed were even a strong enough word.

why… why would jake say that—fuck, now it sounded like he kept them out just in case you two ever wanted to… to… damnit.

soobin left soon after your run in with your idiot roommate. he’d tried to play it off, as did you. you both forced a tight-lipped smile as he pulled on his shoes, but you weren’t stupid. you saw the way soobin’s eyes darted toward jake’s room, the hesitance in his voice when he said, “i’ll, uh… i-i’ll text you later, yeah?”

which he didn’t. you don’t blame him.

you’d sat there for a while after he left, silently replaying the moment over and over in your head—cursing jake each time. it was unfair.

the way he’d get laid every night and the way you’d just let it happen… as loud as he was if you really wanted to, you could complain; you could give him some lecture about the ‘shared space’ of your apartment, or respecting each other’s boundaries. but you never did.

the way soobin’s face had shifted when jake made that comment, how he’d suddenly withdrawn, as if realizing he wasn’t the only one in your rotation. except he was. it haunted your memory even now.

what normal roommate kept condoms out just in case? what kind of guy made a joke like that so casually, with no concern for how it might sound?

jake fucking sim.

your anger simmered all evening… not only had you been cockblocked, but you were too upset to even finish getting off, not that your useless little fingers would be any help anyways. and on top of that you couldn’t even bring yourself to text soobin to clear things up.

so instead, you did what you did best when you were pissed off and alone—you curled up into a ball on the couch with a blanket, turning off all the lights and letting the glow of the tv drown out the silence as you soothed your raging frustration by lazing around.

you weren’t sure how much time had passed before you heard the front door click open yet again. jake… you mentally groaned, facepalming. he stepped inside, the soft thud of his gym bag hitting the floor was the only sound filling the apartment. you didn’t move.

he walked past the couch, pausing when he spotted you curled up there in the dark, the flickering light from the tv casting shadows across your face. he sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning toward the kitchen.

a few seconds passed. a cabinet opened, then closed. then, finally—“are you really upset about earlier?” you ignored him, eyes glued on to the screen. “c’mon, y/n.” his voice seemed closer now. you could feel him standing behind the couch, hovering over you. “it was just a joke… you know how i am—how we are..”

your jaw tightened. “was it a joke, jake?”

“obviously.”

“yeah, well, soobin didn’t think it was very funny.”

the room felt smaller, the space between you and jake charged with something you didn’t want to acknowledge—a heavy tension—something sharp, electric, and just wrong enough to make your pulse stutter.

if either of you made a wrong move—you might explode.

he was quiet at first, and for a second, you thought maybe—just maybe—he was going to let it go. but this was jake. and jake never let things go. you know that better than anyone. then, just as you expected, he scoffed. “so? that’s his problem, isn’t it?” you whipped your head around so fast, you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “are you serious?” your voice cracked, the anger boiling in your gut curled tight, threatening to spill over. his problem? his?

jake just blinked at you, his expression unreadable, like this was nothing—like you were making a biggg deal out of nothing.

“what? if he really thought we had something going on, that’s on him. it’s whatever.”

“it’s not whatever, jake!” you spat, turning around to face him, fingers digging into the blanket settled on your lap as your anger spilled over. “you have girls over all the time.” you exhaled sharply, your frustration growing as your stomach bubbled with rage. “every. single. fucking. night. i’m so—god, i’m so pent up. i can’t even invite my fuck buddy over without you interrupting or making some stupid remark like an immature asshole.”

he rolled his eyes, shifting back against the couch as though he couldn’t be bothered to care. “oh, come on—”

“no, jake. just go away.”

but he didn’t. of course, he didn’t. instead, he exhaled dramatically, walking around the couch before slouching down beside you, arms crossing over his chest. his body radiating heat as his presence swallowed up the space between you. you were hot—pent up and breaking down in glittering rage. “so that’s it?” his voice was quieter now, lower… more tedious.

there was something sharp underlying beneath his words, something you couldn’t quite place. you frowned, already exhausted by his antics. “what’re you—”

before you could finish, his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to face his. your breath hitched. jake’s hold wasn’t rough—he wasn’t hurting you—but it was firm. demanding.

his thumb brushed the curve of your bottom lip, his eyes darting between your own and reading your face as he murmured, “that’s it?” his voice was sharp, dripping with ridgidness. “you just wanted a quick fuck? that’s it?” he let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “hah… seriously.”

tears swelled up at the corners of your eyes, shame settling in your stomach. yeah. you did… more than anything in the world—you wanted a searing hot orgasm, a quick fuck, to get off… anything! but hearing him say it out loud made it worse—it made your reality of being denied something so simple even more real.

jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard before glancing at you again. “baby,” he drawled, voice thick, and almost condescending. “i could’ve done that for you.”

you froze. “w-what?” your tears seemed to dry themselves, shock washing over you as your bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

he smirked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your skin prickle with heat. “if all you wanted was some stress relief, i thought you’d know me of all people wouldn’t mind.”

his fingers traced along the line of your jaw, featherlight, as he teased you… “i mean, look at you.” his voice dropped an octave lower, his breath warm, fanning against your supple skin. “shit, you’re so fucking pretty—even now… crying because you’re all frustrated over some mediocre dick.”

jake cocked his head, thumb dragging slowly across your plump bottom lip. “not only could i fuck you, y/n,” he murmured, “i could fuck you way better than that guy ever could.” his tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he leaned in just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“when i’m done, you won’t even remember your name, princess.”

a familiar warmth flared in your stomach, and you hated the way your body reacted, the way your breath stilled, the way your thighs pressed together before you could stop yourself.

jake noticed. of course, he noticed. and god, the look on his face said he was going to make you regret it… the yelling and the back talk.

you barely had time to process anything else before his lips crashed into yours.

it wasn’t a soft landing… it wasn’t sweet. it was hungry—fierce. his hand slid from your jaw to your neck, pressing just enough to make your head spin, tilting your chin up so he could deepen the kiss.

his tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing your mouth open until you had no choice but to let him in… no choice but to let his tongue explore your mouth and tangle with your own muscle. you whimpered against his mouth, gripping the fabric of his hoodie in a weak attempt to ground yourself.

he took that as encouragement, swallowing your muffled moans as he shifted closer, his knee pressing hard against your clothes cunt as he wedged it further between your thighs, his body caging you in against the couch.

jake was everywhere, all-consuming.

he kissed you like he meant it, like he had something to prove, like he knew you’d been thinking about this just as much as he had. and fuck, maybe you had. maybe that was the worst part. his words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. he could fuck you better… you knew it and he knew it.

and even if you didn’t, you’d heard the way those ditzy sorority girls mewl and moan while he fucked their brains out… plunging to deep into their squelchy little cunts it makes them dizzy.

you should’ve pushed him away, should’ve said something—anything to shut him down. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were drunk.

because jake was still looking at you like that, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he was daring you to break the kiss first… which you couldn’t. and maybe it was the weeks of pent-up frustration, the way his voice sent a sharp, burning ache straight between your legs, or the fact that he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his skin—but you broke.

you surged forward, fisting the fabric of his hoodie as your lips crashed against his once more, all teeth and desperation whilst your hips grinded and bucked against his clothed thigh.

“you’re like a bitch in heat, baby.” he laughed.

god. you hated him. you hated how easily he took control, how good he felt, how your body melted under his touch like you had always been meant for this. he bit your bottom lip, tugging slightly before pulling back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, breathing heavy. his fingers brushed against the bare skin under your shirt, just barely, but it was enough to make you shiver.

“see, princess?” he murmured, dark and teasing. “i told you.” his lips ghosted over yours again, barely touching, waiting… waiting for you to lean in, expecting you to fall right into the trap he’d laid so perfectly.

“whatever,” you swore. “just fuck me already.” you frowned, bruised lips on display for him. jake could feel his cock chubbing up behind the fabric of his shorts, creating an obvious tent in his pants. If it were up to him—if you were anyone else… he’d listen.

he’d skip the foreplay and fuck you because god, how could he not ravish you? especially when you’re… well, you.

jake’d had a crush on you since you moved in… of course, you were usually tempting—big eyes staring up at him all cutely with your lips all pouty, all the time. but especially now, more than ever, when you were beneath him whimpering—begging for him to fuck you with your hair tousled all over the place and your eyelids heavy..? he’d be crazy not to savor every moment.

“fuck, y/n… let me take my time with you, yeah? show you all you been missing.” his fingers crept along your nape. “you have no idea…” his lips ghosted your skin once more—traveling further down your neck as he placed sloppy kisses down your scorching skin. “god, everytime i fuck one of those girls i wish it were you.”

your hips buck—chasing the friction of his thigh as you gasp… his confession leaving you stunned. jake’s hand slips beneath your shirt, cupping your breast through the fabric of your bra and prodding around, feeling for the peaks of your nipples.

“s-shit..” you gasp, squirming beneath him, feeling the cool air waft against your skin as he peels your shirt from over your head. “yeah? feeling foggy already?” he coos, “lift up,” he instructs. “wanna see all of you, ‘lemme take this off, pretty.”

his slender fingers nimbly unclasp your bra—-your tits spill free, the mounds of your breast perking up beneath the chill of the air as you carefully fall onto your back. jake’s breath hitches—caught in his throat at the sight of your bare body. “so perfect… just how i imagined.” he continues his assault—kissing down your collarbones until the plump of his lips reach your boobs.

immediately, they latch onto your nipple, he gropes your other breast in his left hand—pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. “oh… a-ah! jake…” your hands tangle into his hair.

jake groaned against your chest, teeth grazing the tender skin as he switched sides, giving your other nipple the same eager attention. you writhed beneath him, the wet heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to stay still.

“god, you’re so sensitive,” he murmured, voice low, laced with admiration and pure hunger. “what else makes you squirm like that, huh?” your silence isn’t enough for him as he softly bites at your chest. “shh,” he hushes you. “it’s okay, you can’t talk sweet girl, i’ll just find out myself, hm?”

his kisses trail downward, slowly and deliberately he nips at your ribs, dragging his tongue down your stomach. each movement coaxes a soft whimper to rip from your throat. you could feel every breath, every graze of his lips, and it was driving you insane.

once jake reaches your waistband, he glances up, catching your gaze—his eyes dark, feral.

“bet you’re soaked already,” jake muttered, his hot breath fans over the flimsy fabric of your panties and he smirks when your hips arch off the couch involuntarily, chasing his mouth.

“knew it.” he grins wide, without breaking eye contact, he dips his head… mouthing over the damp spot of your panties clinging to your core, letting out a filthy moan as he licks a stripe up your covered pussy like you were the one ruining him. then, with such a delicate slowness, he hooks his teeth around the band of your panties, snagging the fabric with his canines.

“let me get these off,” he murmurs, voice reverent, muffled slightly by the fabric. “been wanting to taste you for so long.” he groans. all you can do is nod. you choked out a gasp as he dragged the lace down your hips with his teeth—agonizingly slow. his hands guide them down your thighs as he goes, hands hooking underneath your thighs as he parts them gently, slotting between your legs like he belonged there.

“fuck, y/n… look at you,” he whispered, voice ragged. “so pretty like this… so mine.” he breathes against your leaky, fluttering cunt.

jake didn’t dive in right away—that would’ve been too easy. instead, he takes his time—lips brushing over the soft skin of your inner thighs, tongue flicking out just enough to make you twitch.

he takes a deep inhale like he’s memorizing the scent of your aching core. “you don’t even know what you do to me,” he muttered, he strains— his voice is thick with need. “look at you—already shaking, and i haven’t even tasted you yet.” that oh so perfect nose nudges against your clit, giving you a taste of heaven—a taste of everything you knew you’d needed.

your hands curl into the couch cushions as he finally pressed a kiss to your slit, he dips his tongue into before pulling out, licking a slow, lazy stripe up the full length of your cunt. your breath caught. “f-fuck—jake…”

he groaned like the taste of you was better than anything he’d ever had. “god, you’re dripping,” he rasped, tongue flicking over your clit, teasing it with little kitten licks that had your thighs clenching around his head, yet his strong arms clamped you down.

jake just hummed, gripping your hips to hold you open. “don’t run from me now,” he grinned against your skin, “you wanted this, didn’t you? said you wanted me to fuck you…” and then he devoured you.

no more teasing, or holding back—his mouth latched onto your clit with a practiced precision, his tongue circling, flicking, sucking on your labia like he was starved… one of his hands slid down to press two fingers against your entrance, easing them in as his mouth worked your clit like a madman.

“ohmygod! f-ffuck thank you… thank you!” you cried out, back arching off the couch, moaning his name like it was a sacred chant. “fuckfuckfuck—jake—oh my god—jakejake… ohhh..” his fingers curled inside you, scissoring to stretch your tight cunt out wide… finding that sweet spot with ease as he moaned against your clit, the vibration making your whole body jolt in pleasure.

“you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he murmured, voice muffled by your pussy squelching and sobbing against his face. “wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.” your vision blurred, hips grinding against his face on instinct. you were close—so close—held right at the edge by his relentless tongue and the way his fingers fucked into you, soaking wet and obscene.

he looked up at you from between your legs, lips shiny with your slick, pupils blown wide and the tip of his nose snug against your pelvis. “be a good girl… cum on my face, y/n.”

and with a final suck, he sent you tumbling over the edge.

you came—loud, trembling, toes curling as your orgasm crashed through you. yet jake didn’t stop, he didn’t slow down. he lapped up every drop as you rode out your first high. he was greedy and thorough, tongue dragging through your slicked-up, spit-glistening folds as your thighs trembled around his head.

“shit…” he panted. “you taste even better than i imagined… ‘got such a sweet cunt.” jake barely gave you a moment to breathe.

you were still trembling, thighs sticky with slick and overstimulation. the wet spot beneath you on the couch was still there when he rose above you—eyes lingering over your marked body, shaking, lips glistening with drool. his hoodie was already being shrugged off with one hand.

“still with me?” he murmured, voice almost too soft for how entrancing he looked towering over you. you nodded weakly, eyes foggy and fucked-out. that was all he needed. “good.”

in one swift motion, he pushed down his sweats and boxers… the material pooled around his ankles as he yanked you close to the edge of the couch. his cock was springing free—hitting flush against his stomach, thick, red, and already leaking pearls of precum. you barely had time to take in the entrancing curve of his cock, before he was crawling back over you, grabbing your thighs and lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

“gonna fuck you now, pretty girl,” he muttered, his tip slipping through your folds, dragging slick over your overstimulated clit, slapping against it just to make you whimper. “and you’re gonna take it—every inch.”

then he slammed in—bottoming out immediately. you cried out, “oh my! fuck, please!!” head falling back, back arching as he split you open—no warning, no teasing, just pure and raw.

he buried himself to the hilt with one brutal thrust… already fucking into you before you could adjust. “shit,” he hissed, his jaw clenched tight. “you’re so fucking tight…” jake swore, his balls slapping heavily against your ass.

your nails raked down his arms, clinging to his biceps as you tried to adjust, your body burning from the stretch, the sting, the overwhelming fullness…

he pulled out halfway, then slammed back in—again and again, restless. he was relentless… pacing his hips to snap into you fastly and unforgiving. the sound of skin slapping filled the room, mingling with your lewd moans, and the wet drag of his cock through your cunt was absolutely filthy. “look at you,” he grunted, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. “already fucked dumb from my tongue, and now you’re letting me ruin you. that what you wanted, huh?”

you could barely speak—just nodding, gasping, whining his name as he fucked into you like he was trying to mold your body to his. you babbled broken sentences, too dumb to speak straight from his cock wrecking you.

“yeah, that’s it,” he growled, “take it—fucking take it.” one of his hands slipped under your thigh, pushing your leg up to your chest as he folded you in half, the new angle making you scream. his bulge fucking through your stomach as one of his hands firmly pressed down. he hit something deep buried inside of you and you swore you saw white.

he didn’t let up, driving into that spot again and again like he knew exactly how to break you.

you were incoherent now, reduced to nothing but nonsense and spit spilling from your lips, your second orgasm already building fast, it was impossible to stop. “come on, baby,” he panted, fucking you harder, rougher. “wanna feel you come on my cock—milk me dry. milk my fucking cock.”

and when he reached down and rubbed your clit with his thumb—fast, ruthless—you shattered. again. your entire body clenched, back bowing off the couch, a sob of his name ripping from your throat as you came hard. you clenched around his shaft, walls fluttering around his cock, sucking him in even deeper as his tip kissed your cervix. jake groaned, stuttering in his thrusts, burying his face in your neck. “fuck—fuck, y/n—i’m gonna come—”

he drove into you one last time and came with a loud, broken moan, hips pressed flush to yours as he spilled inside you, hot and thick spurts of cum gathering around the base of his dick as his load leaked from your throbbing cunt.

he didn’t move for a moment, panting into your skin, both of you a sweaty, trembling mess. then, finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you—hair wild, eyes heavy, lips swollen.

“…tell me,” he said, voice hoarse. “tell me i fucked you better.”

you hadn’t even caught your breath when he pulled back to look at you—cheeks flushed. “y-you… only you. you fuck me better, god, better than anyone could. ‘fucking ruined.” your lips were kiss-bitten, eyes glassy with tears. “fuck,” jake whispered, he was frayed with awe. “look at you…”

you felt his hands on your waist, still trembling from the last orgasm he dragged out of you, but the ache between your legs hadn’t dulled—it’d only sharpened.

still pulsing… his desperation to be better than soobin egging you on… you were too far deep, finally understanding how he got so many girls to crawl into bed with him. you sat up, straddling his thighs. you saw the way his jaw tensed, like he was trying so hard not to lose it, slight confusion clouded his expression as he watched you lean into his chest. “wanna feel you,” you murmured, still trying to catch your breath. “inside.… more.”

his eyes nearly rolled back on the spot. “shit…yeah? c’mere, baby. take it. s’what you wanted, right?”

he leaned back against the couch cushions, legs spread wide as you slid your hand down between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. he was still so hard—his dick was heavy and leaking, hot and you nearly moaned at just the feeling of him against your folds. then you sank down. the stretch made your thighs shake. your head dropped forward and your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he stuffed you once again, his cock pulsing inside of you as you took shallow drags at his member.

“oh my god, jake…”

his hands flew to your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise. “jesus—fuck. you feel like heaven, baby.” you rolled your hips, grinding down in lazy circles as you got used to the size of him. he seethed through his teeth, eyes flickering between your bouncing tits and the place where your bodies met as you sped up. “look at you,” he groaned. “riding me so good—fuck, you were made for this. made for me… not him.” he smacked your ass, hard.

your hands pressed to his chest for balance, and you picked up the pace, bouncing now. his cock tugged against your walls just right, hitting that spot that made your toes curl, and you couldn’t stop the stream of breathy moans pouring from your mouth.

“you close already, pretty girl?” he rasped, thumb flicking over your clit. “you gonna cum on my cock like this? ‘gonna fuck me til i’m dry? til my cock’s all empty and sore???” you nodded frantically, eyes rolling back fervently. “j-jake—please, i can’t—” “yes you can. ride it out for me. fuck, you’re so tight—don’t stop, baby, don’t you dare stop—” his hands gripped your waist, helping you bounce on his dick as the two of you got lost in pleasure.

your orgasm washed over you with your back arching and your thighs quivering. you could feel him swelling up inside of you, a deep groan tearing from his throat as he spilled into you, bucking up, fucking more of his cum inside of you, desperate to chase every last bit of pleasure.

you collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you sweaty, shaking, breathless. jake brushed your hair back, kissing your temple. “feeling better?” he piqued, his once teasing tone returning. “shut up.” you groaned.

[babyleostuff]

writer in the dark

you found working on your manuscript in bed a blessing and a curse at the same time. the blessing: warm covers and soft pillows. the curse: your boyfriend.

🖋️ THEME: fluff, late night conversations, pouty and dramatic cheol (nothing new) 🖋️ PAIRING: idol!seungcheol x writer fem!reader 🖋️ WORD COUNT: 1.1k

the gentle, fruity scent of your freshly brewed tea minghao brought seungcheol from his last trip to china filled your bedroom from where it was standing on your bedside table. of course, that would only last only until your boyfriend came out of the shower, thoroughly sprayed with his favourite cologne he wore even to bed. as much as you enjoyed it during the day, sometimes you felt suffocated with the scent at night, especially when your boyfriend went into koala bear mode. which happened at least five out of seven nights. 

you sighed and rubbed your eyes, feeling tiredness settle in your muscles. your fingers felt tense and you’d go as far as to say sore from the hours you spent typing on your keyboard. but the deadlines were quickly approaching, and your agent would not appreciate another delay in the schedule. the second book in your next trilogy was one of the most anticipated books for the upcoming year, so there was no room for tired and sore fingers. 

even though they felt three taps away from falling off your hand. 

“which chapter are you on?” cheol’s head peeked out from the open bathroom door. 

without sparing him a glance, you reached for the cup and took a sip of your tea, careful not to burn yourself. “not telling you,” you said, scanning through your document for any comments from the editor. 

“oh come on,,” he mumbled, and with a towel over his head, walked over to your side of the bed. ”you never tell me anything. i always play you my music. i even let you help with the lyrics.”

“right,” you nodded. “ i’m still waiting for the credits.”

from the corner of your eye you noticed a small pout forming on his cherry lips. you wondered if he’d even learn that you’d never show him anything before the final draft, if he was lucky. writing was such an intimate thing, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to show him something that wasn’t nearly perfect in your eyes. 

he’d definitely claw his eyes out if he saw what your first drafts looked like. 

“look, baby, writing songs and books is not the same,” finally, you turned your head, meeting his big, brown eyes. “there’s no point in showing you anything without any context and how would you feel if i told you the plot twist?”

he sighed and pulled the towel over his face. “i hate it when you’re right,” he groaned.

you got back to reading feedback left by your beta readers and editor, while seungcheol busied himself with the rest of his night routine, providing you with a nice background noise. as much as you loved writing with music, it was nice to listen to something else. 

‘what about the characters though?” he plopped on his side of the bed, fully clad in his baby blue PJs. “one of them surely must be extremely handsome, strong, dependable and smart.” 

a giggle escaped you. “are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

“no,” he simply said and scooted closer to you. “it’s just that every successful book has a character like that. just making sure you didn’t forget to write one.”

“thank you for informing me, when i’m 90% done with the final draft,” you said and looked down at your boyfriend, who was making himself cozy between all the pillows. he truly was a princess. 

“see, if we’d talk about it sooner you wouldn’t have an issue,” seungcheol grabbed your computer from your lap and pulled the covers to cover your upper body. 

“cheol, darling, how am i supposed to write with my hands under the blanket?”

he whipped his head, eyes distraught and wide, as if you’d just said the most cancelable thing he had heard in his career. 

“writing? we’re going to bed. you’re definitely going to bed,” he said. 

“i’m not,” you laughed and reached for your computer, but before you could grab it he whipped it out of your reach. “baby, what are you doing?” 

seungcheol gently grabbed your chin in his hand. “you’ve been doing nothing but sit at your pretty ass for hours and hours. i get that writing is your job, but it’s not healthy. what about your eyes? your back?”

“what about you and kkuma?” 

“not the point,” he said, unamused. “the most i’ve seen you this week was during breakfast and maybe in the evening if you haven’t already passed out. you need to rest.”

“but-.”

your head crashed against his soft chest, as he wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders and pressed you closer to his body that you knew as well as your own. 

“i honestly don’t care what you have to say, honey,” he said and pressed his lips against your forehead, then reached to switch off the light. “sleep. now.”

“okay, dad,” you mumbled, but draped your arm over his tummy nonetheless. you weren’t made of stone; obviously you missed him as well. you were just better at hiding it. 

a couple of minutes passed and you could feel your eyelids getting heavier with the second. your boyfriend was right in one thing – you really needed that rest, because not even the cologne managed to bother you. 

“you know,” cheol’s voice gently pulled you out from your sleepy state. “if you need to revise any of the sexy scenes we can do that now.” 

you slipped your hand under his PJs and ran your fingers over his tummy, making him shake with laughter. “you cannot be serious, choi seungcheol.” 

“i’m always serious when it comes to sexy time,” he ran his finger over his cheek. 

“first of all, did you just call fucking sexy time? and second, didn’t you tell me to rest?” 

his quiet giggle made your stomach warm with love. you loved writing, words, and imagining magical realms in your head, but if there was one thing you hated about being a writer was that you’d never be able to convey something as beautiful as your boyfriend’s voice on paper.

“yeah, but i figured you’d have an even better sleep, you know?” 

you shook your head. “you’re delusional.”

“oh, sorry for wanting to make my girlfriend feel good.”

“i already feel good. like this,” you said, and nuzzled further up cheol’s neck, placing a small kiss on his jaw.

“yeah, because your extremely handsome, strong, dependable, and smart man is actually real.”  

“one day i’m going to make you sleep on the couch,” you grumbled. “now let me sleep.”

you could feel his lips widen in a smile against your forehead. “i love you,” he whispered, which was the last thing you heard before falling asleep, enveloped in warmth, fluff, and his cologne.

[andy-15-07]

It's SNL night tonight!! How 'bout reader sitting in the audience with his family supporting Pedro on SNL

His Biggest Fan

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 628 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The energy in the SNL studio was electric, the kind of buzz that only came with a live show night. Y/N sat in the audience, surrounded by Pedro’s family, his sister and cousins chatting animatedly while they waited for the show to begin. The excitement was palpable, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she took it all in. Pedro had been nervous all week, rehearsing skits and perfecting his monologue, but she knew he would be incredible.

His sister nudged her playfully. "You ready to see your man kill it tonight?"

Y/N laughed, feeling warmth spread through her chest. "Absolutely. He’s been practicing his lines in the mirror like a lunatic. I caught him doing different voices at breakfast."

They all chuckled, knowing exactly how seriously Pedro took his work. The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the show was about to start, and the iconic opening music filled the studio. The crowd erupted in cheers as the announcer boomed, "Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!"

When Pedro finally walked onto the stage for his monologue, looking effortlessly charming in a perfectly tailored suit, Y/N felt a swell of pride. He smiled at the audience, a mixture of excitement and nerves in his eyes.

"Wow," he started, looking around the studio. "This is insane. I can’t believe I’m here… hosting SNL!"

The audience roared with applause, and Pedro chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Y/N could tell he was settling into his rhythm. He glanced toward where they were seated, his eyes locking with hers for the briefest moment, a small, almost imperceptible wink sent in her direction.

His monologue was a perfect mix of humor and sincerity, poking fun at himself, his roles, and even his newfound internet heartthrob status. The crowd ate it up, laughing and cheering at every punchline. Y/N found herself laughing the loudest, feeling a surge of affection for him.

As the show progressed, Pedro nailed every skit, seamlessly blending into the absurd world of SNL. Whether he was playing a medieval warrior in an over-the-top soap opera parody or an exhausted dad in a grocery store meltdown skit, his comedic timing was flawless. Between takes, Y/N would glance at his family, all of them beaming with pride.

During a quick break, Pedro’s sister leaned in. "He’s having the time of his life. You can see it."

Y/N nodded, watching him from afar as he laughed with the cast members, the stress of the week melting away. "He really is."

The highlight of the night came during the last skit—a surprise cameo that had the audience screaming. As the final applause rang through the studio, Pedro bowed dramatically, his wide smile visible even from where Y/N sat.

When the show wrapped, the cast and crew took their bows, and Pedro made his way over to them, still buzzing with adrenaline.

"You were amazing!" Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his chest rise and fall with exhilaration.

Pedro squeezed her tightly. "Did you see me almost break in that last skit? I swear, I was seconds away from losing it."

His sister laughed. "We saw, and we loved it. You killed it tonight."

Pedro let out a breath of relief, his smile softening as he looked at Y/N. "You think so?"

She cupped his face gently. "I know so."

He leaned in, pressing a quick, grateful kiss to her lips before pulling back with a grin. "Alright, let’s go celebrate. I need food, drinks, and at least five hours of sleep."

As they left the studio together, Y/N tucked herself under his arm, the warmth of the night’s success surrounding them. There was no better feeling than seeing someone she loved shine, and tonight, Pedro had done just that.

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Lean On Me (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Dr Michael 'Robby" Robinovitch x younger! Langdon's little sister! reader

Reader is the youngest sister to Frank and is called back from Europe to care for her brother.

Warnings: talk about rehab, drug use, casual drinking, slow burn (maybe).

Part Two

You woke with a screaming headache and your phone ringing, the small rectangle vibrating so much it had fallen from your bedside and was halfway under the bed before you had a chance to grab it.

You swear under your breath at the brightness, your hostel room was pitch black as your phone told you it was 2am, just an hour or so after you had stumbled from a nightclub and into your bed. 

“Turn that off.” muttered a voice beside you and you pulled the blanket further up your body. You had forgotten that in the midst of a night of drinking, and dancing you had brought home a ‘guest’.

You don’t bother uttering an apology before getting out of the bed and going to the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Your last hundred euros had gone to this single room in a Hungarian hostel after months of living with ten random strangers, and on your first night you had decided to invite someone back. 

You slam your head back against the closed door and took a deep breath. You’d been in Europe for five months now, any savings you had had left after sorting out your family's drama and almost all of it was gone now between transport and living costs, bar your emergency ‘the world is ending’ fund. 

But this had been your dream once, cut out photos of ancient architecture and historical locations from national geographic magazines had been plastered on your bedroom wall, your locker and phone case, all you had wanted while you worked three jobs and took care of your family was to one day stand in the shadows of castles and cathedrals. So you had used every last dollar to get yourself to Europe, while your friends at home settled into careers, and life.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling you back to the present. 

Your mother was calling.

She had called 15 times according to your cracked phone screen.

Fuck!

“Hi Ma!” you say, as fake cheerfully as you can at 2am after a night of drinking and half an hour of sleep.

“Where have you been! I have been calling for hours!”

Half an hour at most you think to yourself before swallowing a sigh.

“Sorry Ma, it's like 2 am here! What's wrong?”

Your mother huffs and you can almost picture her in the kitchen, cigarette in one hand, a forgotten glass of wine in the other no matter the time of day. 

You do the maths, it's probably around 4pm in Pittsburgh.

 “You need to come home now! It’s your brother.”

Your stomach dropped and your knees buckled. Frank was your big brother, a larger than life figure in your universe, who you had spent many years protecting from your parents, and making sure he had everything he needed to get through life with as little bumps as possible. But in the last few years everything had calmed down on the Frank front, he had gotten married when his girlfriend got pregnant, then another kid had come quickly after that. He had gotten his residency at the local hospital in the town they had grown up in. He had his life on the right track.

“What-” you try to ask for more information but you can’t breath, you can’t stand any longer and the cool, very gross tiles on the hostel bathroom felt like heaven against your now clammy skin.

“Rehab, they sent him to rehab!” 

“What for?”

And with one word your world fell apart and you were back on a plane.

Drugs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It should be illegal for the sun to shine so brightly when you have no time to appreciate it. Pittsburgh had decided to pull out all the stops for a beautiful day, the sun was shining, there were birds singing in the trees and even a butterfly had landed on your jacket as you rushed from Frank's apartment to the rehabilitation facility. 

The only dampening thing about the day was you, as you huffed at the butterfly and sent glaring looks at anyone who tried to make small talk as you waited for the bus, then walked the additional mile from the stop to the door. Your mood was foul and your temper worse.

At 29 years of age you were officially feeling like an old curmudgeon, and after spending the majority of your life looking after your parents and brother, you had thought yourself finally free from their shackles but it had taken one phone call and one overdrawn charge on your credit card to find yourself once again at the mercy of your family.

You tried to remind yourself daily that it wasn’t Frank's fault, addiction is a disease, and one with no real cure.  But it’s hard to do that after two weeks filled with appointments with his therapists, his counsellors and then a stilted dinner last night with his apparently ex-wife and kids which ended up with you getting a puppy dumped in your lap.

The said puppy then spent all night crying on your pillow before peeing in your still unpacked suitcase.

The said peeing in the suitcase meant you were now wearing yesterday's underwear which you had washed in the sink, and one of Frank's shirts, which was tiny on your larger frame, the word PITTSBURGH now stretch tight over your tits.

The rehab facility was nice, a modern building amongst turn of the last century offices. You walked past it twice on the first day, it blended it well to the built up area. 

You had wanted to send Frank to a rehabilitation centre further out of town, somewhere with a big garden, but between the three credit cards you had taken out and the very last of your emergency ‘the world is ending’ funds, an inner city place was the best you could get.

In your brother's defense he hadn’t complained about the location or the facilities, instead on his good days he spent most of his time trying his best to be positive about the whole thing. On his bad days, the location was the last thing he cared about, he just wanted to scream and throw things at you when you refused to let him leave.

Frank wasn’t in his room when you got there, and you knew he didn’t have group therapy or a one on one session this afternoon so you wandered from room to room, looking for him, smiling at the nurses and orderlies that now knew you by name. 

You located Frank in the back common room, hunched over a table with a stranger, a game of chess half played between them.

You couldn’t hear what was being said but you could see the tension in your brother's shoulders and your stomach dropped. 

It was going to be a bad day.

Great.

“Hey Frank.” 

He looks at you as you approach, as does the stranger who offers you a weak smile with sad eyes. You get a lot of sad eyes thrown your way nowadays, from the nurses at the centre to Frank's neighbours who know why you are there and he is not.

“What do you want?” your brother asks, venom lacing each word.

“Just come to say hi, and see if you want a game but it looks like you have company.” you hate how small your voice sounds.

The stranger gets up from the chair and gestures to you to take his place but you shake your head.

“I don’t want you here, I told you that yesterday.” Frank hissed through his teeth, his attention back at the chessboard as his fingers tapped against the plastic chess set, “Go back to fucking around Europe or whatever.”

He had said the same thing yesterday morning, but after a counselling session with Frank's doctors you were told to ignore what he says in anger and to reach out with him daily, if possible, he has to know that his family is with him and that he has the support from them, no matter what.

You were also told to try and prioritise your own mental health when you can, but who has time for that.

So you returned, as you would every day, until he was out of the facility. You would then live with him, supervising visits with him and the children and then get him back to work. 

You took care of your family, you had since you were thirteen years old. 

“Just thought I would come anyway,” you said cheerfully, “I baked cookies last night and they are chocolate chips, your favourite.” it was a complete lie, you had bought them from the shops and decanted them into tupperware containers last night. 

Frank just ignored you and the tupperware you placed on the table, just playing his move and then gesturing for the other man to play on.

But the stranger couldn’t stop staring at you, he was handsome in an older man way with a well kept beard and brown hair that looked like it was due for a trim. Dressed in a hoodie and well worn jeans, he looked like someone you would swipe right on, if you had the time to get back on the apps.

But you didn't and the way he was looking you up and down was unnerving especially as your brother ignores you and wishes to continue with his game.

A lump forms in your throat and you feel panic rising in your chest as you sit there watching your brother continue to ignore you. The stranger kept staring even as it was his turn to play. And you'd just sit there waiting for Frank to say something, do something to acknowledge your existence. 

Until you can't take it anymore.

"I guess I'll go, Frank, and I'll see you tomorrow." your words come out stilted and with almost no emotion. 

He made a rude gesture with his hand before you grabbed your bag and left. 

You're outside the rehabilitation centre before you even know it, and suddenly you wash with emotion. Everything hurts, your body, your head, your heart as you fall to the floor and cry, heaving as the thought of leaving your brother there another day rips into you. He was your Big Brother and you were meant to protect him. That is what you were told since you were a child. And he was the one who was so smart and going to go places and you were nothing but his kid sister.

You couldn't blame Frank for this moment of weakness, of the disease that was ripping through his life, ending his career, his marriage and any relationship he has at the current point with his children. You couldn’t even blame your parents. Your dad for his own alcoholism, your mom for her own absent mindedness, for both of your parents only thinking of the potential of one of their two children. You cannot blame anybody, but you wished you could at that moment. 

You are thankful that it was only 11.00am on a weekday. There were little to no people on the streets to witness your breakdown as you let all the emotions out of your body, tears streaming down your face, your mascara completely ruined. 

Suddenly a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you out of the mania, your tear filled eyes meet big sad brown eyes. 

The stranger had followed you outside. 

“I never introduced myself,” he said. His voice was like honey. He pulled a tissue packet from the pocket of his jeans. You blow your nose ungracefully, cringing internally at the noise, "I'm Doctor Michael Robinovitch."

He put out his hand to shake yours and you took it, too stunned to say anything else. The Stranger- No- Dr Robinovitch continues to stare, the big brown eyes looking into your soul as you both stand awkwardly outside the rehab center, no one knowing what to say. He then smiles and asks “Do you want to get a cup of coffee?”

[millersfinest]

untethered² | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.2 k

series: chapter one, chapter two (you’re here!), chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie flirting/teasing each other, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf, the millers, r is a writer, horndog ellie, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut, some corny time period song drops.

note: okay, i tried to fit a lot of stuff into this but it was getting too long wink wink. i’ve introduced rich!abby, she’s literally a generational surgeon purr. when i was writing this i was listening to some early 00s music and burn from usher came on… that’s ellie’s anthem ya’ll (for cat) lmaooo. i may not post another chapter before the new year, soo happy early new years to my moots, readers and followers (pookies) <3

After spending an extra hour, or so, with Ellie in the kitchen—laughing under your hands, stuffing bread into your mouths; you set an alarm for 6am. The same time clock that sat on your bedside table from your youth. Surprisingly, it still worked—waking you up with that same traumatic sound it used to for school.

You efficiently got ready; as in, you put on hearty jeans, cowboy boots, and a throw-away sweater because you had an obligation to fill on the farm. Every time you came back home, it was habitual for you to resume the responsibilities you used to have when the farm was your primary residence.

Around 6:45, you met your parents downstairs to begin prepping and planning who was going to go where. There was usually only three of you, but as you hovered over the black coffee on the counter—in your favorite antique mug—the screen door pulled open to reveal a sleepy-looking Ellie Williams-Miller.

She had a thick, black headband pushing her hair back from her forehead, and a low bun. The whites of her eyes were a little irritated and low-hanging, like she was exhausted. “Mornin’, Ellie.” Tommy spoke, rasping slightly. You and Maria parroted him—you standing up straight, instead of leaning over the counter.

Ellie settled across from you, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a comfort. She rarely ever knew where to put her hands. “Didn’t think you’d jump in so quick.” You commented, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee in your hands.

“The sooner the better.” She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Is there any coffee left?”

Before your mother could leap to helping her out, you set down your mug. “‘Course there is. Hazelnut or Vanilla creamer?” You walk over to the pot, not forgetting to pull down a mug from the cabinet. It was offhanded, unintentional—but the ceramic mug you grabbed happened to be hers from the past. An off-white color with her initial on the front in maroon. Ellie used to come over so much, she had her own mug.

She was the first to notice, a blush blossoming on her freckled cheeks. “Hazelnut…”

Pouring the hot coffee a quarter of the way, you added the creamer and dropped a spoon inside to mix it. Ellie wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee, so it was more creamer than coffee. Behind you, your parents began explaining and refreshing the jobs they usually do in the morning. They plan to handle the cows, goats and shipments; while you and Ellie can handle the chickens, horses and garden. “Now, Bug, she’s gonna be taking over your job— so, instruct her well, please.”

“You got it, dude.” You curtly nodded, after making a cheesy Full House joke, sporting a thumbs up. The only person to chortle was Ellie, while her lips were still parted over the side of her mug.

Tommy and Maria put their hands in the middle, slapping on top of each other. “Lets break out—“

“Come on, dad, do we have to?” It was so natural for you to complain at his antics, calling him dad, that you didn’t realize who you were doing it in front of company until much later.

When you were a teenager, every morning your broke out like a team—because, basically, that’s what you were. Splitting to conquer more ground; it took teamwork. “Honey, we always break out.”

Ellie set her cup down, amused. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, y/n.” She put her hand on top of theirs, raising her thick eyebrows. “Come on, break out.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your hand over her’s. “We’re the Miller’s on three.” You dragged, shaking your head. They all grinned around you like hyenas, and it amusingly pissed you off. One. Two. Three.

“We’re the Miller’s!” They exclaimed, along with yourself. Unable to remove the mirroring grin from your lips.

“All right, team. Let’s get to work.” Tommy asserted with a smile, drinking the rest of his coffee.

The four of you dispersed on the back porch. You scribbling on notebook paper to keep track of your duties. Ellie leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms, with her eyes trained on your focused expression. “Okay… We’re starting off with the chicken’s— do you remember how?” You glance up, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehm,” She clears her throat, pushing off the railing. “Uhm, yeah, totally. We get the food, right? The pellets?”

“Yeah, and…” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing smirk on your lips.

She chews on her lip, averting her eyes. “Scoop it into troughs?” Ellie questioned, slowly, knowing she was incorrect. The young woman just wanted you to correct her.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself a bit mixed up, Els.” The nickname slipped from your lips sweetly, but unpredicted. You were both shocked and did a bad job of hiding it. Your lips opening and closing like a gaping fish; Ellie licking her lips, still rocking on her feet. But to be fair, you were friends before everything—it shouldn’t have been weird. “Sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? It’s my name…” Ellie shrugged.

“Let’s just get to the chicken coop.” You chuckle, hiding the nervousness by trotting off the porch. Her name was Ellie, not Els—people who were close to her called her that, and they weren’t close anymore. It was just an example of muscle memory, really.

Ellie tapped her hand against the wooden post, following in your footsteps. “Feels good to be back…” She mutters, walking with her hands behind her back.

“You’re always welcome here.” You respond, approaching the shed that held the chickens food and such. Your fingers worked at the metal latch, pushing open the door. It creaking loudly from the rusted hinges. “Help me fill the buckets?”

She nodded with tight lips, crouching down where you were in front of a large bag filled with their food. You dug for the scoop, frowning at the smell. Ellie had grabbed a bright orange bucket, placing it beside you. Her eyes watching you, intently. Taking in all of your movements while scooping the pellets into the bucket.

Feeling her eyes on you, it was easy to start conversation—transition from that pier of tension. “You looked pretty tired… I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

Ellie hummed, switching an empty bucket with the one you just filled, putting it to the side. “Oh, no, of course not. I had an idea for a sketch… So, stayed up and worked on that.”

You grinned, peering at her. “Hey, the farm’s already workin’, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She chortled, averting her eyes.

Now, that was a clean cut lie. Ellie was a very smart girl—quick on her feet; she always has been. As she stood in that woody kitchen, munching on microwaved biscuits and giggling with her childhood ex-girlfriend… She had realized a fundamental truth. Or, more so, she was considering it. Perhaps, it wasn’t the farm she needed to sponsor her creativity.

It was you. In all of your self-made, manufactured glory. All it took was a glance for her to blossom with ideas—you were her muse.

That’s why she was up all night. She had propped herself on a stool, while her girlfriend slept, and began sketching where the both of you stood—by the shed. Ellie had drawn, scribbled, and shaded until the charcoal pencil fell from her fingers. Forcing her to rest, and by that time it was four in the morning.

Not without covering her work with a sheet, though. Your features were etched onto the canvas, that was too precious and vulnerable. Intimate. Telling.

Pulling her from her obsessive thoughts, you spoke. “Ellie, the bucket.” You bunched your eyebrows, with a tone insinuating that you’ve asked her more than once.

“Shit, my bad.” She stood up, picking one of them up by the metal handle. When she lifted it, she realized that she should consider weight lifting as a hobby—it was heavy. But, you held it in your hands as if it weighed no more than ten pounds. Ellie wasn’t right; the traits of a country girl never left you.

You began to walk out of the shed, toward the chicken coop, which was only a few steps away. “You know, I can let you off the hook if you wanna go take a nap, or something. We have, like, five more days for me to show you the ropes.”

“Really, it’s fine. You know I get a little spacey sometimes.”

“Yeah, when there’s a lot on your mind.” You pointed out, arriving at the coop. Opening the gate, you walk to another, slightly shorter gate to release the chickens. “Your breakfast has arrived!”

You set the bucket on the ground, Ellie doing the same, and you began to scoop out the pellets onto the dirt. They clucked and hopped around, pecking at the small pieces of food littered around. “Is there a lot on your mind?”

She hesitated to answer, dumping the rest of the pellets onto the ground. “Little bit…”

“Well, let this be a release from whatever you’re thinkin’ about. Not a distraction, but a release— it’ll keep you focused.”

Instead of pressing for what was on her mind, you responded with more thoughtful words. The fact that the both of you allowed your closeness to disintegrate or untether; you didn’t have much of a place to inquire. Asking too many questions could lead to fighting—if she were anything how she used to be. And you didn’t want to pry, even though a part of you assumed her exhaustion had something to do with Cat.

Ellie hummed once more, with her hands on her hips, watching you scratch their little heads. “Horses are next, right?” She questioned, blinking at you as if she were in a daze.

You chortle. “Yep. Excited to see Shimmer and Tokyo, huh?” A grin spread across your lips as you approached the gate. You paused, gasping, before you turned back to the auburn-haired woman. “Fuck, I have a surprise for you— almost forgot!” Rushing to grab her hand, you pull her out of the chicken coop. Keeping a firm grip on her palm; Ellie’s lightly holding yours as you pulled her toward the horse barn, glancing at her hand being embraced. It was a little ways so, despite the cool, morning air, sweat beaded between your palms.

But, since she was so enamored by your excited spirit, she held on.

When you arrived, that’s when you released her hand, unlocking the latch. Before your opened the door, you turned toward her faux lax expression. “Shimmer is, now, a mother…” You began, pushing open the door. Ellie gasped, grinning wide like a child before an arcade. “To a beautiful foal Tommy named Sarah.” You introduced coming up on their division.

“Holy shit,” She cursed, still grinning ear to ear. Her white teeth sparkling against the rays of the morning sun that peaked through the wooden panels in the barn. Shimmer peaked her head over the gate once she saw Ellie—like she never forgot about her. Nobody had. “Congrats, Shimmer.” She ran her hand along her strong jaw; the horse nuzzling into her touch.

Her olive eyes peered down, noticing the much smaller foal. Her coat was the same color as her mothers, but her hair had a blonder touch. “Can I?” She looked over at you.

“You don’t have to ask— she’s your horse, too.” You waved your hand. “I’ll go ahead and grab their food.” Leaving them alone, you hear Ellie marveling at Sarah. Causing a chuckle to leave your lips. You pet the other horses—Tokyo, Hamlet, and Ophelia—on the way to the other end of the barn.

Packing the buckets with differing pellets and chaffs, you filled their troughs and opened up their gates. Saving Shimmer and Sarah for last.

You walked over, leaning against the open gate. Sarah had nestled between Ellie’s crossed legs as she sat in the hay. Leaning into her gentle caresses. “I’m assuming she’s named after Joel’s daughter?” She asked, looking up at you from the ground.

“You assumed right.” You nodded, pressing your lips into a line.

“Does Joel know?”

“Not yet. It was a surprise for both of you.” You told, taking the liberty to join her on the ground. “I’m sure Tommy’ll say somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your fingers nestle through her course blonde hair. She was only about a week old, and the softness of her hair was already leaving. A sigh falls from your lips, glancing up at your old friend. Her eyes were already trained on your features, intently. Like she was trying to remember the intricacies of your face. “You think he’ll like it? Naming Shimmer’s baby after her?”

Ellie blinked, running her tongue over hr lips. “Uh, yeah— I think he’ll love it.” She chuckled, boyishly. The side of her lips curling up, as her eyes cast back toward the happy foal. “He’d probably want pictures of her everyday…”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking the pictures…”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t.” She affirmed. “If I didn’t, he’d blow up my cell.”

You laughed, backing up against the wall, leaning your head back as you peered at her. “He would wouldn’t he?”

A pair of footsteps caught your attention, and for a moment you thought it was your parents. You prepared to get up, but a new face came around the corner. Her brown eyes were sleepy, and she still was dressed in her pajamas. Hay clinging to the hem of her plaid pajama pants. “I was told that I’d find you here…” She spoke, mostly to the auburn-haired woman beside you.

“Mornin’,” You smiled, awkwardly. Standing up from where you sat. Cat smiled at you, but her eyes quickly moved back to Ellie.

“Ellie, can we talk?” She softly asked, fiddling with her fingers.

From the ground, she sighed, unmoving. “I’m kind of busy… Can it wait?” Ellie lifted her eyebrows, squinting at her girlfriend because of the sun’s rays. Her olive eyes practically glowing as the sun reflected through them.

“No. It can’t wait.”

“I can step out…” You offered, placing a hand on Shimmer. “She’s missing out on some grazing time, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine.” “Thanks,” Both Ellie and Cat spoke, causing you to pause in your steps. You bunched your eyebrows at Ellie, making an expression that read: talk to her! Ignoring the pleas of her beautiful features, you pulled Shimmer from her space. Leaving the two to talk.

It was always about saving face for you—you didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Cat. It was obvious that she knew about your past; you hoped that she did. Maybe, in a possessive way—in a way of I know her more than you. Or, in a way of context. That was something you were still trying to figure out.

Either way, your feelings for Ellie was private; something you were battling, as if it were a disease. Because it was wrong to hold onto a fragment of a memory—loving someone who was taken. It was childish. Letting them talk was putting a leash on yourself. There was nothing like some good ol’ fashioned self control.

While you contemplated, watching the horses meander around, getting their fresh air—conversation happened in the barn. Around the innocent, nuzzling foal, Sarah. “I just wanted to let you know… That I’m not mad at you.” Cat spoke, genuinely, leaning against the wooden gate. Her voice was firm and far from soft. “You know how I can get easily overwhelmed—“

“Cat, overwhelmed? You got pissed with me because I was asking her questions. That’s it.” Ellie retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fucking years. Do you expect me not to be interested in what she’s doing?”

“Okay, Ellie. My fucking bad!” She slapped her hands against her legs. “My bad for considering your history with each other— I’m being a jealous bitch. There. I said it for you.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Can we just stop acting weird? I don’t wanna fight. Not here.”

Ellie allowed Sarah to stand, walking from her space to where her mother was. Around the corner, entertaining you, although your peeving ear was open to their conversation. Even though, you couldn’t hear much.

She stood up, dusting herself off. “I’d never call you a jealous bitch…” Ellie muttered, approaching her, settling her hands on her jaw. “You have nothing to worry about, kitty Cat.” She spoke like a wish, leaning into the place a chaste kiss on her lips. Cat had shut her eyes, not noticing the glance Ellie made out the open barn doors at you—the back of you. Just before her lips met hers. She tried to keep Ellie, moving her lips against hers, but she pulled away, swiftly. “I have to get back to work, all right. No hard feelings?”

She sighed, pouting. “None at all… See you later?” Cat wondered, letting her hands drift down to her belted hips.

“See you later.” She smiled, pulling away from her.

Cat left the barn, waving at you on her way out. “See you, y/n!” She waved, wiggling her fingers. Her voice was sweet, but for some reason you didn’t like how smooth your name came from her mouth. But, regardless, you smiled back.

Ellie emerged from the barn with her hands in her pockets. She stopped where you were, watching the horses—mainly Sarah. “How’d it go?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You remember Dina and Jesse, right?” She changed the subject.

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, peering over at her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re going to a bar later… The Tipsy Bison, If you wanna—“

“Oh, I don’t know.” You interrupt, shaking your head. Chewing on your bottom lip, keeping your eyes trained on the trotting horses. The moment the relationship between you and Ellie was severed; that severed whatever bond you had with them. Jesse tried to stay in contact passively—when MySpace came out, he friended you. However, Dina was nowhere to be found. She must’ve hated your guts, right?

“What? You don’t drink either?” She chuckled, covering her nervousness.

Pressing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at her. “It’s been too long…” You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” She drawled, like a youthful plea.

“This is peer pressuring. Did we not learn about this is school?” Your feet carried you away from the horses, toward the garden. She followed after you with a sickening grin.

You pulled out your checklist, checking off the box by chickens and horses—clicking your pen with a smirk on your face. “Peer pressure… Shmeer Shressher.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, I don’t know. I might have something to write for my editor— let me think about it.” You made up an excuse on the spot, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if you opened up your email to see several messages from Isa Raymond.

“Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic, too?”

“I’m not.”

“Kind of seems like it.” Ellie shrugged.

You hit her arm with the back of your hand. “Whatever, Ellie. Think what you want.” The both of you arrive at the greenhouse. It smells of fresh soil and misty air—fairly comforting. When you were younger, it was the second best part of the farm for you. The horse barn being the first, of course. “This part is the simplest; just make sure all the veggies and plants are watered accordingly.”

You pick up a gallon half-full tin watering can, handing it to her. She took it from you with both hands, fingers grazing, lightly. “Oh, shit— I wasn’t paying attention with the horses. What do you feed ‘em?” Ellis began to stroll down the aisles, watering the soil.

“No worries, it seemed important.” You shrugged, mentioning the conversation between her and Cat. “I’ll just show you on the way back. It’s pretty simple— woah, not too much!” You place a hand on her wrist. She was pouring too much water into one of the potted plants. Her eyes locked onto yours, opened wide. “Sorry, I should’ve said this before… The potted plants need less water than the veggies.” She kept looking at you, the ends of her lips curling. “Carry on,” You urged, walking past her—in front of her, holding your own hands in front of you.

She couldn’t help but watch you go—hell, that’s all she’s been doing since she saw you. Watching. There was nothing wrong with that. Even if her eyes drifted to the way your hips were hugged in the jeans your wore. The sliver of skin that exposed when you bent down, or crouched, or even swayed your hips.

“So…” Ellie began, heading to your word and carefully watering. “Are you seeing anyone in Manhattan?” She asked, shamelessly with a perked eyebrow.

You pivoted, leaning your back against one of the aisles of vegetation. “Off and on…” Shrugging, you surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. “Dating in New York is like setting yourself on fire… And I don’t like getting burned.” You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes from her and the tomato’s. “Why? Is there someone you’d wanna set me up with—? I could use the help.” You joke, beginning to fiddle with the waxy leaves.

She snickered, approaching you with the tin watering can. Pouring nutrient liquid onto the carrot sprouts. “Dina, maybe?”

“Awe, you’re so funny.” You clap your hands together, sarcastically, leaning your chin on your hand.

“If you come out tonight, you can see just how funny I am.” She set the can down.

“I don’t have to go to a bar to see how funny you are. I’m laughing right now, aren’t I?” You mock a fake laugh, pointing at your mouth. Ha Ha. Ha Ha.

Wrapping your hands around the handle of the watering can, you pulled it from her to take over her job. “Just come, y/n! Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?”

A scoff fell from your lips. “It’s been a while since the gang was together, Ellie.” Occupying your attention with plants you watering. You fought to fight the frown attempting to grow on your lips, pressing them together and turning your body enough for her not to notice.

Ellie dragged her feet, following you. “It’s been eight years…”

Sighing, you slightly slam the can down, not enough to make a fuss but enough to signal your irritation. “Have you forgotten about what happened eight years ago?” You questioned, sternly.

She paused, inhaling, sharply. Ellie scratched her jaw, nodding her head. “Nope.” While she was taken aback by your sudden sternness; there was something that excited her about that pinched look on your face. The auburn-haired young woman has grown a lot since her youth.

“Okay, then.” You pouted. “Let’s just wrap this up, so we can reconvene with my parents— make sure all this stuff is done.”

And that’s exactly what the both of you did. The jokes and silly conversation ceased, and you basically finished in awkward silence. On the way back to the house, you showed her which foods to give to which horse, clinically. That playful look on your face was replaced with the one that exposed your unnerved feeling—from the horrifying mention of what happened eight years ago.

At the front porch, the pair of you separated. She waved a fiddly hand, peering over her shoulder as she walked back to the guesthouse. With a pair of shoulders that were slumped lower than they were from the morning.

Ellie didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—she should’ve never pushed you to hang out with her later. Perhaps, she got too comfortable too fast; but that’s just the type of person you were. Easily acclimatizing. It didn’t matter how much space could be between you and another person—you always found a way with making them feel at home. However, when you pull back, it’s a cold feeling. She just wanted to look at you some more, talk to you some more; be around you some more. Ellie couldn’t deny how refreshing it was.

You met with your parents assuring them that everything was done. They asked about Ellie, but you said she took all the information fine. She’ll probably just need a few days to really lock it in—but, you couldn’t stay long to chat. It was about nine in the morning, and you had to check your email and cell for messages.

First, you showered to get the smell of animal off of you. As much as you loved them, the stench was awful and you’d rather die than let it get stuck to the comforter of your bed. Then, you hopped onto your reading nook, and began going through your emails.

Scroll, scroll, Isa Raymond. Scroll, scroll, Frank St. James… Frank St. James—that was your editor! “Fuck,” You swore under your breath, clicking the bolded words, your heart grew nervous. What if he didn’t like it? You always took criticism much harder when writing the essay’s for your book because everything comes from your experience—your spirit.

Your eyes panned over the words, seeing nothing but: phenomenal, and powerful, and effective, and most importantly, this will be the perfect addition to your bigger work. “Fuck, yeah!” You shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

A head peaked through your door, dark brown hair crowded with grays, and aged brown eyes. “Are we celebrating somethin’?”

Looking up, you smile at Joel, pushing your laptop to the side. “Yeah, actually. One of my chapters got approved by my editor.” You sighed, happily.

“Looks like that book really is comin’ along…” Joel hummed, sporting a proud look on his face. “Good thing Ellie and I made some breakfast— hot and ready! Do your parents have any champagne, so we can celebrate with some mimosa’s?”

Standing to your feet, you waved a hand. “It’s not that serious, Joel.” You chuckle, letting your hands rest on your hips.

“You think mimosa’s are serious? Whew, you need to come back home more often.” He joked, leaning on the threshold of your door.

Rolling your eyes, playfully, a chuckle leaves your throat. He was always so supportive. For a moment you though you lost the opportunity to see that side of him a long time ago. “There might be some in the fridge… And some cranberry juice.” He nodded, pumping his fist—him and Ellie were so much alike. “Give me, like, five minutes and I’ll be down. I have to respond to some messages.”

“Of course, workin’ girl. But don’t let your mimosa get warm… Or your food get cold— we worked hard on it.”

“I won’t.” You smiled, watching him leave your door. Quickly, you pulled out your cell, checking your messages. Some complaining messages from Sierra, Isa Raymond complimenting you—which she didn’t do often—and, a message from a past love interest, Abby Anderson.

Abs: I’m gonna be in your hometown for a few days, seeing some friends. We’re going to a bar later, you should come!

You hesitate to respond, but you do.

You: Oh, nice! Which bar?

There weren’t many bars where you came from, it was fairly small. But, you were getting an inkling that it was the same bar Ellie had invited you to—the Tipsy Bison.

Abs: Tipsy Bison, I believe.

You: I’m totally in. Could definitely use a drink right now.

Abs: Want me to come by and pick you up? I drove the Jaguar ;)

You: As tempting as that sounds, I already have a ride. See you then, Abby.

You slapped your phone shut to meander downstairs to the breakfast that awaited you. On a hot plate, made by Joel and Ellie themselves—which, typically, was delicious. They were both wonderful cooks.

Stepping down the stairs, you heard a sound come from your silver cell. You flipped it open with a sigh, seeing Abs highlighted by a green line.

Abs: Oh, damn… Abby. We’re not on nickname basis anymore?

You pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached the bottom step.

You: Be normal about this, because I could’ve said no.

Shutting your phone, you slid them into the pocket of your pajama shorts. To purposefully ignore the rest of her texts until later. Everyone was still building their plates, walking to the dining table—including Cat, dressed in jeans and band t-shirt. Muse. “Joel, where’s the mimosa’s?” You arrived in the kitchen; Tommy hand you a ceramic plate was already plated with food.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Bug, the champagne in there has lost its bubbles— there’s no point.” He then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna congratulate you for the chapter approval!” Your father clapped his hands, causing the others to join in—Maria, Joel, Cat, and Ellie.

You kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad.” A blush frosts over your cheeks—face heating up like a furnace. “I hope we can get some by tomorrow. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

“I’m actually running downtown for a work thing…” Cat began, setting her plate at the dining table, preparing to sit. “I could grab some on the way back.”

“That’ll be perfect, Cat!” Maria exclaimed, smiling, brightly.

Why the fuck was she so nice? You almost wanted to mock your mother—even though they all just celebrated you a moment ago. Of course she’d offer to get the champagne. “Thanks, Cat.” You gave a toothless smile. A smile that plastered and could easily be noticed as fake by those around you. When you heard a snicker come from Ellie’s mouth, you knew that she noticed.

You shot her a glare, but that only made her lips spread into a wider smile. Toothy. Trying. As she settled into her chair, fork in hand.

Conversation over breakfast was light, and lovely. Slight jokes were made about Ellie’s farming skills, but nothing too much. You interacted with each other by mainly through looks and offhanded comments—enough for your mom to take notice. Nudging you under the table with her leg, but you gave her no mind.

After breakfast, you offered to clean up. And, of course, so did Ellie. You argued for a bit on who was going to wash the dishes, and who was going to dry them—settling on you washing and her drying. Cat took a taxi to wherever she needed to go, kissing the auburn-haired woman on the way out. Maria, Tommy and Joel settling in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wall, catching up on sports. Your mother was oddly into that kind of stuff. Leaving you and Ellie all to yourselves, once more.

“Thanks, Cat. You’re so full of it.”

You handed her a wet, clean dish, rolling your eyes. “You have no idea what I’m full of.” A scoff falls from your lips, slightly curling at the ends. It’s not like you were upset, you were amused—you found her amusing. There was time between the scuffle from earlier and now; plus, you had a bit of a distraction for later.

You lathered the plate, running it under the hot water to rinse it off. “Your poker face is the absolute worst. Some things just never change— be okay with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Some things never change. You’re still so fucking annoying.”

“And, I remember you also saying… Corny?”

You drop your hands in the sink, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Frankly, you missed this so bad. Meeting her eyes was like the tide rising on a beach—it always happened in way that was intertwining and overcoming. This was how Ellie Williams flirted; she was incredibly insufferable! Her voice dropped an octave, becoming a bit raspier than it already was. You were familiar because, well, she used to be yours. And, like she said, some things never change.

The only way you could respond was by peering at her. Inspecting her. Handing over the wet dish without sparing a glance at the ceramic plate. You watched as she primed her lips to speak. “All jokes aside…” She began, wiping down the plate with a turquoise towel. “I wanna apologize for the pressure earlier— coming out with me.” Finishing up, she set the dishes on the rack, leaning her lower back against the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest, the tattoo on her forearm coming into view—something you didn’t fully notice before. “I totally get the hesitation. Dina can be a… Handful at times.”

“About that…” You dried your hands, wiping the water off the counter. “I’ve actually decided to go. I could use some hometown socializing— and Jesse’s still pretty sweet.”

Her earthy eyes sized you up, squinting her eyes. “Oh, is that who you want me to set you up with?”

“Seriously, Ellie, keep your day job.” You rolled your eyes, fixing everything around the kitchen so it could look clean. “We kind of keep in touch on MySpace.”

She gasped, deepening her eyebrows. “MySpace! I don’t even have you on MySpace—! I’m friends with Jesse, I would’ve seen this.”

“Well, my username isn’t quite my name… It’s BugsWritersRoom, and my icon is a picture of a latte— I can understand the confusion.” You shrug, nonchalantly.

Ellie subtly clenched her jaw at the idea of Jesse keeping something like this from her. It was fucked up to keep her from BugsWritersRoom—Ellie needed to be in on that. Whether she was going to friend you or not. “I’m about to start writing a bit… What’s you username, so I can stalk ‘ya?” The tone of your voice insinuated that it was a joke, but you weren’t joking at all. However, it wasn’t that you couldn’t find her before; you just didn’t want to. Twenty-four hours ago you were keen on keeping your distance—that also meant watching her online.

But, since the rekindling of this stomped out fire, you might as well catch up. And she was planning to do the same.

“StarlighterWilliams…” She muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but wonder how she could shape shift from a semi-confident joker, to a bashful blusher within a few minutes—Ellie was one of a kind, certainly.

You hummed, lips curling at the sides. “Still a Savage Starlight fan, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least all those comics and merch I bought for you didn’t go to waste.” You glance at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, huffing. Before you went out tonight, you wanted to get some words out of your head—there was plenty of time, as it was only nearing one in the afternoon. But you wanted some alone time, too.

She wanted to respond with how she’d never toss the items you bought for her—something cheesy like that—but, you spoke before her. “I guess the next time I’ll see you, I won’t be in old-as-shit pajamas. What are you thinkin’—? 9:30?”

“Yeah, 9:30s fine…” Her eyes ran over your frame. The tight strappy top that clung to your adult figure, and the loose satin shorts that hung low on your hips. A water stain had grown on the middle of your stomach from washing the dishes, and because the shirt was white your skin peeked through. If only it was a little higher—

“Cool. See you later.” You walked around the island, toward your parents and Joel. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be upstairs working. Just call me.” Ellie watched as you bent down to kiss their temples, including Joel from an old habit. She watched you laugh if off, but your pace quickened toward the stairs. Your eyes flickered to hers, a causal finger pointing in her direction. “That goes for you, too.” You winked.

It was like everything was in slow motion as she watched you. Especially, that fucking wink! Yeah, Ellie understood that wink was probably for weed—it couldn’t have been anything else. “I’m getting myself into some deep trouble.” She spoke under her breath, hanging her head low.

“Hey, guys!” She spoke to the three Miller’s on the couch, stalking toward the front. “I’ll be at the guesthouse.” She waved a few fingers, with her mind occupied completely elsewhere. In the gutter, as many called it.

Joel turned around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch. “You don’t wanna see the bets for the thanksgiving game?”

Ellie didn’t even pause at the door, she responded while walking through. “Absolutely the fuck not. You kids have fun, though!”

She basically ran to the guesthouse, leaning her back against the door once she was inside. In short, she was horny. Oh, so horny—Ellie was without a muse in many different parts of her life currently. And, don’t get her wrong; her girlfriend was smoking hot, but she wasn’t you! She couldn’t be happier that Cat was out of the house. So, she could lay her back against the bed they shared, with her pants off and her hand between her legs. Mind trailing with images of you.

Meanwhile, you sat crisscrossed on your made-up bed, searching for Ellie. StarlightWilliams, she said. You clicked and scrolled until you saw her user icon. It was a picture of her playing guitar. Her short side-bangs covered her face, arms draped over the guitar she’s had for years. At least, it looked like that one that you were familiar with. The one you carved your initials into the back when you were sixteen. Somebody had taken the picture, and you hoped to God it wasn’t Cat. That was your first thought.

You were beginning to make peace with the fact that you were an asshole. Your parents raised an asshole who’s jealousy raged in a passive manner.

With hesitation, you clicked the her name. Her account popped up and was coded to absolute hell. Did she do all of this herself? The side panels had a bunch of Savage Starlight png’s floating around. And, there was a silly picture in her bio of Kenny from South Park—of course, she liked South Park.

Her mood was recently updated: Conflicted.

Her bio was very concise: i’m ellie :3. Which is then preceded by a couple music videos: Hella Good by No Doubt and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

You found yourself smiling as you scrolled down her profile, causing you to click the friend button without a second thought. Skipping over the photos of her and Cat, which wasn’t that hard to do—considering there wasn’t many. There were photos of Ellie cuddled between Jesse and Dina, looking happier than ever. Some mirror photos taken with a camera in her bathroom. Her hair mussed and choppily cut, but nonetheless, she looked good. Small nerdy shirts and low-hanging jeans, accessorized with studded belts and carabiners.

Hot.

Breaking you from what felt like a spell, your roommate began ringing your cell. She caused you to shut your laptop, and roll all over your bed talking to her. You paced around your room, playing with little knickknacks, glancing out your window to see the view of the guesthouse.

Sierra demanded to know the details about being around your teenagehood ex-girlfriend, and you told her enough. Not the intrusive thoughts about being a homewrecker, but how easily they got along. How the past had only come up once, but not in the way you thought it would. You bickered and joked and teased like nothing happened.

Now, your roommate back in Manhattan, laughed at that. She claimed that she had psychic tendencies, saying: you guys are gonna fuck nasty! You refused, feigning sounds of disgust. That wasn’t the case—that could never be the case. To change the subject, you mentioned Abby being in town, and she grimaced on the other line.

It was girl talk like no other.

After the call, you decided to quit daydreaming over Ellie’s MySpace account and actually start writing.

The next chapter you were working on was following moments after the breakup—the sorry attempts at moving on, college, moving from home.

You spent hours outlining and rough drafting, cursing at yourself because nothing was coming out right. Sooner or later, eight o’clock came around—meaning it was time for you to get ready.

Sifting through your luggage, you threw clothes over your shoulder trying to piece together an outfit. You wanted to look good, but you didn’t want to appear like you were trying too hard. Abby was gonna be there, so you couldn’t slack. And, Ellie hasn’t seen you in anything other than comfortable clothes since you reconnected.

Jeans were your safety, and a black jean vest you were going to put over a white v-neck—not forgetting the leather jacket to cover your arms and a pair of boot heels to give you some height.

You were ready by 9:15, adding perfume to the pressure points on your body. Dressing your lips in a sparkling lipgloss that complimented your skin. With a baggy purse on your shoulder, you clicked your finger on the buttons in your phone, descending the staircase.

Abs: Always so feisty, babe. See you later.

Seeing her message from earlier, you puff a frustrated breath from your lips. Babe. God, that woman needed to pipe it down—it’s like she knew you were gonna give it up, or something. That was actually something you were still unsure about.

When you appeared in the living room, your heels alerted your family to your presence. Ellie leaned against the couch, coolly, swinging her keys around her finger. She wore low-hanging jeans, a plain top with a striped long-sleeve under it with a thick jacket layered on top—probably Joel’s. “You ready to go?” You raised your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip—nerves wracking through you.

Either because of Ellie’s soft eyes on you, or the anticipation of seeing Abby. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, y-yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” She stammered, standing to her feet.

Maria sipped on a glass of wine, eyeing your clothes. “You look cute, Bug— for any reason in particular?” She raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Mom, I’m going to a bar… Why wouldn’t I look cute?”

“She’s a single woman in her twenties, Maria—“

“Let’s not.” You wave your hand, cutting Tommy off. “Ellie,” You spoke, subtly pleading.

She nodded, catching the keys in her hand. “All right, we’re going.” Ellie opened the door for you, allowing you to push toward the screen door—the one you held for her.

“Be safe!”

“Of course!” The both of you responded, glancing at each other with semi-stern eyes.

Heels clicking on the porch, you walk down the steps into the gravel. “Where’s Cat? Is she not going out with us?”

Ellie unlocked her truck, clicking the button on the remote in her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”She snickered, peering at you, unable to hide the glimmer in eyes from taking in your appearance. “Her work thing took longer than she thought. She didn’t feel like comin’ out.”

Yes!

“Ah,” You responded instead of jumping up and down, cheering. Getting into the car was a lift, hopping into the passenger seat.

Her copper truck had aged, but had that same old feel to it. Feeling the stitched seats, shamelessly, brought you back to when you were younger—sitting in her truck those first few times. It was kind of claustrophobic and intimidating being this tightly bound to Ellie.

She was less tense, shutting the door behind her. Ellie put the keys in the ignition, starting the car and turning on the radio. Blink-182, I Miss You, played low—the silence between the two of you speaking up. She scoffed under her breath, switching the radio to another station. “Too slow,” The auburn-haired woman muttered.

“I liked that song, though…” You look at her from the corner of your eye.

Hesitantly, she glanced at you, reached her hand back to the number to switch the station back to the alternative one playing Blink-182. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, putting the truck into drive.

The trip was no longer than ten minutes to the Tipsy Bison. A trip filled with radio music and glances back and forth. To occupy yourself, you played Tetris on your cell until you felt the truck slowing down in the parking lot. When she shut the car off, that’s when your nerves really picked up.

“They should already be inside.” Ellie pointed out. She inspected you the passenger seat, rigid shoulders and a clenching jaw. “You look good— great, even. It might be a little awkward, but—“

“How about this…” You run your tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry flavored gloss on your lips. “You go on ahead inside— I’ll meet you.” Pulling the handle, you hop out the truck. Your fingers rustle through your purse for the yellow pack of American Spirits and your lighter.

Ellie bunched her thick eyebrows, following you out the car. Locking the doors behind her. “What?”

“I can’t smoke inside… So, go ahead.” You popped out a cigarette, placing it between your lips.

“You sure? I feel like it’ll be easier if we walk in together.” She furrowed her eyebrows, seeing the uncomfortableness written all over your face.

“I’m sure, Ellie. Just go.” You avert your eyes, lighting the tip of the nicotine stick. Waiting for that first inhale to calm your nerves.

She stuffed her hand into her pockets, nodding her head. “I will see you inside, right?” Ellie questioned, fearing that you’d run off. Your only response was a released of smoke from your lips, and a pair of narrowed eyes. “Fuck,” She cursed. “Fine. See you inside.”

Ellie disappeared into the bar. You kicked a leg up against the wall, tapping the ash from your cigarette. Who knew what the feelings of one person could do. In your head, you played through every possible outcome of the situation—seeing Dina again. She could either be really sweet, like she used to be, or still be that grudging person that you familiarized yourself after that day.

The high beams of a shiny, black Jaguar came into your sights—blinding you. You hold up your hand, covering your eyes with arched lips. They were so bright, you didn’t realize who they belonged to until she got out. The blonde wore all black in the sleekest way possible—letting everyone know in this town that she was better than them. That was just the aura she had.

Her long blonde hair was pushed behind her ears and shifted against her black leather jacket. The high beams blinked off, as she approached you, pushing up a a pair of black sunglasses over her head.

“It’s dark out. How do you even drive with those things on?” You raise a skeptical eye, taking a drag from the cigarette between your index and middle finger.

“A hi or hello would be a preferred greeting.” Abby teased, lips spreading into a movie-star smile.

Pressing your lips into a line, ashing the rest of the cigarette out on the wall. “Hi, Abby.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder, really. Her strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. It was firm, but most importantly, warm and comforting. Your arms stretched around her back, nuzzling more into her embrace.

“I hope the cigarette’s the only reason why you’re standing out in the cold.” She pulled back just enough, to keep your bodies pressed together and to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You purse your lips.

Abby’s hand massaged your tensed shoulders. “Then, let’s get inside. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”

Ellie already had a drink in hand, and a water for you, unsure of what you wanted. Jesse and Dina had visited her many times in New York—this wasn’t a rekindling. It was just a couple of friends meeting for some beers and a few laughs. Her olive eyes kept glancing at the door waiting for you to come through in all of your glory. And, you were being timed. If you didn’t push through those doors within the next ten minutes, she was going to come out and drag you inside.

As she were about to tell them that she was going to get you, threatening Dina to be nice, you walked in. But you weren’t alone. A tall, muscular blonde had her arm around your shoulders, pulling your tight to her side. And, fucking hell, she looked so much cooler than Ellie did.

She watched as her blue eyes danced around the bar, looking for someone. They widened, and a smile spread on her lips. Hand raising to the ceiling to wave at her friends occupying a booth behind Ellie, Jessie, Dina. “Who the fuck is that?” She spoke, arching her lip in disgust—which wasn’t entirely purposely.

You noticed Ellie, standing from the table she sat at. Waving your fingers, you gave a small smile. Until your eyes landed on an obsidian-haired young woman, with a resting bitch face worse than your own. Dina was leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. You allowed Abby to guide you to the bar, ordering your usual—a double vodka cranberry.

Something about this night was going to be very, very long. Good thing Cat didn’t come out.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt

[likeumeanit9497]

in the clouds | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt is taking y/n home to boston to meet his parents for the first time, and y/n would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. but once they've been in the air for a few hours and boredom begins to get to them both, they find a way to occupy themselves.

warnings: smut; established relationship; mutual masturbation; p in v; dirty talk; a little fluff if you squint; unprotected sex; 18+

notes: i wrote this suuuuper quick so def not my best work, but it's been a while since i posted something so i wanted to get something up here. i hope ya'll enjoy!!!

“Have a great flight.” The lady at the terminal gate said to me with a smile as she handed me my scanned ticket. “Thank you.” I replied before walking towards my boyfriend, Matt, who was waiting for me a few feet ahead. Once I reached him, he grabbed my hand and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “You ready?” He asked, to which I inhaled a deep breath and nodded apprehensively.

Matt and I met at a party about eight months ago, and had hit it off right away. I had been drawn in by his sunken blue eyes and withdrawn behaviour that night, but grew hooked by his kind nature and complex personality once we began speaking regularly. We made it official less than a month after meeting, and had been inseparable since. Our relationship developed into something quite serious rather quickly, but things still somehow felt new and exciting everyday.

Today, we were flying back to his hometown in Boston, where I was going to meet his parents for the first time. Although he had reassured me countless times that MaryLou and Jimmy were going to love me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by meeting two of the most important people in Matt’s life. Not only that, but I had also never been in a relationship that grew serious enough to meet the parents of my significant other before now; so the unknown territory made the whole ordeal all the more daunting.

Matt’s triplet brothers Chris and Nick had left for Boston the day before, as I had to stay in Los Angeles an extra day for work. This added another unsettling element, as I had grown so used to the presence of the other two on a day-to-day basis. However, what that meant was Matt and I had a good excuse to buy first class tickets instead of the usual economy tickets. This brought me some relief, as I had never sat in first class before and knew that I would be able to relax much easier than I had on previous flights.

Arriving at the front of the plane, we were guided by the flight attendant to the fifth row of seats and I gasped. In front of me was a spacious row with just two large seats. The seats were joined together — separated only by an arm rest — but both had a ridiculous amount of leg room, and there was even a privacy curtain available to use at the end of the aisle.

“Oh my god Matt, this one row is almost as big as my entire bedroom at home!” I exclaimed excitedly before hurrying into my window seat. Matt chuckled before following me into the row and getting comfortable in his own seat beside mine. “I take it you like it?” He asked sarcastically, though I still nodded my head like an enthusiastic toddler. “Well, get settled in baby. We’ve got a five and a half hour flight ahead of us.” He leaned over the cushioned arm rest between our seats and planted a soft kiss on my lips. I sighed at the reminder before investigating the small gift bundle beside my seat. There were a few snacks, some travel-sized toiletries, and a pillow and blanket; I couldn’t help but squeal from excitement. “Holy shit Matt! Look at this stuff!” I quickly unfolded the blanket and wrapped myself in it as he did the same. “I know, it’s cool right. And it doesn’t stop there, watch this.” Matt smirked before reaching under his chair, when suddenly his seat reclined all the way back and transformed into a bed.

“WHAT?” I exclaimed before searching under my own seat for the recline handle. I giggled as my chair fell back and I was suddenly horizontal. “Oh my god, I am in heaven.” I sighed blissfully, stretching my arms above my head in bliss. “And look,” Matt continued, reaching for the arm rest and pushing it back so that it became flush with our beds, “Now we just have one big bed to share.” He giggled before scooting closer to my side while simultaneously grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. I laughed and rolled over so that I could face him; propping myself up on my elbow and gazing down at him. “Thank you Matty.” I said before planting a gentle kiss on his eyelid. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/n,” He chuckled, “I just can’t wait for my parents to meet you.” My heart fluttered from his words, and I repositioned my body so that I could curl into his.

“I can’t wait to meet them, either. I mean, I’m nervous as fuck but I really do want to get to know the two people who created you three weirdos.” I closed my eyes, feeling my body relax as the plane began moving down the tarmac. Matt mindlessly rubbed my back as we laughed, just waiting for the unmistakable sensation of the plane taking off.

Once we were finally in the air, I rolled over to fetch my air pods from my backpack. “Let’s listen to some music, I can’t stand all this white noise in here.” I said, handing the left pod to Matt and keeping the right for myself. Once they were secured in both of our ears, I scrolled through my Spotify account to find mine and Matt’s shared playlist before hitting shuffle. I fell onto my back and closed my eyes as the music played in both of our ears; growing more and more comfortable as my eyes grew heavy and the sensation of sleep began to overtake me.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

I was awoken from my deep sleep by the sound of a baby wailing a few aisles behind me. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I woke with a startle before remembering that I was on a plane. Slightly disoriented, I checked the time on my phone to discover that we had been in the air for four hours. I was shocked that I was able to sleep that long on a flight, since usually in the economy seats I would struggle to even get 45 minutes of true rest. I looked to my right at Matt’s sleeping figure. He was lying on his stomach with his peaceful face turned in my direction — very clearly having as deep of a sleep as I was previously having. His dark eyelashes fluttered slightly every now and then, and due to the way his face pressed against the small pillow, his pink lips were squished into an exaggerated pout.

Admiring his undeniable beauty, I had to resist the urge to lean over and pepper him with kisses. Instead, I went on my phone and began scrolling through our music playlist. After queuing a few songs, I moved onto my camera roll to kill some time as I felt boredom begin to overtake me. I felt like the biggest loser ever as I scrolled through the countless photos I had taken of Matt and I over the past few months with a corny smile plastered to my face. We truly had spent nearly every single day together since that first night that we met, and I had been sure to capture as many memories on camera as I could.

I continued to scroll for a few moments before coming across a particular memory that caused me to audibly gasp. It was a video that Matt and I had made about a month before. Our first and only sex tape. Before playing the video, I snuck a glance at Matt to make sure he was still sleeping and turned the volume down to zero so that it wouldn’t play through the air pod that was still resting in his ear. Cautiously, I hit play on the video and watched from Matt’s angle as he pounded into me from behind. To be completely honest, I had totally forgotten that we had taken that video and hadn’t even watched it before, so I stared in awe as our bodies collided again and again. The only issue was that I so badly wanted to hear the audio as my curiosity notoriously got the better of me in situations such as this. I was curious to know what I really sounded like during sex, and knew that listening to the audio was one of the only ways that I could.

Suddenly, I had an idea that would not only allow me to listen but would also have the potential to wake Matt up. Looking at him once again with a smirk across my face, I started the video from the beginning; this time with the volume about halfway up. Instantly, my right ear was filled with the unmistakably erotic sounds of our sex; body parts smacking against one another, loud moans, and the occasional dirty phrase falling from one of our mouths.

With the brightness on my phone turned down low, I watched intently at our moving bodies on my screen. I could only pull my eyes away to take a quick glance at Matt, who was beginning to shift around slightly under the blanket. I watched him for a moment, noticing that his eyes were still closed and he appeared to still be sound asleep. Growing frustrated that he still wasn’t waking up, I turned the sound on my phone to maximum volume just as the recorded version of him and I were reaching our climaxes. The crude noises became more and more erratic as the volume increased, and suddenly Matt’s blue eyes shot open.

He scanned the area frantically, obviously disoriented and confused by the sounds swarming his ears. When his eyes finally met mine and he noticed the playful smile on my face, he visibly relaxed and rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Y/n, what the fuck are you watching?” He asked through a chuckle before leaning towards me to take a glance at my phone screen. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” He added once he caught a glimpse of the two of us in the video; falling onto his back and covering his eyes with his crossed arms.

I collapsed into a fit of laughter before innocently replying, “What?”, fluttering my eyelashes and softening my voice. He simply shook his head, but I could see his lips curling into a smile behind his protective arms. “Don’t get me started, baby. Get some rest.” Was his reply, and I grumbled internally. I was far from tired, not only because I had already slept for four hours, but because I had just worked myself up for the past few minutes by watching that video. Still, I reluctantly obliged by hitting shuffle on our playlist once again before finding a comfortable position to attempt to get a bit more sleep.

My eyes were closed, my breathing was steady, but my body was wide awake; so I felt the shift that came from Matt sitting up in the bed. I was laying on my side with my back facing him, but through the soft music playing in my ear I could hear the privacy curtain slide across its rod. My eyes stayed shut as I felt the warmth of his body pressing up against me. I pretended to not feel his hand gently gliding across the curves of my hips, or his hardening member nudging against my thigh. However, once his lips pressed against the sensitive spot on my neck, my body began to fail me in its pretend ignorance. He delicately sucked on my thin skin, and my pulse began to quicken. His cool breath tickled my neck and I shivered in anticipation. His hand slowly traveled from my hip down my stomach, before finally reaching under my waistband towards my core, and I released a shaky breath.

I felt his lips upturn into a smile against my neck at my clear response. “Oh, so you are awake.” He teased, moving his hand away from my heat and resting his chin in the crook of my neck. I opened my eyes to a squint and looked at him. “What are you doing?” I asked with a slight whine in my voice. He scoffed dramatically. “What, you think you could play a video like that and expect me not to get worked up?” I smiled shyly before responding. “I just wanted to wake you. I was bored.” He scooted himself even closer to me, so that now our bodies were pressed tight against each other. “Oh yeah?” He placed a kiss to my neck again, this time tugging lightly at the skin with his teeth. “And what did you want to do to try to counteract this boredom?” He whispered, and my breath hitched as he brought a hand under my shirt and began fondling my sensitive nipples.

I closed my eyes before turning my body so that I was now facing him. “Matt, we are on a plane right now.” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper by the end of my sentence. He smirked before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “That’s what the curtain is for, sweetheart.” My eyes shifted to the space behind him, where the curtain was shut and properly secured by a hook near his head. My focus was brought back to him as I felt his hands gently begin tugging down my sweatpants. “You just have to be quiet for me, okay?” I gulped nervously before nodding my head mindlessly, already growing distracted by the arousal beginning to form in my panties.

Matt pulled me closer to him before placing a soft kiss against my lips. His hand gently ran up and down my inner thigh, just barely grazing my heat with each stroke. He placed another kiss against my lips, this one longer and deeper than the first, and he put his right leg between my knees to prop them up and apart. Our mouths moved against each other in sync, and my hands began to travel through his hair, over his shoulders, and finally down to his stomach. I hissed when he finally cupped his hand over my heat, his thumb just barely resting on my clit. Even through the thin layer of fabric that was my panties, the contact was intense. “Mmm, baby, you’re already so wet for me.” He mumbled gruffly against my lips, causing me to squirm.

“Touch me Matty, please.” I begged softly, my eyes pleading as my core began to throb. He chuckled, our teeth clanking together gently, before attacking my neck with his mouth. “So needy, huh? You want these fingers?” He cooed, sliding two of his fingers — now hooked under my panties — up my slit to collect my juices. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my bottom lip as I nodded frantically. “Mhm.” Was all I managed to get out in response to his question. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He was taunting me, both with his words and with his fingers as he toyed with my outer folds. I squirmed again, shifting slightly so that I was more on my back so that I could widen my legs easier. “N-need your fingers baby.” I managed to groan out, doing my best to keep my voice low so that our actions could go unnoticed by everyone around us.

Now leaning over me slightly, he looked down at me with hooded eyelids and a matching smirk. “That’s my girl.” He replied before finally rubbing circles on my swollen clit. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I became engulfed in the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation. I opened my eyes to find his traveling across my face. He had clearly been watching me in my state of ecstasy, and his blown out pupils and parted wet lips were clear signs that he was liking what he was seeing. Suddenly, a sharp moan escaped my lips as he plunged two of his fingers into me, and he quickly planted a firm hand over my mouth to prevent any more noises as he curled his fingers in and out of me mercilessly. The sensation became almost too much once he connected the base of his palm to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his other movements, and almost without thinking I began clawing at the waist band of his sweatpants; desperate to feel more of him.

I pulled his sweats and his boxers down in one swift movement, and immediately began toying with his rock hard cock. Looking up at him as he continued his movements, I brought my hand to my mouth and allowed my collected saliva to drip onto it before bringing it back to his member. I began milking the tip of his cock and immediately noticed a change of pace in his fingers on my cunt. I watched his face as his eyes fluttered shut momentarily and his ears began to grow red. “Fuck, Y/n.” He moaned softly, his words alone enough to drive me crazy. I continued to stroke him, feeling each and every vein along his sizeable shaft, as I felt the familiar tingling sensation of an orgasm fast approaching.

“I-I need more of you Matty. Give me your cock please.” I was really begging now. My legs were beginning to shake and I was close to losing all control, but I wanted to cum around him. I watched as Matt’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as his dick twitched in my hand, a clear sign that my words had an impact on him, too. “Turn on your side.” He commanded, and I immediately obliged. Once I was facing away from him, he wasted no time in lying down beside me — one of his arms wrapped across my chest and massaging my right tit — and sliding his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

We both couldn’t help but release small moans at the satisfying feeling that came from him bottoming out, but he gave me little time to adjust to his size before thrusting into me almost desperately. Using his grasp on my tit, he pushed my back against his chest so that my body was flush with his. “Jesus baby, you’re so tight.” He praised softly, his mouth pressed against my ear as his hips continued to snap against my ass. I couldn’t manage a reply, instead I brought my right hand up to grab onto the back of his neck. I fell into a deep trance from the feeling of my spongey walls stretching and moulding to his cock as if they were two matching puzzle pieces. He left sloppy open mouthed kisses all along my face, growing careless with his movements as the pressure in my lower half began to grow almost unbearable.

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart.” He breathed against my hair. I couldn’t do much more than nod my head. “It’s okay, let go. Just be a good girl and stay quiet for me okay?” He used his free hand to once again cover my mouth in anticipation of what might come just as my orgasm bubbled over. I did everything I could to stay silent, but as my orgasm tore through me a plethora of moans fell from my lips and into his gentle hand. My grip on the back of his neck tightened and my back arched away from his torso as I felt the unmistakable warm spurt of fluid stream from my cunt.

Just as I began coming down from my high, Matt released a few short grunts before halting his movements entirely. “Fuuuuck.” His profanity came out in a breathy sigh. His forehead fell to my shoulder, and I could feel his dick pulsating inside of me as he painted my walls with his cum. After a moment, I felt his body relax behind me and he collapsed onto his pillow. For a little while, the only sounds coming from our little corner of the plane was the sound of our ragged breathing as we attempted to regain our composure.

“Well,” Matt eventually began, sitting up and lifting the blanket, exposing the wet spot in the bed that my squirt created, “How are we gonna explain this one?” I took a moment to look at it before sliding my sweats back on. “Easy, we just tell them that you got a little scared of the turbulence and pissed yourself.” He rolled his eyes as he put his pants back on as well, and I laughed. “You’re something else kid.”

Just then, a woman’s voice came from behind the closed curtain. Matt looked at me quickly to ensure that I was fully clothed before opening the curtain and coming face to face with an older flight attendant. “Hi there.” She said, her voice cheerful and her face plastered with a fake smile. “We’re going to be making our landing in Boston in about thirty minutes, please return to an upright position as soon as you can.” Matt nodded his head and gave her a quick smile before she promptly moved down to the next row of flyers. As soon as she was out of earshot, he gave me a cheeky side eye and we both immediately broke into fits of laughter.

“We timed that well.” He said through his laughter and I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t believe we just did that.” I replied, shaking my head as I came to the realization that I had just fucked my boyfriend on a commercial flight. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. “We’re in the mile high club now, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now let’s get our seats back up. Only thirty minutes until you meet my parents!”

[manicmanuscription]

The Wait

SJM x Reader Week Day Five @sjmxreaderweek

Prompt: Heirs / Lords / Ladies

Pairing: Rhysand / Reader

Summary: Reader didn't expect carrying the future heir of the Night Court to be so anxiety inducing.

Tags: separation anxiety, possessive rhysand, hormonal reader, nothing but pregnancy fluff! not proofread oh also making out -light

Word Count: 1085

A/N: Sorry if this is bad y'all, I forgot to prepare something for today and then I nearly forgot to post it so it's super rushed smhhh 🤦‍♀️

SJM x Reader Week | Acotar Masterlist

I stood up from my chair once again, putting the book I’d skimmed through back on the bookshelf that was the fourth one that had bored me. I read a few titles but not comprehending any of them. This is fine, I’m fine. 

I waddled over to the next bookshelf, none of the titles really standing out to me and I nervously chewed on my lip as my mind wandered to mate once again. 

I was seven months pregnant, Rhysand had barely left my side and the last time I ventured outside the gardens of my own home was making the announcement of our Heir to the Hewn City. Then my mate and I had practically become shut-ins. Rhys even going so far as to lessen monthly dinners with our own family which had already become scarce with everyone's busy schedules.

He would’ve banned them from this house completely after Cassian had given me a congratulatory hug but I told him I would go crazy and skin him alive if I didn’t at least interact with our own friends.

It had been surprisingly nice, we had taken long needed breaks from work except for emergencies and the house was quite large so I didn’t feel too stir-crazy. 

Except for when my mate left me alone. 

This was only the third time he’d been called away for court duties, the trips usually lasting a few hours but each time felt a sentence worse than death. 

Madja had told me the heightened anxiety was due to having such an attentive mate, my pregnancy brain becoming so used to his constant presence that even when he walked down to the bakery to fetch my cravings my brain told me he would get terribly injured and never return to my side again. 

Who knew such a blessing could be such a curse?

I paced in front of the bookshelves, barely looking at the spines. I could handle a few hours without my mate, this had been an emergency with Keir and I didn’t want him to worry about me he already had enough on his plate. 

I already felt guilty enough for needing him so much, I wouldn’t feel guilty for cutting his meeting short as well. 

“You need to stop pacing.” The shadowsinger spoke from the couches.

“I’m not pacing.” I snapped harshly grabbing yet another book, the weight of my belly making my back hurt all day and I waddled to Rhysand’s favorite reading chair taking a few minutes to get comfortable. 

“I’m sorry for being short with you.” I murmured as I adjusted the knitted blanket for the second time. I just couldn’t relax, all of my instinct’s aware of every noise that went on in this house. My nerves like a frayed wire and the thought of how I’d spoken to my friend like that had me on the verge of tears. 

Gods these hormones were going to fucking kill me.

“It’s alright.” He brushed off turning the page in his book. 

I sniffled, blinking back tears and opened the book, skipping over every other line. After a few minutes I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up again. Everything felt wrong, the chair, my blanket, even the clothes on my skin. My mind couldn't help but wander...what if something bad had happened? Or if someone had gotten hurt?

I set the book back trying to take deep breath’s Azriel had already assured me everything was fine, multiple times in fact and nearly every time I’d bitten his head off. I was on the hunt for another book when darkness flickered in the room and the scent of my mate washed over me. Instantly settling all my nerves. 

I turned around to face him and he smiled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be gone for another few hours?” I asked even as a grin graced my face. 

Rhysand didn’t even look at Azriel who’d been preparing to leave, unbeknownst to me the spymaster had only been following his job description and reporting my state back to my mate. Well your mood swings may scare him, a deeply powerful male with a pregnant wife at him and his instinct’s all haywire scared him even more. 

“It wasn’t a big deal, able to end the meeting early.” He shrugged and I hugged him, the belly bump slightly in the way but not enough that his scent didn’t intensity at proximity and make the bond hum in happiness. I was too happy he was home to consider if he was lying even though he was it didn’t matter Rhysand wanted to be with you just as badly, his own nerves calming seeing you safe and sound.

“Leave.” Rhysand ordered and before the last syllable left his mouth Azriel was already gone, disappearing to wherever. “How are you doing my love?” He asked me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Better now.” I murmured, tapping my lips indicating I wanted a kiss. He was quite tall and with the baby I couldn’t reach up on my tippy toes anymore. 

He smiled, settling his hands on my lower back and tugging my close. Giving me a quick peck on the lips before pulling away. “Uhm, what was that?” 

“What was what?” He cocked his head to the side, feigning innocence and if it weren't for this baby my feelings wouldn’t be hurt, but they were. I turned away from him crossing my arms, fine. Two could play at that game. 

“C’mon don’t be mad darling.” His voice dropped and a shiver ran down my spine. Bastard doing that to me on purpose. He stood behind me, sliding his hands underneath the baby bump and taking the weight off my feet and I let out a loud moan. 

Fluttering my eyes shut at the heavenly sensation, his early transgression almost completely forgot about until he brought it up again. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispered in my ear, pressing long kisses to the juncture of my throat before tilting my head and giving my lips a proper claiming. 

His tongue dominated my own and I lost all sense of time, breathless when he finally pulled away. “What are you reading there love?”

I had forgotten about the book in my hand and with a quick glance at the title I realized it was one of my favorites, a book of fables and mini stories with usually dark or mysterious endings. 

“Can you read to me?”

“Of course I can, darling.” He settled himself on the reading chair, tugging my into his lap and pulling the blanket over the both of us. It felt so much cozier than before and I nuzzled my head into his neck, sinking further into him as he began reading to me, all my earlier anxiety completly gone.

[bratbby333]

a proper send off — toji fushiguro

synopsis: step daddy!toji trains ur holes stakes his claim before you go off to college ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content warnings: taboo; step!cest, age gap (reader is over 18!), rough sex, lots of praise, teasing, heavy use of pet names, dom/sub, dd/lg, p in v, cervix-fucking, tummy bulge, buttplug, throat-fucking, edging, overstimulation, mating press, creampie ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ word count: 5.3k...straight filth ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: i was in a very specific mood when i wrote this...i hope you all enjoy!! xx not beta read !

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

"Toji!" you chirped, running toward the buff older man as he exited his vehicle. His arms stretched wide as he met you on the sidewalk, leaning down to catch your small figure as you leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He gripped you tight against his body, rocking the two of you back and forth. 

You had only been apart for about four hours, but it might as well had been three months with the way the two of you clung to one another. 

"How was orientation, my sweet girl?" Toji asked, lowering you to the ground gently, placing a light peck on the top of your head. Your small hand wrapped around his last two fingers as he guided you toward the car, opening the door and getting you settled in the passenger seat.

"Mmmm, super boring...but I learned a lot!" you beamed, shuffling your feet around the floorboards while he turned the key in the ignition. 

The ride home was filled with you telling Toji all about your class schedule, which courses you were excited about, and how your new dorm looked after you had finished decorating it. He smiled kindly, offering the occasional hum or nod in response—he found your aimless ramblings so precious. Your darling voice was like music to his ears. His sweet little girl.

But something plagued his thoughts during the forty-five minute trip. A lingering appetite that he worked so hard to suppress. A dark, elusive feeling that manifested in the pit of his stomach. His grip was tight on the steering wheel, teeth gritted ever so slightly. Worry crept across his face at the realization that the dreaded day rapidly approached him. He was sure he had more time.

He was going to lose you, the inevitability of college now knocking at the door. 

He had gotten so used to having you around, falling in love with your sickeningly sweet nature, your tantalizing aura that oozed innocence. He worried that you wouldn't make it out there on your own; even at your grown age you still looked to him for any sort of guidance, big or small. He loved it. Loved how much you depended on him, how you couldn't live without him.

He knew the sudden departure of your mother hurt you more than you let on, so he made it his mission to keep you safe, feeling wholeheartedly responsible for your well-being, even though he had only been in your life for about a year. 

It was the most fulfilling year he'd ever experienced, far better than the time he had spent with your mother. It was unexpected, hell, it was even frowned upon, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He loved you more than he ever could have loved her, feeling an odd sense of relief when she had finally left, and feeling elated when you decided to stay with him rather than her. A burning question stirred in the back of his mind; were these feelings reciprocated? He didn’t dare find out the answer, instead hoping it would be presented to him first.

It didn’t take much time for the truth to unfurl right before his eyes; why you really wanted to live with him rather than your mom, the (not so) innocent way you began to cling to him…oh, how you loved your Daddy, and how he loved his little girl, too.

Toji knew there was evil out there, people who would take advantage of your soft heart and overly-trusting nature without a second thought. He couldn't let you get hurt.

He tried his best to convince you not to go to college, or at the very least, just commute to campus each day. He wanted to keep you close, to be there for you, to protect you. 

He was successful at getting you to take a gap year, but he could tell his baby girl was getting antsy. Your stubbornness persevered— adamant about furthering your education and staying in the dorms. You were set on going out on your own and he knew he couldn't stop you anymore. 

But he couldn't send his pretty girl out into the world without breaking her in first. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon immediate entry to your home, you were ordered to the bedroom, the rough rasp of Toji's voice echoing through your ears as you made your way to his room. 

"Daddy, did I do somethin’ wrong," you questioned softly, lips pouted slightly, voice quiet as you fumbled with the hem of your short, pleated skirt. Seated on the edge of the bed, you kicked your feet around anxiously as he stared down at you. 

"No, nothin' like that, sweetheart," he soothed, grasping your face in hands, his rough thumbs dragging across your blushed cheeks. Your wide eyes swam with curiosity as you stared back up at him.

"Listen t'me very closely, darlin'," he continued, crouching down to your level. Your neck instinctively relaxed, your head falling into his hands, nuzzling into his grasp. "You're going out into the world alone...I won't be around to keep you outta trouble anymore..." his voice trailed off as his eyes searched yours. 

"Mhmm, I know, Daddy," you giggled back, "Y'tell me that everyday." This is why he loved having you to all to himself...in public, he was "Toji"; in private, you only ever called him "Daddy". His little girl was damn good at keeping secrets...it only made things more exciting.

The look in your eyes drove Toji wild; deep, enticing pools of virtue. It was only right that he got to be the one to ruin you, to give you a proper send-off. He hated the idea of you being with someone that wasn't him, so he hoped, prayed, to mold your pussy perfectly around his cock to ensure no other man could live up to the standard he set in your life.

A slight growl erupted from the back of his throat as he continued to pet you. "There's somethin' we gotta do, baby girl,'' he took a knee in front of you, his hands resting atop your plush thighs, massaging them gently. 

"You 'member what we had talked about when you finally decided to go away for college?" he added, working his way up under your skirt. Your breath hitched as you focused on the circles he was drawing on your upper thighs, your head dropping to the side. 

"Uh huh...I do, Daddy," you were already breathless as anticipation swirled through your stomach. Toji hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs. Your shirt was removed next, leaving you in only your lacy ankle socks and skirt. 

"You ready? Think ya can handle this, angel?" he asked sternly as he strummed around your warm center. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he played with your pussy. "Uh huh..mmm...yes, D-daddy..'m ready," your voice wavered as his thick finger prodded at your needy hole. 

He pushed you back onto the bed, dipping his digit into the second knuckle, curling it slightly to toy with your g spot. You were already a moaning mess for him, the high pitched whimpers that fell from your lips sent pangs of arousal straight to his dick. The way you writhed around for him at the smallest stimulation made his skin burn. 

Every moment you spent watching him from afar, your innocent daydreams that manifested into dark desires at night, the way you’d hug him for just a bit longer than usual; each time his mind wandered to you, guilt nipping at his spine…it was all worth it.

He was addicted to you well before he ever actually had you— but after that fateful night, a few weeks after the divorce was finalized and your mom moved out, with your unexpected appearance in his room as you crawled into bed with him. The way your arms wrapped so tight around him, how your soft breaths danced so delicately across his bare skin, how perfectly your nestled head fit into the crook of his neck. His appetite became insatiable...his baby girl. The smoothness of your skin as he traced drifting lines around each curve of your precious figure. He couldn't get enough. 

Toji dipped down to kiss along your sweet skin as his finger continued to shallowly work into your dripping cunt. He licked and nipped at you, the taste of your flesh overwhelming his senses. His tongue narrowed as he got to your ear, lapping at it feverishly, suckling at your lobe. "Sound so good f'me, baby." You panted at his words, the coils in your tummy beginning to bubble up. 

He felt you clench around him and immediately withdrew from you. You whined at his absence, your hole spasming around nothing, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt to quell the pulsing between your legs. He grinned at your anguished huffs as he stood, removing his clothes. Your need for release still churned in your stomach as a small groan left your lips, pouting up at him. Toji only chuckled in response. "Not yet, sweetheart..." he teased, tossing his shirt aside. He was moving in accordance with his deepest, darkest secrets...he needed you to want him, to crave him, to not want to exist without him.

You knew better than to complain, Daddy always came through for you.

"How do you wanna start, princess," he asked while discarding his jeans, his throbbing girth standing proud in front of you. He loved when you asked for what you wanted, when you spoke your mind without shame. That’s a big part of being independent, right? He wanted to teach you, after all.

"Can I suck it, Daddy...love the way you taste," you mewled, your words coated with neediness as you leaned forward to grasp him in your small hands, licking your lips as spit pooled in your mouth. Toji had you right where he wanted you, he worked hard to fine-tune your body to respond to him and only him. You were completely wrapped around his finger. You looked starved, desperate for his cock to pound into your throat. 

"Of course, baby, gotta train that mouth of yours, hmm?" he teased, smirking as he positioned himself in front of you. "Already take me so well...let's see how deep you can go." His thick, dripping head pushed past your lips, your tongue swirling around his tip as you worked to take him further, choking on him as he settled in the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as you struggled to breathe around his substantial girth. "Relax, baby girl...breathe through your nose f'me," he soothed, running his fingers through your hair before squeezing the sides of your cheeks. "Look s’pretty like this," he grunted, his hips rocking into your mouth slowly.

He worked his cock in and out, groaning at how tight your throat was constricting around him. "Mouth's so hot n wet f'me..doin so good princess," he muttered, his jaw tight as he watched his dick slide between your taut lips. He grasped at the back of your head firmly, his other hand still squeezing at your hollowed out cheeks. "That’s it…keep it nice n tight."

His pace picked up, the sloppy sounds of Toji fucking into the back of your throat danced around the heady air of the room. You stared up at him, blinking away the tears that poured from your eyes, eager to capture the way his face twisted in pleasure as trails of spit dribbled down your chin. You loved pleasing him…loved the way that even the biggest and strongest men’s composure could waver. You knew Daddy’s tipping point, and you were dead-set on taking him there.

You felt him twitch inside your mouth as you hummed against him, the vibrations running through his cock and straight to his balls, his head thrown back at the added stimulation. "Mmm, there ya go, sweetheart...so fuckin' good. Pretty girl wants my cum, huh?" 

You nodded furiously, or as much as you could with his dick in your mouth and his hand still palming the back of your head, his strokes forcing you to take all of him. 

You gasped and coughed as Toji abruptly pulled your head off him, smearing a mixture of saliva and pre cum across your cheeks as he rubbed himself around your lips. "Open...tongue out for me, baby girl," he commanded. You obeyed immediately, your wide, pleading eyes staring up at him as Toji smacked his rock-hard girth against your hot tongue.

His hands gripped either side of your head, pulling your hair into makeshift pigtails as he shoved into your mouth again, smirking as you gagged around him, spit running between your tits and pooling in your lap. His eyes went dark at the sight, utterly consumed by how beautiful you looked while you sucked him off. God, how he’d miss his little girl. He pulled you off him again, amused at how much his princess was struggling to take him. "C'mon, doll, I know you can do better than that," he taunted, before ramming himself back in. 

Your lungs burned while your mouth stretched wide to accommodate him, his thick head bullying the back of your throat. “Stay with me,” he grunted as he left small smacks against your taut cheeks. You fought against your heavy eyelids, struggling to hold his gaze. 

With a rough jut of his hips, your nose was flush against his pelvis while he unloaded down your throat. Tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks at the inundation, heat coursing through you at the carnal sounds that left his chest. He pulled out with a pop, leaving you sputtering and coughing. The savory warmth of his cum coated your tongue, licking your lips to ensure you didn't waste a drop.

You dizzily gazed up at him as you worked to regain your breath. "Open up, show me you swallowed it all," he murmured, his breathing labored as he cupped the underside of your chin. Your lips parted as you stuck your tongue out. Toji hummed in approval as he checked your mouth for any remaining trace of his seed. "Good fucking girl...so needy for Daddy's cum, huh?" You nodded, giggling breathlessly, your throat sore from Toji's intimidating girth.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart," he said firmly, stroking himself as he watched you readjust on the bed. Toji kneeled on the edge, grasping your legs and throwing them around his waist. "So pretty...you know those boys will be all over you, yeah?" 

You shook your head furiously, pouting at the thought of being with anyone but Toji. "N-no, no daddy...only wan' you," you huffed, locking your feet behind his back. Your hands splayed across his abdomen, tracing lines around his prominent muscles. He leaned forward to position himself at your soaked core. "Mm..I know, doll," he cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as his other arm propped himself up. "But I gotta get you good n ready just in case. I can't have you embarrassing me out there...I did raise you, after all," he spoke low, the rasp of his voice sending chills to your core. 

“Some of 'em will be gentle with ya,” he murmured, inching deeper and deeper into you. His face was kind, a small smile twitching on his lips. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with adoration and arousal, the o-shape of your swollen, parted lips and flushed cheeks pulled a raspy groan from his chest. 

He sunk into your warmth, his thick cock dragging in and out gently, his head brushing against your sweet spot with merciful thrusts.

You fussed at his teasingly slow pace, his girth stretching you out perfectly. It took every ounce of his willpower to not break you in half right then and there, driving himself into you with fervor, the jealousy biting at his spine fueling each rough jut of his hips at the thought of you with someone else. He maintained his leisurely rhythm, working you up until you reached your breaking point. "Need more..ahh...p-please Daddy...give m'more," you begged.

“Mmm, I know you do...but I gotta show you what you're gonna get when you mess with boys." His unhurried strokes antagonized your milky cunt that ached to be pounded properly. You writhed around underneath him, bucking your hips in hopes that he’d give you more, but you knew your efforts were all in vain. Toji smiled down at you with a raise of his brow, still inadequately sliding into you. Oh how he loved how needy you were for him, how easy it was to make you squirm. You were close to breaking down, tears beginning to surface as you begged for him to go faster, harder…anything. 

“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” he taunted, his palms on either side of your cheeks, rubbing away your tears with a quick flick of his thumbs. “Uh uh…need more, please,” you whined, pressing your head against his hands. 

Toji stared down at you with a coy smile as he watched you unravel, how hungry your sopping walls were for a good pounding. He wanted to play with you some more, to have you crying over how badly you need him. "Ya like it rough, isn’t that right, my sweet girl?” He toyed with your puffy clit as his tempo remained steady. “Love when I use you as my pretty little fleshlight, yeah?”

You nodded furiously. He grinned down at you, pulling your hips up toward him as his tempo suddenly changed, the new angle pounding directly into your g spot. 

“A…ahh!! F-fuckkk, Daddy,” you cried out, your head bouncing around to match his forceful rhythm. His hips were mercilessly rutting into you, every jolt bringing you closer and closer to your release as he continued to thumb at your swollen clit. You clenched around him, eyes locked on his as short pants left your lips.

"No, baby...not yet." He pulled out immediately, flipping you, lifting your hips as he shoved a pillow under your stomach. His hands rubbed circles into the flesh of your ass as he prodded himself against your cunt. You moaned, ready to complain to him as your body ached for release. His palm found the back of your head, pushing your face into the mattress, successfully silencing you. “Shh…let me play with you, princess.”

Toji flipped up your skirt to reveal the pink rhinestone nestled perfectly between your cheeks. "That's my girl, kept it in all day f'me, hmm?" He gripped the plug and pulled it out, spitting a fat glob of saliva onto the hole before circling the sensitive ring and shoving it back in, plunging the toy in and out of your tightness. 

Your hips pushed toward him, your already broken resolve absolutely crumbling from the prodding sensation in your ass. You prayed he'd let you cum soon. An unbearable ache coursed through you; a dull, evil reminder of your denied orgasms. 

"M-mmhm..wanna be so good f'you, Daddy.” Your head spun, the static sobs that ripped though your sore throat bounced through the room, echoing through Toji's ribcage and ricocheting around his heart.

He couldn't help the twisted smile that cracked across his face, his precious little girl, how obsessed you were with his cock, how gluttonous you were to have him nestled within your gummy walls. 

Truth be told, he was ravenous for your warmth. He loved how quickly he could wind you up and how easy it was to make you snap. He adored the way you shook when he'd bottomed out against you, the precious sounds that you made only for him.

His chest tightened at the gnawing thought of not having you anymore. He couldn't let you know that...couldn't show you how badly he needed you, how much he loved you and your perfect pussy. He gritted his teeth at his insecurities; his nagging fear of losing you, how he dreaded letting you go. How desperate he was to make this last forever. 

He prodded himself in and out... in and out... iiin and ooout, only giving you about an inch each time before he removed himself again, his brows furrowed with a hungered expression, wanting to savor the way you sucked him in with greed. Your hole clenched down on him in a pitiful attempt to keep him inside, only for him to leave you empty once more. "P-plea..se, Daddy," your voice trembled, "Need you so so bad," your head thrashed around as you babbled, your thighs shaking as Toji tormented your gushing cunt. He smirked down at your twitching frame, getting off on how needy you were, how your back arched so deeply in hopes that he'd push all the way in. 

"Already cock drunk and I've barely fucked you, hmm?" His aching cock teased at your spasming entrance some more, his fingers pushing and pulling the plug in and out of your ass. Your soft whines circled around his head, his chin tucked into his clavicle as he watched your holes stretch at the intrusions. “My dirty fuckin’ girl…you love when I tease you, don’t ya?”

“I–” your words caught in your throat as he shoved all the way, the head of his cock caressing the deepest parts of you with ease, the delicious girth of his member stretching you out so fucking perfectly. Your cheek pressed firm against the mattress, hands pulling at the sheets, your fists balled up tight around the fabric as overstimulating pleasure raked through you. Relishing in sinful bliss as Daddy finally gave you what you so pitifully longed for, the rough jerk of his hips smacking into the fat of your ass.

Toji was unraveling. His darkened gaze raked up and down your figure, reveling in the way your flesh rippled at the strength of his unrelenting strokes. He leaned over, one hand pressed into your lower back, the other grabbing hold of your bunched up skirt, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

“S-so–ungh–so deep, Daddy,” you mewled. Toji smirked, reaching around to press a firm palm against your tummy, growling as he felt himself deep in your gushy walls. “Mmm, I know, princess, but you’re taking me so well.” His brutal pace was splitting you in half. It felt unreal, impossible even, that nirvana had begun to manifest within your reality in the form of Toji’s thick cock absolutely destroying you, your gushing cunt greedily sucking him in, yearning to savor your little slice of paradise. 

“God, this pussy was made for me, huh? So fuckin’ perfect.” His filthy words sent undulations of ecstasy through you, making you constrict around him, the coils in your stomach forming once again.

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t ya,” he huffed out, his fingers trailing lower to rub your clit. You clenched down on him, a tell-tale sign of affirmation. His thick tip brushed against your cervix, making you cry out, relishing in bliss on the steps toward heaven’s gates.

“Ahhh! Y-yes!…oh, Daddy, yes!” You were a blubbering mess, the tightening sensation in your stomach increasing tenfold at his added stimulation.

Toji’s mind was in shambles as he battled his own filthy conscience, torn between denying your pleasure once more or redirecting his attention toward his new goal: make you fall apart on him over and over again. He struggled to weigh his options as your cock-drunk cries echoed through the room, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin clouding his mind.

“Grippin’ me s’tight, princess. Fuuuck– wanna cum, baby girl?” His jaw locked as his fingers dug into your soft skin. “Mhm…,” your voice was airy as you nodded vigorously, trying your hardest to form coherent sentences as his heavy balls slapped against you, “...pleasepleaseplease, Daddy–ugnhh–wanna cum s’bad…wan’ cum f’you,” you rambled, drunk off the way he was splitting you in half. The squelching sounds of your greedy little cunt coupled with your staggered whimpers and filthy begging finalized his desicion; Fuck breaking you in, Daddy was going to break you.

“That’s it…c’mon, baby,” his mean, persistent thrusts made your head spin, his fingers rubbing quick circles against your throbbing clit. “Cum. Now. Make a mess on Daddy,” he growled. Your eyes screwed shut, his permission ringing through your ears as you felt the tension in your stomach finally snap. Your face contorted as you squirted, painting your sweet juices onto his strong thighs. An animalistic growl broke through Toji’s chest as he worked you through your blinding orgasm, spurred on by the warm spray beading down his lower half and onto the mattress below you.

He pumped into you a few more times before pulling out. You nearly sobbed at the emptiness. As overstimulating as Daddy’s cock was, you couldn’t help but revel in the way he stuffed you. Your head spun while he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back, his strong hands pressing against your thighs. “Hold your legs there f’me, pretty girl,” he rasped. You diligently obeyed, your shaking hands anchoring into the pits of your knee, pulling your legs deeper into your sides as he rubbed himself against your drenched folds, the firm pressure of his shaft against your clit sending chills through your exhausted body.

You stared at him with a low-lidded expression.Your mouth fell agape while he smacked his member against your clit. A trail of spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth as he sunk back into you, your eyes shooting open as you cried out for him. He returned to his harsh pace immediately, giving you no time to recover from your orgasm. His hands replaced yours against the back of your legs. You clawed down his taut abdomen as he used his new found leverage to bury himself deeper inside you with every rough bump of his hips. 

“D-daddy–ahhh!– ‘s too much,” you cried out, your palms pressing into his torso in hopes he’d slow down a bit.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he growled, “Be good…play with your pussy f’me,” his cock colliding with the furthest wall of your gushing cunt. His palm pressed against your tummy, nasty groans falling from his lips as the added pressure made you even tighter. “You jus’ feel too good, princess.” His breathing staggered as he reveled in your warmth.

“So deep…oh, fuuuck! Daddy you’re so f-fucking deep,” you babbled, your words drawn out as electricity shot to your core, your fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. Your walls fluttered, the churning in your stomach returning with urgency. You clenched down around him, guiding the head of his cock to drive straight into your sweet spot. 

“Fuckin’ milkin’ me…gonna come again, baby girl?” You nodded profusely, ears ringing as your eyes rolled back. Your brain was numb—he was all you could feel, the only thing that made sense; Daddy. You were delirious, dickmatised, even. Oh how badly you wanted to marinate in this bliss, to make it last forever.

“Gimme another one…c’mon,” Toji’s foundation wavered as he stared down at you, pure, unadulterated lust swirling around his irises. He was about to break, utterly consumed by all things you. The sweet sounds you made for him, how perfectly your cunt molded around him, the way your sloppy walls hugged him so tight as you came around him once more. You were made for him and vice versa. 

“That’s it baby–Good…Fucking…Girl.” You cried out as his thrusts emphasized his praise, burying himself impossibly deep, his head kissing your womb. 

Every neuron in your body fired off at once as his strokes persisted. You were beyond saving, your entire existence orbiting around the man that was actively breaking you in half. He was the driving force in your life, the sole reason your atoms continued to vibrate and your heart pumped crimson through you. He was everything. 

Toji watched as you fell apart, expelling all the air from his lungs as he released a deep, guttural moan. The sight of your trembling body and the feeling of your quivering cunt around him made his heart beat with such fervor it practically slammed into his ribs. But it wasn’t enough, not right now. Not in the state of vulnerability, of fear, that he found himself in. He wasn’t ready for this to end. And it wasn’t going to, not if he could help it. 

He grinned down at you, his words bouncing around your skull as you attempted to wrap your head around his request: “Again.”

You wanted to give up, knowing damn well it would break you if you came any more. But when Daddy demanded another orgasm from his sweet little girl, you delivered. You’d be foolish not to.

“One more…just give me one more,” he coaxed, his fingers replacing yours, thrumming viciously at your clit. “C’mon, baby girl…Make me proud,” his head cocked to the side as he watched your pleading eyes shut once more, succumbing to the waves you had no choice but to ride.

Another soul-crushing orgasm raked its way through you. Every sense in your body dulled and heightened simultaneously. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out in delight, your body drowning in a lethal dose of euphoria. 

After a few more pumps, he leaned down to press his chest against yours. Your shaking legs locked behind his back as he bottomed out, tugging your hips up as he shot a thick load deep inside you. You were breathless, light-headed, stuck in a state of ecstasy. Even with an empty head, you knew one thing for certain– triumph. The sounds he was making told you everything you needed to know. You were so good for Daddy. Your nails dragged across his back while you wrapped him up in your arms, desperate to feel as much of him as you could. 

Toji sat back up, pulling out of you as he crouched down at your core, spreading your puffy lips with his thumbs, beaming with pride as he watched his cum dribble out. You were his. “Did so good for me, princess.” He placed a gentle kiss on your clit as he realigned his face with yours, “Made me so proud.”

You offered only a small smile in response, reeling in enlightenment. You laid still while he cleaned you up, though you didn’t really have a choice. Your legs were numb and your back ached with a dull, constant reminder of who you truly belonged to. No one could fill the space that Toji held in your life. You weren’t going anywhere.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your tired bodies laid intertwined, the sound of synchronized breaths drifted through the room as the two of you relished in post-coital bliss. The love that pulsed from his chest into yours solidified your decision. There was nowhere else you wanted to be. 

“Daddy?” you hummed while he rubbed deep circles into your lower back.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I…I think I’m gonna take another gap year.” You could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that fell between the two of you as your words hung in the still air. Your heart thrummed as you waited for his response, anxiety running rampant in your body in hopes that he wouldn’t be angry with you. But you needed him. You knew where you belonged.

Your admission rang through Toji’s ears. His breath quickened every so slightly as his calloused hands dragged up and down your body, his lips pressing into the top of your head. It took every fiber of his being to keep his composure, to not jump from his skin at his victory. He did it. 

“If that’s what you want, princess. I support you.” His voice was steady, but his nonchalance was insincere. He was elated. He got to keep his little girl around, and he had no intention of letting go. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: the need i have for this man is insatiable... this was my first fic for toji so i had to do it up

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[aliwritex]

WITH THE RED DRESS ON mv1

summary: Max finally has a free time, all for his girlfriend after working for so long and he wants to make a night that they’d remember.

warnings/contents: max being a sweetheart, brief mention of reader being petite, garter and stockings, slight size kink and stomach bulge mention. oral (f) and pinv

an: inspired by Red Dress by MAGIC! ENJOY!! (this was so not the dress i was envisioning)

Max had been waiting in your room for what felt like ten thousand lifetimes.

He told you about two hours ago that he had made a reservation at your favorite restaurant. He watched you through the open closet door. Your makeup was done, your hair was ready and you even had a pair of shoes set aside but Max had already seen you try on five different dresses.

He looked at the time on his watch – 09:01 P.M. If you don’t make it to the restaurant before nine thirty his reservation will be discarded and you’ll probably be seated at a terrible table, not the one he picked at the outside area of the place.

At this point, all Max wanted to do was walk into the closet and make you fall apart on his tongue and his cock until you regret making him wait so long. He couldn’t take any more of you wearing only see through panties and those fucking pantyhose as you looked for the next dress.

As he walked over to you, Max debated on skipping dinner and just having you to himself but he remembered why he was doing this anyway. You mentioned how you’ve been working over time and wanted to make a night that you’d remember.

“It’s nine, darling” his hand snaked around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

“I know, Maxie, just haven’t found anything to wear”

He stared down at the arm wrapped around your waist – 9:05 P.M.

“Put on whatever, you’ll look good regardless” he kissed your neck and walked back out.

Max left the bedroom to refresh, he paced around the kitchen before pouring two glasses of water. He finished his water and even put the cup back before walking back to the room with yours. When he walked into the closet you had already taken off another dress.

“I didn’t even get to see that one on” he handed you the glass.

“It looked terrible, need to get rid of that one.”

“‘kay, you have fifteen more minutes. We need at least five to get there.”

He grabbed your empty glass and made his way back out. Max decided to stay outside to ease his anxiety away so he threw himself on the couch with a sigh before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly. As much as he tried keeping his mind on his phone it started to wander back to you. You in your pantyhose, you in his shirt last night, you in nothing this morning.

He was starting to lose it but with exactly ten minutes left on the clock he heard the bedroom door close. His head snapped back, chin settled on the couch’s backrest as he looked at you, smiley eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“‘M ready. Can you take my phone in your pocket?”

“Wow”

“Do you like it?”

He walked over to you, taking your hand in his and making you spin around for him. You chuckled at his actions, finally feeling pretty and comfortable in your outfit. He pushed you up against the closest wall and kissed you with need but you stopped him almost instantly, making him groan.

“Thought we were late” you teased “now you have lipgloss on your mustache”

He looked down at you as you wiped his mouth with your thumb. The small red dress fits you perfectly, hugging your chest and snatching your waist before flowing more freely around your hips. Maybe a little too freely, Max thought, as a quick wind could make it flow higher than you’d wish. But you felt good and it was perfect for a summer night.

On the way to the restaurant all he could think about was how he would take that dress off the second you got home.

As you sat down at your table you started telling him how much you appreciated that he used his time off for a simple night like this with you. He wasn’t really paying attention and if you were being honest, you could tell. His eyes were shifting from your lips to your chest to your hair to your eyes but never hearing a word you were saying.

“Max!” you called, pulling him away from his daydreaming “I want the same as always, do you need the menu?”

“Huh? No, sorry”

He ordered for you both, including a red wine and turned back to you, face red with embarrassment.

“Shiraz?”

“What? It’s what you always have with this dish, no?”

“It’s probably the most aphrodisiac wine ever”

“Well, I didn’t know that. But I guess we’ll have a fun night then”

You would’ve teased him about you finally knowing more about something but Max was distracting you too. His beard was more present than normal and you had done his hair yourself, just the way you liked it. But what you stared the longest at were the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, and how his chest filled it.

You eventually caught each other starring and chuckled, quickly falling into daily banter. He had you feeling like a teenager with every small flirty comment about you. When the plates came you were both about to lose your minds. You were feeling hot all over, your feet running up and down his calves under the table.

“Stop teasing me”

“Finish up, we can skip dessert tonight”

Max ate as fast as he possibly could, almost choking from not chewing enough.

Max probably drove over the speed limit all the way back to his apartment but you were inside in less than ten minutes.

“Baby, slow down” you chuckled as he completely attacked your neck and jaw.

He had pressed you against the wall right next to the front door, his hands fisting your wrists above your head as his hips pressed against yours.

“Can’t” he muttered, “you made me wait so long. Just wanted to bend you over in your closet and fuck you so good”

“Maxie” you whined at his proposal.

“I know, love, c’mon, lemme make you feel good.” his hands traveled down to your thighs, pulling them up so he could pick you up and walk you to your room.

You giggled on your way in, his soft hair tickling you as he kissed down the straps of your dress. He placed you on the bed, legs dangling off the edge and kneeled down in front of you. Max reached for your shoes and started unbuckling them slowly.

“Max! Just pull them off.” you told him in a groan.

“You told me to slow down” he kissed your knee.

You rolled your eyes and waited as he pulled them off and smiled when he finally started kissing up your calf. You lifted your torso onto your elbows to look at him as his lips brushed against your skin through your stockings making you shiver. He kissed all the way up to your naked thighs, placing his head between them as he went under your skirt.

You chuckled again and bunched up your skirt around your waist to find his face buried between your legs, kissing closer and closer to your middle. Your hands ran through his sandy hair, messing it up before you tugged on it to make him look up.

“C'mon, Max”

He dragged his lips past your underwear and started leaving kisses up your stomach, biting the skin that covered your hip bones.

“Take this off” he told you and got up from his knees.

Max watched you unzip and take off your dress as he unbuttoned his own shirt and took off his shoes. His eyes caught how your tits were almost spilling out of the thin lace bra and how you shivered as the cold air hit your skin, your hairs going up and your nipples getting hard. He walked back over to you, standing between your knees as he looked down at you.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” he ran his big palm up your stomach right to your tits, folding the bra under them. “And look at these, fuck!”

He took one of your tits in his hand and bent over you to mouth at the other. He took everything he could into his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around your nipple. You arched your chest into him, running your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head.

“Maxie,” you whined, bucking your hips up to feel him growing against you, “please, need you so bad”

He listened to your pleas and popped your breast out of his mouth, starting to kiss down your sides and leaving a mark right on your ribs. His fingers hooked on the straps that connected the stockings to the garter around your waist and unsnapped them, freeing him to tug your underwear down your legs.

“You know what? I like the straps”

“Thought so” you teased as he snapped them back together and pulled away from you to see them.

Max got down on his knees again, this time throwing your legs over his shoulders to bring your cunt as close as possible to his face. The kisses he left to your thighs were loud and wet, making you squirm in anticipation. When he finally got to your cunt all he did was gently lick at your clit, slowly and barely applying any pressure. He felt you shiver under him as his tongue slowly worked harder against your core, applying more pressure with every small lick.

You pulled his head closer to your cunt, forcing him to dive in properly and push his tongue to your hole. You moaned when he circled it around the opening and took it right back to your clit. Max did love to drive you insane but he was done teasing so he finally took your clit between his lips and sucked on it. You pushed your hips to his face and he smiled, happy with the state he had gotten you to. He took his fingers up to your cunt and spread your wetness around before pushing them in, you clenched around them, feeling them pump in and out of you.

“Max, baby” you whined

“What is it, love?” he asked between kisses to the sides of your thighs “Tell me what you need”

“Just- don’t stop please, feels so good”

Your boyfriend took the encouragement and dived back into you, his lips and tongue working your clit relentlessly as his fingers started curling up inside you. It had been way too long since he last took care of you like this, you were way too sensitive as you felt it build up, a warm and agonizing feeling down your belly. It was too soon and it felt too strong but you couldn’t hold yourself back, the alcohol making you lose all control of your own body. You felt your orgasm take over you like a strong wave, your mind going completely blank as Max groaned onto your core, his fingers still working you all the way through it.

Moans left your mouth freely as you clenched and spasmed around him, your hips rocking back and forth onto his face and hand till they came to a stop. You finally looked down at Max, lifting yourself on your elbows to catch his face completely soaked in your squirt as he looked at you with a smile on his face.

“I missed this” he kissed anything he could reach, stomach, thighs, cunt, “you made a bit of a mess, though, think we’re gonna have to sleep in the guest room.” he chuckled.

“C’mere,” you reached for his arms and guided him to hold himself above you, “please, fuck me.”

“Anything you want, love”

He stood up and undid his belt and pants as you climbed up on the bed so your legs weren’t dangling anymore. Besides everything, the look Max had on his face translated into – mostly – tenderness, he was so in love with you, you were the only thing on his mind and all he wanted was to be close to you. He climbed on the bed, fully bare and positioned himself between your knees, his hard cock brushing against your wet folds made you moan.

“So sensitive, huh?”

You just nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to try to contain any other sound that threatened to spill from your throat. He rested his cock on your stomach for a second, loving to see the comparison of size, before lowering himself to kiss the skin behind your ear. It was one of your biggest soft spots and Max knew it well, making you let out a suppressed moan past your lips. He then went down to mouth at your clavicles as he drove himself into you. Then you couldn’t even try to suppress the moan, it came from deep in your chest, loud, desperate, even. Your eyes screw shut and your nails dug into the skin of his arms and back.

“Look at me,” he asked, “so beautiful, schat. I love you so much, fuck. Gripping me so good”

You just threw your head back, completely lost in pleasure as he slowly dragged in and out of you. His hips moved as slow as he possibly could, watching the way your face curled in pleasure and desperation. It wasn’t like he could go faster, really, you were still adjusting to his girth and he could barely pull out from how tightly you clenched around him.

But when you finally molded around him, allowing space for him to move, he started going at it, thrusting so deep you could see your uterus move on your lower stomach. Despite the ‘roughness’ of his thrusts, Max kissed you soft and gently, a hand caressing your hair as the other lifted your leg up to give you a better angle of his cock, it was all about balance.

“Baby,” you called “let me ride you”

You heard a slow sigh of ‘fuck’ leave his lips before he pulled out to sit against the headboard. You threw your leg over his to straddle him and lifted yourself up only to sink onto his cock again. You both groaned as he filled you up and you reached for his face, his beard scratching your palms as you pulled him closer for a kiss.

“Missed you, missed your cock”

“I missed you too, darling, everyday”

You kissed him again as you started to move back and forth, slowly dragging your clit on his lower stomach. Max’s hands were on your hips guiding your movements as he took a tit into his mouth, licking and sucking at it, at that point your chest was covered in his spit. You felt so much closer to him like that, feeling his chest press to your stomach as you hugged his face to your breasts.

Max started guiding you faster, his own hips moving slightly to match yours. His lips left your boob to kiss at your neck and one of his hands moved down between your bodies, circling your clit with the pad of his fingers. And there it was again, your stomach tightening as you clenched around him.

“Close, schat?” he whispered

You could only whine and hum a positive sound as he rocked you harder on him. You grabbed his face with both hands, bringing him into another kiss. Your tongues were sliding against each other’s as you came around him. Max shot his cum inside you immediately, bringing your hips to a smaller movement so you could ride out both of your orgasms.

“If you don’t stop i’m gonna need another one” you told him after resting your head on his shoulder, his hands finally stopped moving your hips.

“Sorry, darling.”

He left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the spot below your ear, small pecks that made you shiver. Max rested back against the pillows with you on top of him, taking a somewhat comfortable sleeping position without disconnecting you.

“I love you so much, darling”

[capuccinodoll]

— A haunted body, part two: "In a lifeless memory, there you belong" ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆‧₊˚ (jackson!joel x f!reader)

fic masterlist | ao3 | capuccinodollupdates | previous chapter | next chapter

— Chapter summary: After two weeks of seeing Joel almost every single day, you start crafting quiet little strategies, soft edges to try and smooth the sharpness between you. But he seems resistant, like the idea of letting you close the gap is something he’s not ready to consider. wc: 11k

A/N: I love u joel i don't care if you're an asshole. Don't forget to let me know your opinion in the comments, it helps me a lot! <3 (TAG LIST OPEN)

Jackson. Early, early morning.

When you were little, there was a girl in your class who made a habit of bothering you. Nothing major, just enough to make your stomach twist when you saw her in the hallway. One morning, sitting beside your father in the car while the engine idled outside the school, you told him about her. He listened quietly, nodding once or twice. Then he said, “You should ignore her. And if you have to treat her, treat her nicely. Don’t rise to it. That’s what she wants. Do you understand?”

You nodded. And you did exactly as he said.

At first, it confused her. She tried harder for a day or two, needled you with more effort, as if trying to provoke a reaction she could count on. But when you gave her nothing back—no anger, no tears—she seemed to lose interest. By the end of the week, she asked if you wanted to play with her during recess. You did. You never forgot that, how choosing not to retaliate could feel like a kind of quiet power. Your father was good at that kind of thing. Advice that didn’t expire.

So this morning, after a restless night, you got out of bed earlier than usual and made up your mind. You’d be kind. Or at the very least, unshakable.

It had been two weeks since you started working alongside Joel. Fourteen days of exchanging only the necessary words, of him speaking to you like a coworker he neither trusted nor disliked, just tolerated. And maybe he didn't even do that. Every morning you walked into the office, nodded at him, and took your place at the other desk. You filed through the day’s assignments—who was scheduled to patrol, who needed supplies, who was still waiting on repairs for faulty plumbing or a leaking roof.

Sometimes you'd go out with Joel to inspect the repairs. You carried your notebook and wrote down what the workers needed, the things Joel muttered under his breath as he ran his hand along cracked drywall or faulty beams. You didn’t ask questions, only noted what mattered. That time, Tommy had looked over your notes and the two of them agreed that the Fisher house needed priority—there was a child involved, five years old, and their walls were practically coming apart. 

That was the rhythm of your mornings now: paperwork, coordination, quiet observation. Joel barely acknowledged you, but you didn’t take it personally anymore. You’d gotten good at the job. Better than expected. You were fast, you remembered names, and people liked you—at least, enough to stop you in the hallway to say hi, or ask if you’d seen their gloves, or if Joel was really as grumpy as he seemed.

You’d found yourself thinking about your father a lot last week—his voice in the car, the warmth of his hand on the steering wheel, the way he always made things sound easier than they actually were. Maybe that’s why, this morning, you got up earlier than usual. 

The sun hadn’t fully settled over Jackson yet. Everything outside looked pale and rinsed out. The air had that crisp, early-hour bite, sharp enough to flush your cheeks pink by the time you walked into the office. You loved the smell of it.

You shrugged off your coat and hung it on the rack, your fingers numb and tingling as they left the fabric. Your eyes still felt puffy from sleep.

Joel’s desk was already cluttered, as if it, too, had started the day before he had. A notepad sat open, pages crumpled at the corners. There were pens scattered like breadcrumbs across the surface, a few maps rolled into loose cylinders, and a mug—white, ceramic, stained faintly at the rim. Empty, as usual.

Without thinking too much, you picked up the mug and stepped out into the hallway. A few steps down was the shared kitchen. It was barely big enough to fit two people comfortably, but it had what mattered: a chipped oven no one used, a stainless steel sink, and, most importantly, a coffee maker that always smelled faintly burnt. 

No one really used the kitchen all that much. Just you and Joel. Lately, it felt like you were the only one keeping it company.

You turned on the tap and let the water run warm before washing the mug carefully, the way you'd do your own. It wasn’t much, but you had noticed a pattern. Joel came in every day, usually right on the edge of eight o’clock, washed the same mug with a weary kind of efficiency, made tea or coffee —that is, if he was lucky enough to have a little bit of it— drank it down, repeat a few times, and left the mug behind for tomorrow. Like it didn’t matter. 

You thought maybe this one gesture might shift something, even if just for you. So you filled the machine, let it gurgle and spit to life, and stood there in the quiet hum of the kitchen as the smell of it spread into the corners. 

A group had come through a few days ago, bringing coffee with them—real one, the kind that made the whole place smell delicious. You had no idea what kind of deal Joel had made, what he'd traded or promised or given up, but somehow, he ended up with a decent stash.

That morning, when you walked in and the scent hit you, it stopped you in your tracks. It reminded you of mornings back home, before everything changed. Of your dad, already dressed for work, sipping from a chipped mug. Of your mom singing in the kitchen. Of cereal boxes and rushed ponytails and school shoes you never liked.

You thought about asking Joel for a cup. Or a sip. Just a little. But it felt like too much somehow.

Later, without a word, Tommy handed you a jar. Just placed it in your hands like it had always been meant for you. You didn’t ask how he got it. You just held it, and let yourself smile, a little.

Back at your desk, you poured yourself a cup and sat with your legs tucked under you, the book Audrey had lent you open across your lap. She worked in the kitchen most days and was always recommending stories with women who didn’t apologize for being soft or tired or stubborn. You liked her.

You sipped the coffee. It tasted a little bitter but warm, grounding. Outside, the morning light stretched further down the town. You watched it move while the room stayed still.

When you glanced at the clock again, it read 7:46 a.m.

Fourteen minutes. You didn’t hear his boots yet, but you would soon. He was nothing if not consistent. And today, for once, you were ready before him.

You stood up from your chair. The office was still quiet. You walked into the kitchen, holding your empty mug, and turned on the faucet. The warm water ran over your hands, comforting in a way that made you pause

A couple of minutes passed like that, the silence in the building stretching between walls and doors. And then you heard it— the sound of the front door opening. Heavy footsteps, measured, familiar. Joel didn’t stop. He walked past the kitchen without looking in, the thud of his boots leading straight into the office. A beat later, the scrape of his chair echoed faintly, followed by a tired, worn-out exhale that sounded like he was already annoyed at the day.

You didn’t rush. You just took his mug from the counter and poured coffee into it, plain and black, the way he drank it every morning. You didn’t need to ask. You already knew.

When you stepped back into the office, he hadn’t noticed you right away. Then, he startled— just slightly— and turned to look. His eyes widened for a second, his body tensing before recognition caught up to him. His brows furrowed, and he exhaled again, sharper this time. You scared him. The way you’d managed to catch him off guard made something flicker inside you, something amused and smug that you tried not to show.

You set the mug down on his desk without ceremony.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice already edged with suspicion. You were walking back to your own desk, your back to him.

“Coffee,” you replied, as you lowered yourself into the chair.

“I know it’s coffee. I can smell it.” 

“So?” you shrugged lightly.

He picked up his notepad with exaggerated purpose, flipped to a page he probably didn’t need to read. His eyes never met yours.

“You’re early,” he said finally.

“I know.”

A heavy sigh. The notepad dropped back onto the desk with a dull slap.

“I take my coffee without sugar,” he said, looking up now, his expression bordering on accusatory. He was waiting for a misstep, a reason to dismiss the gesture.

“I know.” You met his gaze without flinching, the corner of your mouth twitching before you could stop it.

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a few beats too long. Then he cleared his throat, and without breaking eye contact, reached for the mug. He brought it to his lips and took a sip.

You didn’t look away. You wanted to see the exact moment he realized he had nothing to complain about.

Then, without a word, he placed the mug back on the desk, his fingers brushing the ceramic for a moment too long. His eyes dropped to whatever was in front of him, but his voice broke the quiet.

“Sean asked to switch partners,” he said. His gaze shifted toward the whiteboard behind his desk, eyes landing on something you couldn’t see. “Says Leo gets too distracted. Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

You didn’t reply. You just let your mouth curve slightly at the corners, quiet and unseen.

For the next hour, he didn’t speak much. He moved through the room without saying where he was going or why. He leafed through folders, erased a few words from the board, wrote down new ones. Every few minutes, he’d sigh—a soft exhale that seemed to come more from habit than frustration. You didn’t ask questions. You just worked beside him, familiar now with the rhythms of your shared silence.

It wasn’t until he came back up from downstairs that you stood. You reached for your coat on the rack near the door and pulled it on, smoothing the sleeves as you turned back around.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” you told him, like you didn’t expect a response.

You didn’t get one. So you stepped into the hallway, hands tucked into your coat pockets, offering a wave to the two men heading toward the stairs. They nodded back, mid-conversation.

Outside, the sun hit your skin nice and tender. It softened your cheeks. Jackson was awake now. You could feel it—the quiet hum of people living, talking, moving. The scent of something warm and cooked drifted in the air as you neared the dining hall, and your stomach responded before you could think.

“Hey, Snow,” someone called behind you, just as you reached the bar inside the place. You turned. It was Lucas, walking toward you with a worn clipboard in one hand and a beanie barely covering his ears.

“How are you?” he asked, falling into step beside you. “Can I run something by you?”

You nodded, still heading toward the bar. “Of course.”

Lucas followed without hesitation, already launching into a description of a structural issue near the east exit—something about the door, rot setting into the wood where the wall met the ground. You listened, pulling details into a mental list you knew you’d jot down later. The kind of thing Tommy and Maria would want to hear about before someone else noticed. 

Ten minutes later, you set a brown paper bag down on Joel’s desk. The sound of it landing was soft, but he looked up immediately. His brows knitted, not in anger exactly, but in that vague, unsettled way he had when something didn’t follow the routine he trusted.

“Lucas says the east exit’s getting worse,” you said, not giving him time to ask. “Rotten wood near the base of the door. Snow and last week’s rain didn’t help.”

You turned away before he could answer, dropped your own bag onto your desk, the motion casual, maybe even careless. Then you took off your coat, shook it out a little, and hung it on the hook beside the door—just to his left. When you passed him again, you felt his eyes on you. Measuring something, maybe.

“What is this?” he asked, eyes back on the bag like it might explode.

You didn’t stop moving. Just walked to your chair, pulled it in, opened your own bag with a practiced flick of your fingers.

“Food,” you said. “Breakfast.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. You heard the paper crinkle as he peeked inside.

“Why’d you bring me food?”

You flipped open your book, the spine soft from overuse.

“Thought you might be hungry,” you said, keeping your voice light. “Figured I’d take a chance.”

“You don’t know what I—”

“It’s a breakfast sandwich,” you interrupted, without looking up. “Egg. Cheese. Chicken.”

You tilted your head slightly, pretending to read, though your eyes hadn’t moved past the first sentence. You could feel the pause in the air between you.

When you finally glanced up, Joel was still staring at you. Or maybe through you. His face was unreadable, but his mouth was set like he was preparing for something.

“Sure,” he muttered eventually, and stood, lifting his empty mug as he did. “Thanks.”

You watched him cross the room without another word, stepping through the doorway with his shoulders pulled slightly back.

“Anytime,” you said into the space he’d left behind. 

You could see it happening, the confusion settling into his body. The shift in his posture, the faint narrowing of his eyes, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle that had started rearranging itself without his permission. Joel had come in expecting resistance. He was ready for it, even. Braced for your irritation like someone ducking before a storm that never quite arrived. And yet, there you were, soft-spoken, steady, placing things in front of him like he hadn’t raised his voice last week or shut a door a little too hard just yesterday.

You hadn’t forgotten. He had saved your life — yes, that much was true. But that didn’t grant him a free pass to act like a man untouched by consequence. Still, you were careful with him in a way he hadn’t earned but also hadn’t asked for. Not lately, anyway. He wasn’t cruel, not anymore. Just curt. And you had met curt before. You had shared days and nights with curt, loved curt, worked beside curt. You’d healed in the aftermath of people much harsher, more dismissive. Joel didn’t scare you.

Over the following days, it became a quiet pattern.

When he walked in —always early, always scowling— you slid a mug of hot coffee or tea across the table toward him. No commentary. Just a quiet “Good morning,” spoken without inflection. Each time, his brow creased like he was trying to read you through smoke. He didn’t say thank you. Didn’t complain either. You could tell he noticed the drink was good. He drank it all, every time.

You didn’t coddle him. You weren’t interested in becoming one of those people who believed gruffness equaled depth. Most days it was just coffee. Once, on a Thursday, you added a plate with a slice of apple pie you’d got from the dining hall, because you’d had too much and he looked like someone who needed sugar and softness. But that was it. You weren’t going to make a habit out of kindness for the sake of earning anything back.

On Friday, you climbed the stairs without thinking much about it, already mentally checking off tasks for the morning. You passed the kitchen on your way to the office, but something pulled you back. Two steps. That was all.

Joel was there, pouring coffee into his mug, his shoulders hunched like they always were this early, like he hadn’t quite put on his armor yet. He didn’t turn to look at you.

“Morning,” he murmured. His voice came out rougher than usual, sleep clinging to it like sand.

You smiled, just slightly. A breath of a laugh left your nose.

You didn’t say anything. Just walked past him, footsteps quiet against the floor, your body moving with calm. When you reached the office, you glanced up at the clock on the wall. 7:12 a.m. You shrugged out of your coat and hung it on the back of your chair.

You sat, unzipping your backpack and reaching for a book — not the one you’d been reading all week, but a new one. Something about plant behavior and cellular memory, lent to you yesterday by Ian, the guy from the greenhouse who always smelled faintly of rosemary and talked too much about soil. You didn’t open it. Just laid it on the desk beside you.

Joel appeared in the doorway a moment later, his mug in hand. His expression was unreadable.

He set the mug down with a muted thud and lowered himself into his chair.

“Not responding to a good morning is kind of rude,” he said, his tone flat but pointed.

You laughed. Not loudly, just one of those involuntary little sounds that catches in the back of your throat and comes out anyway. Because of course he would say that. It was absurd. Coming from him, it almost felt like satire.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Just stood, smoothing your palms over the edge of the desk before heading out of the room and down the hall. The kitchen was quiet, the light soft and yellow over the counter as you made a single cup of coffee, taking your time measuring everything, pouring water. When you came back, he was exactly where you'd left him.

The minutes that followed felt thick. You sipped your coffee slowly. Occasionally, you let your eyes wander to where he sat, glasses perched low on his nose, flipping through a tattered magazine that looked like it had been rescued from a waiting room. You could tell he wasn’t really reading. His fingers moved too fast, the pages turned too frequently. He was just there. Killing time. Sitting in your space, doing nothing, possibly for the sole purpose of making his own damn coffee without you touching his mug.

Then, without warning, his voice cut through the quiet.

“I can feel you watching.” He didn’t look up. Just said it like it had been on his tongue for a while. “Another thing that’s rude.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even smile.

“I wasn’t watching you,” you said. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You kept your voice neutral, your posture relaxed. You turned a page in the book you still hadn’t started reading.

“You’re early today,” you added, not looking up.

“That’s right.”

You waited, but nothing else came.

“You do the same thing all the time,” you said after a few moments. “Don’t you think that’s rude?”

Joel looked up. His eyes narrowed just slightly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. 

You leaned back in your chair, shifting your weight.

“You ignore my greetings. You stare at me without saying anything. You do it constantly. Doesn’t that seem rude when you do it?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on you, unreadable as always, and then he set the magazine down with a quiet rustle. Removed his glasses and folded them carefully.

“Is that why you didn’t answer me earlier?” he asked finally. “You trying to make a point?”

You tilted your head slightly, the corners of your mouth not quite smiling.

“Mmm, no, Joel,” you said, resting your forearms on the desk in front of you. “I’m not trying to prove anything to you.”

A quiet sigh slipped out of his nose, and he went back to the magazine, flipping through the pages without really seeing them.

You let him be, and the silence stretched, not hostile, just familiar, for now.

Eventually, when footsteps began echoing in the hallway and voices started filling the air outside the room, Joel glanced at the clock. He stood up with energy.

“I should go,” he said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “Time for patrol.”

You looked at him, confused. “What?”

“I’m covering for Leo,” he said, flatly. No explanation, no elaboration.

You watched him step out into the hallway, his boots heavy against the floor. And even after he was gone, the question stayed with you: Why the hell had he come so early just to sit around doing nothing? Just to stop you from making coffee?

By the time the clock hit eleven, Tommy appeared. He skimmed through the notes you’d written down, nodding here and there, murmuring things under his breath as he read. Then you both walked outside together, your steps falling into rhythm naturally.

He told you about something Benji had done the day before and you laughed, despite yourself. Then he talked about Maria. His tone shifted when he mentioned her, softened like a sunbeam catching on glass. He smiled in a way that made your chest ache just a little.

There was something about watching them that settled somewhere deep inside you. A kind of warmth that didn’t feel naïve. Just rare. Sweet.

In the middle of a world that had broken and bent so many people, they’d found each other. And more than that, they’d built something. Were building something — brick by brick, hour by hour. Maria especially. She was steel wrapped in skin. A woman who had brought life into this hollowed-out world and refused to let it crush her. You admired her deeply, in the quiet way women admire other women, with something closer to reverence than envy.

Here, in the remains of the world, they were still choosing hope. Choosing to make space for the new. And that, to you, felt pretty fucking extraordinary.

The world, as you knew it, had never been gentle. It had teeth. And it had taken everything from you with them.

That kind of loss didn’t happen all at once, though. It unraveled in fragments, in quiet disappearances and sudden, brutal moments. Sometimes the violence was so abrupt it felt almost clean. Other times it dragged out, long and clumsy and cruel. You’d lived through both kinds.

Your parents were the first to go. Not to infection, not to panic or blood or fire. A traffic accident. You were still a child, almost a year before the outbreak. The world was intact, more or less. You remembered the sound of the phone ringing, someone else’s voice delivering the news, the way everything after that moment felt thin and bright and unreal.

It was the most painful thing you’d experienced then. And yet, somewhere deep in your chest, you’d come to feel a kind of twisted gratitude that they didn’t have to see what came next. They didn’t have to live through the collapse. Or through what it made of people.

You did.

The years after their deaths blurred into the first scattered pieces of survival. You were shuffled between shelters and checkpoints and concrete rooms that stank of bleach. Men in uniforms who looked through you. Rations passed over counters by hands that didn’t shake yours.

You were alone for a long time. Not metaphorically, literally.

Then, at fourteen, you met Frances. And for the first time in what felt like years, someone looked at you like you were still human. Like you mattered. You stayed close to her after that, clung to her like you would’ve clung to a lifeboat in the middle of a black sea.

At sixteen, the two of you ran. No plan. No destination. Just the shared understanding that whatever waited for you outside the walls was less terrifying than what was happening inside them.

The next few years were a mixture of hunger and fleeting safety. But you found people—your people. Gabriel. Pia. Robert. Each of them complicated and bruised and resourceful. Pia and Robert were married, both in their fifties, and had the kind of tenderness between them that you hadn’t realized was still possible. Robert had been a cop once. He still moved like one. Gabriel was barely older than you, lean and quiet, with kind eyes that tracked every sound.

And Frances—Frances was still your anchor.

You were a makeshift family, built from necessity and luck and a strange, tender kind of loyalty. You shared food, watched each other’s backs, stayed warm by the same fires. You were never supposed to be apart.

Then Frances got pregnant. With Gabriel’s child.

And the dynamics, so carefully held in place, began to shift.

At first it was manageable. But as her belly grew, so did the risk. She tired faster, moved differently, couldn’t outrun the kinds of danger that used to just brush against your group. Still, no one abandoned her. You would never. Neither would Gabriel. Pia and Robert were endlessly gentle with her, wrapping their practicality in affection.

Eventually, you found the house. Abandoned, weather-worn, but intact. It made you believe, if only for a second, that things could maybe, possibly, hold.

You stayed. A few days. That was all. A pause in the rushing current.

The stronger ones went out for supplies. You stayed behind with Frances, who was almost full term, whose hands curled instinctively toward her stomach whenever she slept.

That last night, you laughed. Really laughed. Frances had a way of pulling that out of you. Around her, you could still be soft. Still be young. She made you feel like the version of yourself you’d been before the world twisted everything out of shape.

She loved fiercely. Not just Gabriel. Not just the baby. She loved you too, in a way that was simple and unselfish. And she was the first person who’d ever made you believe that you deserved to be loved back.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the way it ended.

The raiders came after midnight. You didn’t hear them at first, but later, you'd wonder if you'd sensed something before it began—some tiny ripple in the air, some unplaceable unease. They had been watching, you’d find out later. Waiting until you had just enough worth stealing.

You remembered the screams. Frances’s, sharp and ragged, as labor overtook her in the middle of the chaos. Gabriel, bleeding out just feet away. Robert shot. Pia's body crumpled against the hallway wall. You remembered how silence descended in pieces, punctuated by the wet sounds of dying.

And you. Still breathing.

Death passed over you like smoke. You should have died. Maybe you did, in some invisible way. But your body stayed.

So did Frances, for a little while longer. Just long enough to give birth to a baby you held in your arms, shaking, sobbing, rocking back and forth on the floor while the house burned around you, metaphorically or otherwise. You don't remember screaming. But you must have. You must have.

And then—

The door slammed behind you. A sharp sound. Present. Real. It pulled you out of the memory with a jolt, like someone tugging a cord that had been wrapped tight around your ribs.

You blinked. The room reassembled around you. And you were no longer that twenty-year-old girl soaked in death and blood and grief. You were here.

Still breathing.

“So how’s it going with Joel?” Tommy asked as the two of you walked across the dining hall, the soles of your boots brushing against the wooden floor. He gestured toward a table by one of the windows, where the morning light fell unevenly, casting long, uneven shapes across the surface.

You lifted your shoulders in a vague shrug, a noncommittal answer you hoped might pass for honesty.

“It’s... normal,” you said, not sure what that even meant.

Tommy’s mouth tugged into a grin as he dropped into his seat.

“Ah, I see. But you’ve adjusted really well. It shows.”

You pulled the chair across from him and sat down, tucking one leg underneath you as your eyes flicked to the window.

“You think so?”

“Sure. Listen,” he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like this was something meant only for you. “I think you’re doing a great job. Really. But if you’d feel more comfortable in a different job, or with someone else, just say the word. I know Joel can be... hard to read. Or just plain hard.”

You smiled at that, almost without meaning to, and let your gaze drift back outside. Ellie was walking across the street, her stride loose and confident, her mouth moving fast as she talked to a tall boy who gestured wildly with his hands.

“Joel and Ellie are pretty close, aren’t they?” you asked, watching them for a beat longer before turning your eyes back to Tommy.

He nodded. “That’s right. You’ve met her?”

“Mm-hm,” you said softly. “She’s cute.”

“She must like you, then,” Tommy laughed.

You laughed, too—not because you meant to, but because it was contagious. “Why?”

“They’re similar. Joel and Ellie. Doesn’t always look like it, but they are. They don’t warm up to just anyone.”

“Ah.” You looked back toward the window, where Ellie was now halfway across the street. Something about her made you ache in a way you couldn’t name. 

You were about to ask Tommy something else when a voice came from beside you.

“Can we talk?”

You turned, startled. Joel stood a few feet from the table, one hand resting on the back of your chair, his other gripping a battered metal thermos. His shirt was a flannel one you hadn’t seen before, dark grey streaked with muted blue. His hair was a little windblown, like he’d just come in from the gate.

You blinked at him.

“Um, sure,” you said, voice softer than you meant. You didn’t move. Just looked up at him from your seat.

Joel frowned. “I was talkin’ to Tommy.”

“Oh,” you said quickly, your face heating as you stood. “Right. Sorry.” You stepped back, barely meeting his eyes.

“See you later, Snow,” Tommy said lightly behind you.

You gave him a wave without turning fully around. But you didn’t miss the way Joel’s eyes followed you, the faintest crease forming between his brows. There was something in his expression that always landed just short of anger, but never softened into anything else.

As you passed by, you caught his gaze and held it for a beat longer than necessary. And maybe it was petty, or stupid, but you let your eyes flick down the length of him the way he sometimes—often—looked at you. Then you raised your brows just slightly, something almost defiant in the tilt of your chin.

If he could glare, so could you.

You were nearly at the door when someone called your name. Your real name.

The sound of it made you stop. You turned your head and saw Isabella approaching, her gait easy, familiar. Beside her was another woman—Florence. You’d met her only three weeks ago, in passing, but she’d been here longer than you. Just a couple of months. She was twenty-seven, and there was something about her—maybe the cadence of her voice, or how she always seemed to lean in when she spoke—that reminded you of Frances in a way that was soft and slightly painful.

They both had bright smiles stretched across their faces.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Isabella said, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush your arm. “Haven’t seen you in forever. How are you holding up?”

“Sorry about that,” you said, already feeling the guilt seep in. “I’m fine. How about you? And Hugh?” You glanced around out of habit, searching for Mr. Rowell, as everyone still called him, even though he insisted on just ‘Hugh’. But he wasn’t nearby.

“We’re good,” Florence answered for them, her voice soft and bright. “Saving our stomachs for later tonight.”

“For what?” you asked.

Isabella grinned, her hands moving to Florence’s shoulders with a light shake of affection. “It’s this one’s birthday today.”

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, and then closed again as a ripple of guilt moved through you.

“Oh. Right. Friday.” You reached out and rested your hand gently on Florence’s shoulder, not quite sure how to express affection anymore, but doing your best. “Happy birthday. What are you planning?”

“Getting drunk,” Florence said with a sparkle in her eye as she slid her arm through yours. Her laugh followed. “Tonight. Tipsy Bison. You have to come.”

You smiled, genuinely. “I’ve never been to an adult birthday celebration. Not a real one, anyway. I won’t miss it.”

Isabella’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “Seriously.”

“Oh, baby,” she said, grinning wide. “Then tonight’s your night. In a world like this, celebrations are sacred. Parties are the last flickering lanterns, and we keep them lit even if all we’ve got is some post-apocalyptic mystery alcohol and a half-broken speaker system.”

That made you laugh, really laugh. The sound escaped you before you could temper it, high and unexpected, bouncing off the walls like a misplaced echo.

You turned your head at the sudden awareness that someone was watching. Joel. A few feet away, still talking with Tommy. His posture stiffer than usual, arms crossed. The expression on his face looked like the aftermath of biting into something sour.

Your eyes met. He didn’t look away.

You let out a quiet snort under your breath, not hiding the smirk as you looked back at Florence. 

"I wouldn't miss it," you said, smiling.

Jackson. Tipsy Bison. That same night.

You threw your head back, your laughter bright and brief. Florence’s hand rested on your shoulder, fingers splayed casually, and she was laughing too, mid-story, telling everyone about something absurd her parents had once done a few years ago before they got to Jackson—something involving a river and a miscommunication about something you didn't catch entirely. 

The bar was full. Crackling with low music, the low thud of boots against the floor. Amber lights flickered above you, casting a warm hue on everyone’s skin, faces golden and half-shadowed. Around you: the Rowells, Florence, Audrey. Jesse, the boy you’d noticed earlier standing beside Ellie, was there too, smiling shyly into his drink like he didn’t know quite how to take up space in this group yet. 

You brought your glass to your lips. The taste hit sharp and fast, a bloom of heat down your throat. Your eyes closed without thinking.

Now Isabella was recounting something about how she’d met Hugh, how he’d followed her around a library for three weeks before saying a word to her, and everyone was laughing, even you. That was when you felt it—a shift in air to your left, a pocket of coolness brushing the side of your face. The front door had opened.

You turned your head instinctively.

Joel walked in, Sean just behind him. They were in mid-conversation, Sean gesturing with a kind of youthful exaggeration that didn’t match the lines on his face. He looked around forty-eight, maybe older, tall and broad-shouldered, his hair streaked with silver. A thin scar cut across his face, from eyebrow to jaw.

Your gaze fixed. Not on Sean.

Joel walked toward the bar, his face unreadable, like always. But something about his posture, his shoulders slightly tense, the way his hand hovered at his side like he hadn’t quite decided what to do with it, made something sharp flicker in your chest.

You barely registered Isabella calling out: “Oh, Joel!” Her voice was light, bright, insistent. She waved him over.

Your gaze dropped, instantly, to your lap. As if not seeing him would mean he wouldn’t come over.

But you felt it when he arrived. The shift in gravity. The awareness. You didn’t look at him, but your body registered him anyway, the shape of him in your peripheral vision.

He said nothing. You assumed he had nodded or waved in response to Isabella, some small social gesture that bypassed you entirely, of course.

“Sit down and have a drink with us,” Isabella offered. She was still smiling. “We’re celebrating Florence’s birthday tonight.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

You looked up. It felt like something you weren’t supposed to do, and yet, your eyes met his, only for the briefest flicker. Like he hadn’t meant to. Like it slipped.

He turned his attention to Florence then, and there was the faintest movement at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile, but not quite.

“Happy birthday,” he said. “They’re waiting for me at the bar. Y’all have a good night.” He tipped his head, a quiet farewell.

You lifted your eyes again just as he was walking away. He looked back at the same time. Your eyes held his until the distance dissolved it.

A sound escaped your mouth. Not quite a sigh, not quite a groan. You fell back against the chair, legs crossed, shoulders loose now with something that wasn’t quite relief.

When you glanced around, Isabella and Florence were looking at you. The rest of the group was busy talking about something else.

“What?” you asked.

Florence raised her eyebrows. “What was that?”

“What?”

Isabella leaned in. “Did something happen between you two, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Then a small laugh broke loose from somewhere in your chest. You shook your head.

“No,” you said eventually. “He just doesn’t like me, I guess.”

Isabella frowned. “Why would you say that?”

Florence tilted her head, watching you carefully.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. He just doesn’t.”

Your drink was half-full. You took another sip, slower this time, and looked toward the bar. Joel stood beside Sean, his back to you. He was saying something, nodding slightly.

“But you’re so nice,” Florence said, giving your arm a playful nudge.

You smiled, but didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure how long it had been. Maybe an hour. Maybe longer. Time had stopped behaving like it usually did. It wasn’t linear anymore. It folded around the laughter and the flickering lights and the easy way the alcohol moved through your body.

This was new to you. Not the drinking, but the feeling of doing it without fear. It was strange. Almost peaceful. You hadn’t had many chances to get drunk in a way that felt light instead of dangerous. The world had already cracked open and crumbled by the time you were old enough to even consider rebellion. Most of your memories of drinking involved half-empty bottles found in places you weren’t supposed to be, always glancing over your shoulder, always sharing nervous grins with Frances in the dimness of an abandoned building.

That night with Frances had been jittery and loud, a night where you laughed because you were scared, and scared because you were laughing. This night was different. Here, you didn’t have to whisper. You didn’t have to listen for footsteps or wonder if someone had followed you in. The people around you were kind, familiar. Nobody had a gun in their lap.

Jesse was telling a story. Something about what he’d seen on patrol the week before. Two infected, a broken fence, the moon looking wrong in the sky. His voice was pleasant, but your attention wandered. You let yourself drift.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said into the space between voices. Someone murmured something behind you. Maybe Florence, maybe not. You didn’t check.

You stood, stretching your arms behind your back with a quiet exhale, and made your way toward the bar. The room swayed a little in your vision, but you felt steady enough.

Eric was there, talking to someone as he leaned against the counter. He repaired furniture, you remembered. Nice guy. You’d spoken to him once or twice, always in passing. He greeted you with a nod and a half-smile.

“Hot night,” he muttered, lifting his glass.

You returned the smile out of politeness, not intention.

“Yeah,” you said vaguely, he was already turning away. “See ya.”

Your eyes followed the space he’d left, the void he’d carved by leaving.

And there he was. Joel. One seat over.

His posture was relaxed in a way that didn’t look natural, like he had to think about how to appear at ease. One forearm rested on the bar, fingers curled around a half-empty glass. His eyes were fixed somewhere else.

You held your smile for a few more seconds, just long enough to finish the gesture, and placed your order with the man behind the bar, your tongue lazy in your mouth. You could hear it. That little shift in articulation that meant you’d definitely had more than enough.

You smiled to yourself, lips barely parted.

And then Joel spoke.

“You should ease up on that.”

You turned your head, just enough to check if he was actually talking to you.

He was.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, curious.

His gaze shifted forward again.

“The drinking,” he said. “You might want to take it easy.”

A short laugh escaped from you. “I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

There was no judgment in his voice. Just a plain, unwavering observation, like he was reading from a manual.

You didn’t answer. What was there to say?

The bartender slid a glass across the counter toward you, and you turned away from Joel entirely, focusing on the way the drink caught the light.

When your fingers curled around the glass, there was a brief flicker of indecision. You could leave. You almost did. But you didn’t move.

Instead, you spoke, your voice dipping just slightly into something meant to sound casual, maybe even teasing.

“I’ll be at my desk later tomorrow. In case you were worried about me screwing up your drink. I’ll leave your empty cup exactly where you left it, untouched and perfectly-perfectly still.”

Joel didn’t look at you. His eyes stayed on the bar like it was the most important thing in the room.

“You don’t need to show up tomorrow.”

There was a beat. Your mouth curved into a faint smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

Now he turned to you. His expression was unreadable at first glance, but then you saw it: seriousness cut through with a sharp edge of finality.

“I meant you’re not needed. Someone else will cover for you. Just... remember that in the morning.”

Your smile lingered for a second too long, then wavered. It began to fall in slow increments, first at the corners of your mouth, then in the tightening between your eyebrows.

“What do you mean, someone’s going to cover for me?”

“Just that.” His face turned back toward the wall of bottles.

You watched him lift his drink. Your eyes tracked the movement automatically.

“It’s my job.”

“And it’s not working.”

“That’s not true.”

He turned again, meeting your gaze head-on, and this time it was hard to hold it. His eyes were darker here, more shadow than color.

“I say it is.”

You didn’t speak right away. You were too busy analyzing the lines of his face, the tension in his jaw, the way anger didn’t make him louder, it made him quieter, more dangerous. You didn’t like how familiar that looked. And yet, you didn’t look away. You couldn’t.

The silence stretched for a second too long. You felt heat rise in your chest. Not the good kind, not the alcohol-kind. This was something else. Rejection, maybe. Or disappointment.

Then your father’s voice crossed your mind. Calm. Gentle. Something about not giving up on people just because they made things hard.

So you softened your features. A smile, careful and polite, found its way back onto your lips. You leaned slightly away from the bar.

“Then tell me what I did wrong,” you said, voice low, almost kind. “Tell me what I need to fix. I’ll get better.”

He looked at you like you’d just said something entirely absurd. His frown deepened, confusion and irritation knotting together.

But you didn’t wait for an answer.

You turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. The table was only a few feet away but you could already feel something sour beginning to build behind your ribs. Something bitter and raw. It spread through your chest like smoke.

Anger. Rejection. A familiar sense of helplessness. You didn’t want to name it. You just kept walking.

The voices around the table formed a blur of warmth and movement. Someone was laughing—Jesse, maybe, or Florence—and someone else was talking over them. You nodded when it felt appropriate. Smiled once, faintly. But your mind wasn’t anywhere near them.

It was the alcohol, yes. Liquid and pulsing, filling the hollow space behind your ribs. But it was also Joel. Or rather, the words he’d said to you at the bar, the sharp clarity of them. You kept hearing them again and again, turning them over like pebbles in your mouth. You’re not needed. Someone else will cover for you.

He couldn’t mean that. He didn’t have that kind of authority, right? You weren’t entirely sure. Tommy and Maria made the decisions; they were the ones who assigned the jobs, ran the meetings, kept the town functioning. But Joel was Tommy’s brother. That had to mean something. That had to count in ways you didn’t fully understand.

Still, Tommy liked having you there. He’d told you that more than once. You were good at your work. You showed up early, stayed late when needed. You’d learned how to manage the schedules, the maps, the tool checklists. You were even starting to understand the patrol rotations, and which teams needed what. It had taken you time, but you’d made something steady out of it. Something reliable. You had something to wake up for.

You didn’t want to be reassigned. You didn’t want to fade into some other task, tucked away in the greenhouse or in the kitchen.

Your gaze drifted without purpose until something shifted in your peripheral vision. Joel was getting up from his stool at the bar. He moved slow, with a kind of tension, a tightness held beneath the skin like a wire pulled taut. He didn’t look back.

You watched him turn toward the exit. His shoulders squared. The door opened. A few words trailed behind you—Isabella’s voice, asking something, maybe where are you going—but you weren’t really listening anymore. You were already standing, already moving.

The door clicked shut just before you reached it, and for a second, you stared at the wood, uncertain. Then both your hands came up. One beat, then the next, and you pushed it open. The night air hit your face.

He was ahead of you on the street, walking with that same guarded posture, all straight lines and clenched muscles. You watched the back of his shoulders for a moment. And still, your feet moved. Fast enough to close the space between you. Something inside you pushed up and outward, a combination of anger and something smaller.

“Hey,” you said, your voice catching a little in your throat. You kept walking, your boots crunching softly. “Joel.”

He turned, just slightly. A pause so brief it almost didn’t register. Then he kept walking, his boots hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, as though your presence behind him hadn’t made any difference at all.

“I’m talking to you,” you called, your voice rising as you picked up your pace.

You reached out and caught his arm. The fabric of his sleeve felt coarse against your fingers, and the heat of his skin underneath startled you with how real it was. He shook you off, not violently, but not gently either. The motion was abrupt, like he couldn’t stand the feel of your hand there.

“What?” he said, his voice clipped. It wasn’t angry exactly, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of tension, like he was trying hard not to raise his voice.

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing yourself not to shrink beneath the weight of his disapproval.

“What did you mean back there?” you asked, chin lifted.

He exhaled through his nose, eyelids heavy as if something unseen pressed behind them. When he looked at you, his gaze was hooded and sharp, like a blade dulled by use but still dangerous.

“Go home,” he said. “You’re drunk.”

He turned again, dismissing you like it was nothing, like you were nothing. And that did something to you.

You reached out, again. Your hand landed on his arm. This time, he turned even faster, face hardening.

“You can’t take me out of it,” you said, your words a little breathless now.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

“I’ve been doing a good job,” you insisted, stepping closer to him now. The distance between you had shrunk to inches.“I know I have. I’ve worked hard to learn everything. Tommy knows it, Maria too.”

He exhaled harshly through his nose, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His face was made of hard lines and sharp shadows here, his features drawn and difficult to decipher. But something in the way his jaw locked made your pulse beat faster.

“You’re not the one who decides that. I am.”

You tilted your head up toward him. “Oh, and you think I haven’t been doing well?”

“I think,” he said, stepping back, “that if something’s broken, you fix it. You don’t keep pretending it works just because. And you don’t work for me.”

You parted your lips to respond, to tell him he was wrong, but he had already turned, already started walking away like the conversation had ended.

It hadn’t. Not for you.

“Tommy doesn’t think that,” you said quickly, following him. Your feet carried you back to his side before you fully registered it. “He told me this morning. He said I was doing a good job.”

Joel kept walking. His gaze stayed fixed ahead. “I talked to him later.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, bitter and short.

“Right. Is that why you went to find him after patrol?” The memory struck you with a fresh kind of clarity. “You interrupted our conversation just to ask him to pull me off your side?”

Joel didn’t say a word.

You stepped forward, voice already sharp at the edges. “And what did he say to you?”

He stopped then, feet halting against the ground, body pivoting with the kind of restrained force that made your pulse kick. When he turned to face you, his eyes were shadowed, unreadable, and his voice came out low and rasped like it had been dragged across gravel.

“What do you think he said? If something isn’t working, it isn’t working.”

You stared at him.

“If?” you echoed, the word brittle and incredulous. “I want to know what he actually said. Right now.”

Your hand found its way to his chest, more instinct than intention. You pushed, not hard enough to move him, not really, but enough to make a point. Then you stepped past him, your feet carrying you down the path toward Tommy’s house before you fully realized that’s where you were headed.

You didn’t even know what you were doing, what your end goal was. It was late, the windows would be dark, and you had no intention of waking Maria or Benjamin. But it didn’t matter. You weren’t walking to get answers. You were walking to see if Joel would follow.

He did.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice chased after you, footsteps following now.

You didn’t turn around.

“I want to hear it from him,” you snapped. “I have a pretty good idea of what he’ll say.”

Behind you, you heard a click of his tongue, like he couldn’t believe what you were doing.

Your steps quickened. You felt wired, your heart thrumming hard under your ribs. The air was thick with tension and residual whiskey.

You turned your head, only to find him already close. His hand clamped down on your arm.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked, breath hot and sharp. His face hovered too near yours, and his grip tightened. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

You jerked your arm free, violently, the words practically torn from your throat. “Don’t touch me.”

You turned away again, this time with real purpose. But before your second step landed, his hands were at your waist, strong and sudden.

“Joel—fuck!” you shouted, struggling as he hoisted you off your feet.

A growl ripped out of him—not angry, not even purposeful, just something primal and raw that erupted from his chest without permission.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go!”

But he didn’t. He slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. One of his arms locked tight around your thighs to keep you from kicking, the other bracing your weight. The street spun upside down in your vision. Your hair fell across your face, and you felt his heartbeat against your stomach where your body was slumped over his back.

“You’re insane,” you yelled, breathless, every word bouncing off the night air. “Put me down. Right now, Joel!”

But he kept walking, dragging you—furious, humiliated, burning—to wherever the hell he’d decided was far enough from whatever this had turned into.

“What are you doing? Put me down. Joel, I swear to God—put me down right now!” You beat your fists against his back, your voice ricocheting off the quiet street. His flannel shirt bunched under your grip, your fingers clawing at the seams like that might anchor you, or shame him into letting go.

“You’re making a scene,” he muttered, the words strained and annoyed, barely audible from your position flung over his shoulder. “You’re drunk, and you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Uh-huh, you're embarrassing me,” you hissed.

“Be quiet,” he snapped.

A frustrated breath escaped your chest, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. You reached for somethin. His shoulder blade, the collar of his shirt, even the curve of his hip, but you couldn’t find your footing or your dignity. And for a terrifying half second, you considered grabbing his ass purely out of spite.

His boots kept hitting the ground with the same relentless rhythm, the world still upside down in your vision. Your body jerked with each step, and just when you thought he might set you down, he adjusted his grip instead, his arm tightening around your thighs.

“All this,” you muttered under your breath, “over a fucking cup of coffee—”

“I told you to shut up,” he bit out again, this time harsher.

“I’ll talk to Tommy in the morning!” you shouted, twisting in his grip, trying to get your voice to hit something inside him.“You don’t get to decide this for me.”

“You’ll have plenty of free time in the morning. Do whatever you want.”

Your head throbbed from being upside down for so long, the blood rushing to your temples, and the indignation that had started as a low hum now threatened to swallow your entire body. You clenched a fistful of his shirt again.

“Joel,” you gasped, trying to lift your head. “For God’s sake, let me—”

And then, without warning, you were back on your feet. He pivoted with one abrupt motion and set you down. You stumbled a little from the shift, instinctively catching yourself by grabbing his shoulders. His hands were gone before you could find balance, his body stepping back as if he didn’t want to be touched for even a second longer.

You blinked and realized where you were. The porch. Your front door. He’d carried you all the way back without saying a word about it.

He didn’t stay. He turned around instantly. You watched the slope of his shoulders retreating, the rigid tension in his spine, like he was holding everything in with both fists.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you called out. “Joel.”

He kept walking. The sound of his boots was steady and infuriating. He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to look back.

“Joel!” This time, your voice cracked.

And then, without even really deciding to, you bent down and grabbed a small stone from the edge of the porch, something barely larger than a coin. You tossed it—not hard, just enough to get his attention. It hit his back with a faint, almost pitiful sound. You froze.

Joel stopped.

His hand came up to the back of his neck, resting there for a second. Then he turned, first glancing at the ground like he wasn’t sure what he’d just felt, and then lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

“Did you just throw something at me?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it landed hard.

You swallowed, your throat tight. Some part of you wanted to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your lips.

You crossed your arms and stepped back, not in fear—never in fear—but to hold your own ground.

“I’m not afraid of you, Joel.”

His jaw flexed, and his eyes flickered. He didn’t say anything right away, just stared at you in a way that made the night air feel denser.

“I don’t know what the hell your problem is with me,” you said. “But it’s not my fault. I haven’t done anything to you. You’re just—” you paused, tasting the line on your tongue— “you’re just acting like an asshole.”

That landed. You could see it in the shift of his posture, the way he turned fully toward you now.

His voice dropped, hard and low. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

Your arms tightened across your chest. You met his gaze with your chin tipped up just slightly, unwilling to retreat.

“I didn’t call you anything,” you said. “I said you were acting like one.”

There was a flicker, barely there, at the edge of his mouth. Not a smile, not really. But it vanished as quickly as it came, and then he was striding toward you.

You moved instinctively. Backward, step by step, until your spine hit the solid wood of your door. The thud echoed somewhere low in your chest. You stayed there, heart hammering. He stopped in front of you, close enough to steal the air from your lungs. His breathing was uneven, sharp. Like he'd run farther than the porch, farther than the length of the street, and hadn't noticed until just now.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he said. His breath carried whiskey and heat and something mean.

You tilted your chin up, refusing to shrink.

“Or what?” you asked. “What are you going to do?”

He let out a low, humorless laugh, more of a sound than a reaction.

“I’m not afraid of you, Joel,” you added, quieter now. “You’re not going to hurt me. I can see it. It’s written all over you.”

That’s when his hand came up.

His fingers wrapped around your neck. Not tight, not painful, but firm. Enough to make your back press harder into the door. Your lips parted, surprised by the contact. Your hand lifted, almost involuntarily, to his wrist.

“Is this supposed to scare me?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand. “Is that what this is?”

He didn’t answer at first. His eyes weren’t even locked on yours—they kept flicking downward, to your mouth, your throat, your breath. His jaw clenched.

“You’re reckless,” he said at last, almost grinding the word out. “No wonder you ended up almost dying out there in the snow.”

Something in your expression shifted. The humor, the heat, the challenge... gone. Your brows drew together. You blinked.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” you spat, your fingers tightening around his. “I’ve faced worse than you. Men with no soul in their eyes. Men who didn’t even flinch. You don’t scare me.”

He leaned in, the wall of his body pressing yours deeper into the doorframe. His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t fall away either.

“Exactly,” he said, the word shaped like a curse. “You don't know me. That’s what I’m talking about. Reckless.”

The disgust in his tone wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Cold. It sank into your skin like snow melt. You stared up at him, and your eyes stung before you could stop them.

You swallowed. “If you were going to hate me that much,” you said, voice shaking in spite of yourself, “you should’ve just let me die.”

You didn’t remember anything about that day. Nothing concrete, anyway. Just the endless walking, your boots crunching through frozen silence, until your legs gave out and you collapsed into the snow. Cold and still. Then, a flicker: your eyes cracking open, your body hollowed out by exhaustion and pain, your face brushing against someone's chest. Joel.

That was it. That single, dim fragment was all you had. And somehow, that was all you remembered, where he existed—in a lifeless memory, half-buried and weightless.

You pressed both hands against his chest, shoving him with more strength than you expected to find in yourself. He staggered back a step, not stumbling, just readjusting. Your palm came instinctively to your neck, your fingers brushing over the sensitive place beneath your jaw—the familiar ridge of scar tissue, faint but present.

Joel’s eyes dropped. You could see the moment he noticed it. His gaze locked there, unmoving. Something in his expression shifted, so subtly it might’ve gone unnoticed.

“I have nothing,” you said, your voice steady. You stepped toward him, and this time, he didn’t move. He just watched you, his jaw tight. “Nothing in this world. You dragged me here, so what was the point? Why bring me if you were going to treat me like this?”

He didn’t speak. You tilted your chin up, trying to catch the truth on his face.

“What did I do to you?” you asked.

For a moment, his eyes softened. He looked down.

You studied him in the quiet. The lines under his eyes, the uneven scar near his temple. The tanned skin. And his hair, with a few stray curls that fell behind his ears. You wondered if he ever let anyone touch them.

Then he looked at you again, and whatever softness had surfaced vanished.

He reached forward, his palm flattening briefly over your chestbone. It wasn’t affectionate. It wasn’t violent either. Just a firm press, like a boundary made tactile. Then he stepped away.

“I told you from the beginning,” he said, voice clipped. “I didn’t want you close.”

“You think I’m chasing after you?” you snapped.

“No. Get another job. This one’s not for you.”

And then he turned, like it was over. Like he’d said everything that needed to be said and there was nothing left worth staying for.

“No,” you said.

It was quiet, but he heard you. He stopped. Turned.

His face twisted slightly, confusion etched into the anger like he didn’t understand what game you were still trying to play.

You didn’t offer him any more words. There was no dramatic speech waiting behind your lips. Just the heat of everything rising in your chest, too big to contain.

You turned your back to him. Fingers found the lock, turned it. The door creaked open. You stepped inside without looking back to see whether he was still standing there or walking away.

You didn’t care.

divider by: omi-resources

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[604to647]

Wrong Number

3.4K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Tim Rockford receives an unexpected text after leaving for work.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, nicknames (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), roleplay (sort of), possessive!Tim, bratty!reader (but not really, just loves to prank her man and gets exactly what she wants), PWP, oral (f receiving; Tim eats it from the back), unprotected PiV, spanking (ass and pussy), roughish sex, dirty talk, pussy pronouns.

A/N: Been feeling out of practice with writing smut lately so... I practiced 😂😁😇 As with all instalments of The Rockford Portfolio, can be read standalone, takes place anytime after their relationship has been established. Inspired by this TikTok prank/trend (a reminder that Tim does not have TikTok - as confirmed in Macarons).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics - tysm 🥰 / Series Masterlist

You couldn’t.  It’s too mean.

Biting your lip to stifle your own giggles, you practically skip back to your and Tim’s bedroom - pretty pink sheer nightgown flouncing as you contemplate going through with your prank.

Settling on top of your now cooled sheets, your mind flashes back to scenes from the previous night: Tim’s smoldering gaze washing down your body as he towered over you, playing you like his own personal instrument - three fingers strumming and curling until you sang the demanded melody for which only he had the sheet music.  You came twice before he finally fed you his cock - taking you pressed up against the window overlooking the friendly neighbourhood street in front of your building while growling anything but friendly filth in your ear about how anyone could look up and see how you were born to bounce on his dick.

Then there was this morning: Tim’s head between your legs as your thighs quaked, threatening to close over his ears as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your cunt with his talented tongue; only letting you repay the favour after you had thoroughly soaked his facial scruff and the front of his sleeping shirt with your nectar.  You can still taste the salt of him on your tongue and feel the rawness in your throat from the scape of Tim’s thick length, now much soothed having been coated with the creamy balm of his cum.

You should be contented, fulfilled - but you’re not; the greedy ache between your legs growing by the second and making its presence known like a horny little devil.

As a matter of personal principal, you never say “I wish you didn’t have to go” or “Please don’t leave” to your detective when duty calls.  Though these thoughts are not unfamiliar to your heart, you have no desire to ever ask your man to choose between you and his work, nor do you think it would sit well with either of you if Tim were to shirk his law enforcement responsibilities at your request.

Instead, you just wrap your arms around Detective Rockford’s thick trunk a little tighter, chase his lips a little bit longer like you did only five minutes ago when he left for the precinct this Saturday morning.  You and Tim recited your usual ritual, simple and familiar words dressing feelings of worry and longing that run deeper than either of you can ever articulate in these moments:

Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.

Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.

This morning, however, these soft declarations don’t calm your heart or abate your want for your handsome detective as they usually would.  Your little devil clenches on nothing, demanding and egging you on – it’s Saturday and he’s only going in for a few hours of paperwork, what’s the harm in reminding Tim of what he has waiting at home?

The words, copied from a couples prank trending on TikTok, loaded with innuendo and implication is already typed out on your phone; your thumb hovers over the SEND button of the fake “wrong number” text: He just left, you can come over now 💋💋💋

You press SEND and wait - the read receipt indicates it’s seen right away; chewing your bottom lip, you watch as three little dots pop up to show that Tim’s typing a response.  Eagerly, you wait for his text - but it never comes; the dots vanish, reappearing a moment later only to disappear again without any message coming through.

Then you hear it.

A siren. 

At first a faint wail, the sound quickly crescendos to a blaring horn as the source approaches at an impressive speed.  You bound to the window and watch as Tim’s Crown Vic, cherry light flashing on the hood, roars down your street and parallel parks back into the spot he only just vacated with a precision that makes your mouth go dry.  Tim climbs out and slams the driver’s side door closed, long legs already taking him halfway to your building.  He looks pissed.

For a second you panic, he does know it’s a prank, right?  He must – Tim’s a brilliant detective after all; there’s no way he would actually believe the text is real and that you’re cheating on him – just as Tim never gives you any reason to doubt his devotion and fidelity, you’re sure Detective Rockford knows that he’s your one and only.  The message has done its job: Tim’s back and he’s definitely riled up - you race back onto the bed, positively giddy with anticipation of your detective’s return.

Faking interest in your phone, you pretend to be unaware of your front door being flung open, then ceremoniously slammed shut with a forceful bang.  Heavy footsteps echo through the apartment, growing in volume before coming to a stop in your bedroom’s open doorway.

“What have you been doing, Shutterbug?”

You look up, the perfect picture of innocence, as if only just noticing Tim’s return: he’s leaning against the doorframe, one flexed forearm braced above his head – you squeeze your thighs together at the sight.

“Just scrolling through Instagram.  You’re back already, Detective?”

“Got a text I couldn’t ignore,” he stalks towards the bed and holds up his phone, the prank text you just sent displayed on the screen, “what’s this all about, baby?”

“I don’t have the foggiest clue, but you’re the detective, not me,” you goad him, unable to keep your lips from curling into a smirk.

Tim studies the dancing mischief in your big doe eyes – he’s seen through this type of feigned confusion from plenty of perps in the interrogation room, but on you, it’s cute.  He begins to crawl over your body, grinning to himself when your breath hitches at the obsidian of his eyes, “I think you wanted me to see this text, wanted me to go nuts.”

You flutter your eye lashes, “Why would I want that, Detective?”

Tim advances, predatory and dangerous – with nowhere to go, you fall back onto your soft bedding with a sharp exhale, “Maybe my pretty baby needs a reminder on who she belongs to?  Or perhaps, you’re just being a greedy girl?”

Still relishing your role as the bright-eyed innocent, you say nothing – Tim’s hulking frame hovers and you happily breathe in his intoxicating scent, a mixture of his cologne, clean soap, and authority.  He’s so, so close but has yet to touch you since returning; it takes all of your self restraint not to reach up and grab Tim by the leather holster straps bracketing his thick arms and pull him down for a kiss.

“Is my little Shutterbug not satisfied? Didn’t I fill you with enough cum last night? You seemed plenty happy this morning when I was eating your hungry hole like a cream puff.”

Fuck.  Your only answer is a pathetic whine.

“You need more, gorgeous?”

Your vigorous nod is almost comical - Tim chuckles darkly and leans in.  You arch up, eager to meet his lips - but the sweet connection you’ve been craving never comes; Tim is stilled above you, teasing eyes fixed on your growing frustration.

“Maybe I’m not the man for the job since I was the one who left you sooooo needy?”

You could cry, “You are! I want you, Detective!”

Tim pulls his handsome face away, escaping the reach of your clawing hands, “You sure you don’t need someone else, baby?  Maybe the lucky man who was supposed to receive this text?”

Fisting his crisp white dress shirt so hard it might rip, you beg, “I’m sure, Tim! You, I only need you!”

No match for Tim’s strength, you watch helplessly as Tim easily breaks free from your grip and moves backwards off the bed, “I don’t know, Shutterbug.  Just a couple minutes ago you were inviting someone over to give you what I couldn’t – you can’t be that sure. Maybe I need to convince you?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Tim grabs you by the ankles and pulls you down the bed towards him, flipping you onto your stomach with a blinding speed that knocks the breath out of your lungs.  His hands travel up your thighs, thick fingers digging into the meat of your hips and yanking up so you’re now on your knees, face still smothered into your bedspread, moaning.

Smack.

You yelp, dizzy from the pleasure of the sting left behind on your ass cheek from Tim’s generous palm.

“Love the way this ass bounces for me.”  Smack, smack. “She dances like this for anyone else?”

Turning your head to press your cheek on the soft covers, you look back to admire the dominating stance Tim takes at the foot of the bed, whimpering, “No, Detective.”

He smiles at you indulgently, but his eyes remain hunter-like; flipping up the thin skirt of your night gown and roughly pulling down your panties before dropping to his knees.

“Hello again, beautiful.” A puff of cool hair hits your glistening pussy and you clench from the syrupy sweetness of Tim’s baritone.

Two thick fingers part your sticky folds and massage your slit, collecting and spreading the slick that continues to drip from you.  You curve the slope of your back further, pressing your chest into the mattress and wiggling your ass for more.  At the two sharp slaps to your pussy, you lurch, moaning heady and unabashed as Tim soothes his reprimand with gentle butterfly kisses all over your cunt.

A smile is pressed to your heat, “Hmmmm, she said she didn’t have anything to do with the text, baby - that it was all you. She’s my good girl.”

“Traitor,” you mutter into the sheets, but beam as Tim nuzzles and strokes his nose over your core, you feel rather than hear his barely audible purring:

Such a good, good girl.  So perfect.  You know who you belong to, don’t you?

“Timmmmmmmm…” you whine, reminding him that you’re the one who needs tending to, you’re the one who called him back.

Tim ignores you and continues to lay soft, sweet kisses to your pussy, singing her praises, “You know you don’t need anyone else - isn’t that right, beautiful?  Doesn’t matter who she texts; no boy is ever going to give it to you like I can.”

A completely irrational, hot surge of jealousy nearly snaps your head around when your body jumps and shudders, words of protest stuck in your throat as Tim dives face first into your blooming cunt and starts to devour you.

There’s no gentleness, no build-up, Detective Rockford simply feasts – guided by hunger, determination, instinct.  Every lick and slurp of Tim’s tongue substantiates the claims of his earlier words, there’s no inch of your pussy that’s safe from the resolve of his mouth.  He power strokes your wet folds and torments your hole with his tongue, his lips, his nose; every switch up, change in direction or pattern is purposeful, meant to disorient you – and it’s working: you think you’re going to lose you goddamn mind.  Arousal flooding down your inner thighs, there’s nowhere for you to find reprieve - Tim’s rough hands grip bruises into your ass cheeks, spreading them wide and keeping you at his mercy.  By now, you’re mewling and clawing at the sheets above your head, the only coherent sound that escapes your drooling mouth is the repetition of your detective’s name.  Tim’s own growls and the wet smacking of his continued raid on your cunt echo off the walls in your other otherwise silent and serene bedroom; impossibly, your detective doubles down with a snarl, sucking and gnawing a practiced path from your clit to your ass and back, over and over and over.  He’s barely breeched your opening and you’re already about to come.

“Fuck, fu- Tim, I’m so close, so close, I’m gon-, gonna… fuck, baby, please!!”

Detective Rockford comes off your cunt with the loudest pop you’ve ever heard, and continues to conspire against you in a playful yet domineering tone, “Should we let her come, beautiful?  Let her be a good girl, too?”

Throwing your head back in a howl, you tighten, empty and desperate – this answer apparently placating Tim enough for him dive back in, he latches directly onto your pulsing clit and starts sucking.

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train and you scream and pound your fists into the mattress.  Tim’s soothing palm rubbing your ass as you ride out the aftershocks of one of the most explosive highs you’ve ever experienced distracts you enough that you don’t hear the clinking of his belt buckle and the undoing of his work trousers.

Jaw slack and eyes still partially unfocused, you remain faced down and ass up, unmoving, when out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim lift and press one of his knees on the bed for leverage.  He wicks his swollen head through the honey of your release and you shiver in anticipation; later, you would look back on the last thing you hear before Tim pushes in as a clear warning:

“I’m not going to make the same mistake of leaving you needy again, Shutterbug.”

He pounds into you.

Every one of Tim’s thrusts is unrelenting on your sopping hole; she does her best to hug and console his cock with her warm embrace, but Tim’s drive is unforgiving – this is about proving a point.  Panting and grunting with the intensity of his exertion, Detective Rockford ruts into you animalistic, feral and with his vice grip on your waist, he bounces you to meet each punishing jab.  Bottoming out every push, Tim’s balls slap against your clit like the crop against a racehorse’s hind and you neigh and whinny in response - high and wild, trying to run.  He grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back, then lifts his knee to place his foot down in its place; with you pinned to the bed and trapped, the steepness of this new angle is delicious.

Tim repeatedly sheaths himself into your warmth, withdrawing wholly and waiting to witness the cry of your gushing cunt before slamming himself back in again.  You whine and plead, for what you don’t even know – the pleasure that Tim’s giving you is so intense, so merciless, you’re feeling like you might actually float away when your man’s dirty mouth brings you crashing back to Earth.

“Your pussy looks so good like this, Shutterbug – stretched wide and taking dick.”

“Knew exactly what you were doing sending me that text, didn’t you?  Knew even the idea of another man touching you would send me racing home…”

You think you might pass out.

“… to give you this cock.”

“This what you wanted, baby?”

You mumble something incoherently into the pool of drool that’s collecting on the bedspread.

“Yeah?  You wanted to be fucked hard and dumb?”

“Just a little plaything for me to tear apart and put back wet and bare before leaving for work?”

“Omigod, Tim!!  Yes, yes!”  Lightheaded and unable to take a full breath with the way your chest is being driven into the mattress, your pussy throbs - pleasure blossoming from Tim’s possessive and dominant tone.

“Could the little boy toy you text make you feel this way?”

You shake your head into the wet sheets, the welcomed hurt from your arms being pulled back only amplifying just how good Tim is making the rest of your body feel.

“Who is it you need, Shutterbug?”

You want to reply that it’s him, only ever him, but your eyes are too busy rolling to the back of your head and your body is being jolted too violently by the force of Tim’s thrusts for you to collect your thoughts, nevermind form words.

Known for doggedly getting to the truth of any matter, Detective Rockford pulls you up and holds you flush against his chest, strong forearm banding below your tits while his other hand comes to a rest at the base of your neck.  You loll your head back against Tim’s shoulder, sighing at the coolness of his holster leather against the heat of your skin.  Tim fucks up into you from below and you both gasp from the electric shock of this new position, “Fuck, you’re so deep, Detective.”

Your detective bounces you on his cock and with every punch, reaching those part of you that only he’s ever explored and marked.  An alarmingly low growl ghosts the shell of your ear, “I asked, who is it you need, baby?”

 “You, oh god, only you, Tim!!”

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“That’s right.  You’re mine, gorgeous.”

“Gonna make you come so hard, your pretty head will never forget.”

“That you belong to me.”

“This pussy belongs to me.”

“The way it comes belongs to me.”

“You ONLY come for me.”

He’s ramming into you so hard, you can only attempt a pathetic nod against his shoulder, whispering against Tim’s lips, “Yours.”

“Fuck.”

Tim’s lips crash against yours in the first kiss you’ve shared since he left this morning; you both moan loudly at the much-missed contact, mouths unable to conceal the affection and love you hold for one another despite the way Tim continues to destroy your needy cunt.

He tastes of you and when your tang transfers from his tongue to yours, you shudder and clamp down on his cock; sinfully, you lick behind Tim’s teeth and suck on his lips, returning your essence back to its rightful owner - See?  Yours, all of me is yours. 

Grabbing fists full of your tits, Tim squeezes the soft flesh and pulls on your aching peaks, causing you to cry out and break the kiss; he gives it to you so rough and punishing everywhere, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.  The stranglehold of your pussy is sucking him so tight and deep, Tim knows he won’t last much longer, he continues to twist and roll your diamond hard nipples while snipping at your earlobes, “I’m close, baby.  Give me one more and I’ll stuff my pretty cocksleeve to the brim with cum.”

It's the dirtiest, filthiest, hottest thing Tim has ever called you, and wailing something catastrophic, you come instantly at his words.  Tim follows soon after, painting your velvet walls with ropes of white as promised.

While you wait for your heartbeat to return to normal, Tim holds you tender and protective, fluttering sweet kisses all over your face, across your neck, along your shoulders - murmuring with genuine concern, “You okay, Shutterbug?  Was that okay?”

You nod, spent and pliant, “It was perfect, Detective.  Better than anything I could have imagined.”

He lays you down gently and you melt into the bed as Tim goes to fetch a cloth for cleanup.  As he gently wipes the mess that’s begun trickling out of your sore and satiated cunt, you think you hear him whisper to himself, amused, “Stuffed to the brim”.  Sitting next to you on the bed, Tim brushes the hair out of your face and rubs your limp body with his now gentle hands until he’s comfortable with the condition he’s leaving you in.

Grabbing a blanket, he presses soft kisses down your exposed back and at your quiet exhale of contentment, smiles before covering you with the cozy fabric.  He sneaks one last loving kiss to your hair and stands, admiring the angelic serenity that’s taken over your dozing face.

“Tim?” you murmur into your pillow, barely audible.

“Shutterbug?”

“You know that text wasn’t real, right?  There isn’t anyone but you,” somewhere halfway between consciousness and dreamland, you crack open your sleepy eyes, voice vulnerable and small.

Tim kneels next to the bed so you can see the affection in his eyes, “I know, baby.  Just as there isn’t anyone but you for me.”  Lightly stroking your pretty face with the back of two of his thick fingers, Detective Rockford continues, good humour on display, “Besides, what kind of detective would I be if I believed that text at face value when I already have all the evidence in the world that the woman I love is beyond loyal and trustworthy?  She’s perfect and true.”

You give his fingers a sweet peck, too exhausted at the moment to express the depth of your gratitude for Tim’s faith in your love - you’ll have to show him later.  “Ok, good.  Just making sure,” your eyes close again, smile dopey, “come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.”

“Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.  I love you.”

“Love you,” you coo, already drifting off into a deep slumber.

Leaving you to your rest, Detective Rockford departs with a silent promise that he’ll return home as soon as he can - walking to his car for the second time this morning with a little extra spring in his step.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[obeythebutler]

Hello, how are you?

I was wondering if I could get Lucifer with the prompt “I could be anything you’d ever need somehow”?

I’m glad to see you back, your works have a special place in my heart ❤️

TW: grief, mentions of death

On a train ride back to the inner circle of the Devildom, your eyes feel heavy.

There's a comforting hum in the air, and your stomach pleasantly full with food. You are tired too, after a weekend of fun in the outskirts with your demons, and this peace brings with it tiredness. The hellfire jasmine weaved into your hair crumples when you attempt to rest your head on the seat, neck straining uncomfortably. Lucifer had plucked the flower for you, and you remember the sharp contrast of white against his black gloves.

You chose comfort over potentially developing an ache, and settle your head on your seat partner—Lucifer's shoulders in a fluid motion as if it's your birthright.

Might as well be, given that he drapes his coat over you after, encircling an arm over you.

Lucifer's scent envelops your senses, the cologne he wears offers familiarity. Everyone else is also half-asleep in their seats, and no one is waking up anytime soon.

You squeeze Lucifer's hand briefly, and feel him squeeze back. Then let the delicious surge of sleep wash over you.

"Luciferrrrr?"

"That tone of voice does not have benign intentions."

"Depends on your interpretation," You say, snaking a hand around his waist, pinching him gently so that he startles a little.

"What is it now?" He muses, eyebrow raised at you in exasperated affection. "Another devilgram reel that you will make me watch at gunpoint?"

You rub your face into his arm. "I want you to participate, actually." Lucifer stiffens at that.

"No." Firm, resounding, absolute. His word is the law.

You have always been lawless.

"Think over it," You propose and take your D.D.D. out to show him the reel that you want him to recreate. A cacophony of moans and pop lyrics assault his eardrums.

"Absolutely not."

"Fineeeeeeeee," You get up, heading towards the door. He still stands firm. Face unimpressed with your antics. Or tomfoolery, as he would put it. "I'll just have to ask someone else then......"

You make sure to walk at a snail's pace towards the oak door, periodically looking back at him with woeful glances. Like a puppy.

He does not budge.

Admitting defeat, you open the door. You will just have to find someone else then.

"Giving up so easily?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Perhaps. Do not get too excited though."

A letter from your realm threatens to shift the world from underneath your feet.

Disbelief clouds your mind, at first. It leads to blind fumbling and a hastily conjured portal, and the seven brothers are left waiting for what is next. You had declined their offer to come along, wanting to go alone.

The sigil ignites at midnight before you arrive. Your eyes are bloodshot, and movements scattered as funeral preparations take over your mind. Their will, their wishes, their life, and the emptiness it brings.

It's a much-needed distraction before the new reality becomes your world.

The mattress shifts underneath your weight as you hold your head in your hands. The acrid smell and the sterile environment of the hospital still lingers in your senses. You should have been with them longer in the human world—talked more—stayed more and—only—only if you were not so selfish.

Your shoulders shake with silent sobs.

Teeth clench together, and your heart threatens to rip out of your chest. You let the sobs out freely now, guilt heavy in your throat. Oh god, they're gone.

You ignore the new weight on your bed, not caring to spare a glance but instead shoving your face in their chest. Your tears dampen his shirt, and you wonder if he might feel the wetness.

"I know," Lucifer mutters, voice small. His hand rubs circles into your back. "I'm so sorry."

Your eyes look bleary.

Five cups of coffee and a half-finished assignment stares at you. Your hand aches too—from holding the pen for hours. Its three a.m. and you have a submission due tomorrow. You cannot afford to ask for a deadline.

Lucifer comes besides you.

"Hi," You mumble, voice groggy.

"Hello," He says, and puts an arms around your aching shoulders. "You should sleep. You have to be up for class in four hours."

"But there is this assignment—"

"Go to sleep," He interrupts, his hand that is around your shoulders now massaging your hand, rubbing circles into the cramped muscle. You release your grip on the pen.

"We will see what is to be done tomorrow." The demon declares with finality.

You do not have the strength to retort, and you mumble into the paper a quiet agreement.

He leads you back to your bed, tucks you into the blanket and kisses your head.

"Goodnight," Lucifer says. "Sleep well."

[firewasabeast]

prompt: the rest of the 118 see tommy and buck be affectionate together for the first time. not just the aftermath, like with the wedding kiss, but they actually witness it. cuteness overload!

It took a few weeks for everything to calm down enough for everyone to get together.

The 118 was adjusting to working under Captain Gerrard.

Bobby and Athena were adjusting to moving into an apartment half the size of their house.

Hen and Karen were adjusting to visits with Mara every chance they could get.

Chimney and Maddie were adjusting to having two young girls running around the house.

Eddie was adjusting to being alone.

And Buck was less adjusting and more enjoying his new romance with Tommy.

He didn't mention Tommy much at work. He got sick of Gerrard's one-off comments pretty quickly. Usually, he would have been egging him on every chance he got, but it turns out he was more protective of Tommy than he originally realized, and anytime his name came out of Gerrard's mouth it made him want to punch the man.

It was easier to not bring him up.

When Bobby and Athena had finally settled into their new place, which very conveniently had a grilling and picnic area on the roof, they invited everyone over.

Bobby made sure to include Tommy in his invitation. His and Buck's relationship may have been new, but he was an old friend to the majority of the 118, and a new friend to those he hadn't known all that long.

He did not include the fact that Athena was insistent on seeing their dynamic because, “One of them is gonna give the other a run for their money and I can't figure out which one's which yet.”

In fact, the majority of the group was interested in seeing Tommy and Buck together. Everyone except Eddie, who accidentally witnessed far too much of their dynamic a couple weeks ago when he decided to head into Buck's place without knocking first.

It would be the last time he ever made that mistake.

The others couldn't help their curiosity. It was the first time Buck had ever seemed so settled in a relationship. The first time he wasn't asking for near-constant advice. The first time he wasn't endlessly concerned he was doing something wrong or about to screw things up.

Something was different. Something had shifted. They wanted to know what it was.

And while Hen and Chimney had known Tommy for a long time, they hadn't exactly stayed in touch after he left. Up until the cruise rescue, Hen hadn't really spoken to him at all, and Chimney would send him a text or two each year just to ask how he was keeping up. The Tommy they knew was closeted, scared, defensive under Gerrard's leadership, cocky, and seemingly always searching for something... more.

“I'm kinda bummed,” Buck said as they headed up to the roof.

“What?” Tommy glanced at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because everyone already knows you,” he explained. “I can't introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Tommy smiled, eyes crinkling up in the cute way Buck loved. He switched the wine bottle he was holding to his other hand took Buck's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You can still do that, if you want. I mean, they might look at you funny, but who cares, right?”

Buck squeezed his hand back. After a moment, he gasped, eyes widening as he did a little jump. “I can introduce you to all the kids!” he exclaimed.

Tommy couldn't help but laugh at Buck's excitement. “That sounds perfect, Evan.”

*****

Bobby wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this point only five minutes into Buck arriving, but here they were. Before Tommy had even handed off the wine, Buck was going into a story on Gerrard mentioning the 1933 Griffith Park Fire, but he had been wrong about some information.

“And I was trying to tell him how twenty-nine people died, not twenty-seven, but he was insistent that I was wrong. I knew I wasn't. I had just spent a couple hours the other night reading over articles about it. When was it, Tommy?” he asked, turning to his boyfriend, “Two nights ago?”

“Uh, three. Three nights ago.”

“Right, three nights ago. See, two people died later at the hospital, so they weren't included in the initial death toll. So, obviously, I had to get online and show him...”

As Buck continued, Bobby nodded along, trying to take in at least some of what he was saying. Sometimes, when Buck got on tangents like these, it was hard to keep up.

As the discussion got more heated, Bobby noticed Tommy's hand drifted to Buck's back, resting at the base. Buck continued without missing a beat, but his voice calmed and his posture relaxed.

“Did he ever admit defeat?” Tommy asked. To Bobby's surprise, Tommy had kept his eyes on Buck the entire time. He seemed genuinely interested in every word that was coming out of Buck's mouth.

Buck shook his head. “No, he'd never do that. But he was quiet for the rest of the day, so I took it as a win.”

“Oh, that's definitely a win,” Tommy agreed.

Not that he ever doubted, but it was then that Bobby knew his initial analysis was correct. Tommy was good people, and he was good for Buck.

*****

Hen's eyes drifted over the rooftop, settling between Tommy and Buck. She had noticed earlier how they always seemed to gravitate toward each other. Now was no different. Even though they were on opposite sides of the roof, Buck talking to Maddie, and Tommy having a very expressive conversation with Jee, they would steal glances at each other. A smile here, a wink there. Buck even gave Tommy a little wave, like they hadn't been sitting side by side only five minutes ago.

“I don't think it's just the honeymoon phase for those two,” Athena said, scooting a chair closer to Hen before sitting down.

Hen rolled her eyes affectionately at yet another tiny wave from Buck before turning to Athena. “I think I agree. I've never seen Buck so smitten before, and I don't use that word often.”

“Mhm,” Athena hummed with a nod. “Tommy seems just as smitten as Buck. I don't ever remember him looking so peaceful before. I haven't worked with him much since he transferred to Harbor, but I remember what he was like before.”

Hen huffed out a laugh. “Arrogant?”

“And stiff.”

“Yeah. He changed a lot, especially after Gerrard left, but this is different.”

They kept watching as Jee got distracted by Mara and they ran off to play. Tommy walked over to Buck, who held out his hand for Tommy to take before Tommy was even close.

As soon as he could, Tommy took his hand and sat down beside him on the little couch. Buck leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, then they laughed deep and loud.

“If I watch anymore of this I'm gonna throw up,” Hen said, standing up. “I'm gonna go rescue Karen from whatever game Denny is showing her on his phone.”

Athena laughed, squeezed Hen's hand as she went by, but kept her attention on the boys.

She couldn't seem to look away.

*****

Maddie tapped Chimney's thigh, nodding toward where Buck and Tommy were standing in a corner of the rooftop, watching the sunset. They had their arms wrapped around one another, occasionally stealing a chaste kiss. “They look so happy,” she said, a warm smile on her face.

“Yeah, they do,” Chimney agreed. “I'm happy for both of them. They're good together.”

“Yeah, they are. Did you know Buck hasn't even been to his loft in a week? When he's not working he's at Tommy's place.”

“And they're not sick of each other yet?” Chimney laughed. “Oh, they're in deep.”

Before Maddie could respond, Eddie was coming up to them, kneeling down beside Chimney. “We gotta hide the clipboards.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm serious, man, we're gonna be in deep trouble if we don't.”

Maddie leaned forward. “Why do you need to hide the clipboards, Eddie?”

Eddie motioned to Buck and Tommy. Tommy had an arm around Buck's shoulder now, both of Buck's still wrapped around Tommy's waist. He had his head resting against Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy pressed a kissed to the top of his head. “Have you seen the two of them? I'm not even gonna go into what I witnessed a couple weeks ago-”

“Thank God.”

“-but they've got it bad for each other. I give it six months before they're engaged. You know what happens after that?”

Chimney thought for a second, sucking in a breath when the realization hit him. “Wedding planning.”

“Wedding planning,” Eddie repeated.

Maddie shook her head. “You guys are crazy.”

“What? You don't think they'll be ready to walk down the aisle in six months time?” Chimney asked.

“Oh, no, they definitely will. You're just crazy if you think not being able to find a clipboard will stop him. I don't know if you guys know this, but Notes app Buck is far worse than clipboard Buck.”

[reiderwriter]

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

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

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

Masterlist || Song Fic Challenge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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