#y’all better leave my girl alone

[callmeteach]

I’m not understanding why everyone wants the killer to be Mags like??? what did my girl do to y’all😭? there’s no evidence or reason pointing to her (other than people saying they want it for a shock factor) like huh??

[jaeyunverse]

kiss cam

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, frenemies to lovers, high school au, basketball au

wc: 3770

warnings: profanity, mentions of kidnapping

summary: you were fully prepared to spend valentine’s day alone. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

note: i know i’m off season but i still hope y’all enjoy <3

masterlist

It was Valentine’s Week and you were absolutely, extremely, horribly miserable.

You didn’t particularly care about the celebrations, but the feeling of loneliness first began to creep in when the student council appointed a Valentine’s Day Dance committee and made them decorate the entire school. 

There were banners and streamers hanging everywhere. The culinary club was selling heart-shaped cookies and the broadcasting club was busy urging students to get their dance invites every few hours. You wished the PA system would malfunction and they would finally shut up. 

Some boys even had the genius idea to capitalise Valentine’s Day and ask people out on behalf of the students who paid them for their services. They called themselves Cop-Your-Crush. 

Classes were being interrupted all day long. You were witnessing a grand proposal being made multiple times a day. Just today, you had seen three girls being asked out and each proposal had been better than the one before.

Karina got asked out through a song the choir group sang for her. She quite literally burst into tears because her boyfriend, Soobin, still remembered the song they had first kissed to. 

NingNing got asked out when a member of Cop-Your-Crush sweet-talked Mrs. Kim into letting him take over her presentation. He’d prepared a cute montage using the pictures provided to him by her boyfriend. 

Yeji got asked out by the cheerleaders. They had prepared a special cheer for her, courtesy of Heeseung, also a member of Cop-Your-Crush, and his girlfriend, Chaewon, who was cheer captain. They were both Yeji’s best friends and had spared no expense in helping her boyfriend deliver a memorable proposal. 

You thought the entire concept was corny, but it would have been nice to have someone ask you out too. You didn’t even have any expectations. Just a simple Hey, will you be my date to the Valentine’s Dance? would have sufficed. 

Needless to say, you were irritated and cranky. You were debating begging your mom to let you skip school tomorrow. It was the thirteenth of February, so Valentine’s spirit was definitely going to be at an all-time high. 

You slammed your locker door shut. Slumping against it, you clutched your books to your chest and sighed deeply. If only you had the courage to ask your crush to the dance. It was sort of surprising that he still didn’t have a date. 

He was really attractive and really popular. You wondered why—

“Keep moving, dummy,” a voice popped from behind you, and you couldn’t help the groan that left your mouth. Deciding to not acknowledge the person further, you pushed yourself off the locker and turned to leave in the opposite direction. However, they seemed to have different plans for you. Throwing an arm around your neck, Yang Jungwon twisted you around and said, “Class is this way.” 

“Piss off, Yang,” you snapped, trying to not stumble as he dragged you along. 

“Are you coming to the basketball game tonight?” Jungwon inquired.

He wasn’t much taller than you, so when you glanced up at him, you found your faces only a few inches apart. “Why?” 

“We’re playing Riverside High. You know there’s a bet between our schools, right? Losers have to jump in the lake at midnight.” 

“Okay. Let me know if you lose and I’ll meet you there to enjoy your humiliation.” 

Jungwon narrowed his eyes and flicked your forehead. You let out a sound of protest and slapped his hand away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I have better things to do,” you retorted. “I’m supposed to pick up my sister after her soccer practice and drive her to her friend’s house for a sleepover.” 

“That can be taken care of,” he answered immediately. “Riki will do the chauffeuring in your place.” 

You snorted. “No.” 

“C’mon!” Jungwon complained, moving to stand in front of you. You crossed your hands and raised an eyebrow. “I need you at the game tonight.” 

“Why?” 

“Because—” he hesitated— “because we always win when you’re watching from the stands. You’re our lucky charm.”  

Jungwon was making absolutely no sense. The Bears of Eastwood High were one of the best. They didn’t require lucky charms to win games. Besides, you’d never benefited from the so-called fortune Jungwon claimed you possessed. He definitely had an ulterior motive for wanting you at the court tonight. 

“You won the Christmas game,” you pointed out. “I wasn’t there that day. I was with my family at my childhood home.” 

“Well, I thought you were at the game,” Jungwon corrected. “That’s why we won.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Stepping past his figure blocking your way, you said, “You need to get rid of these superstitions.”  

“Please!” he begged, following after you the way a lost puppy would. “Winning tonight would give us a ticket to regionals! Can’t you let me have this?” 

The desperation in his voice was so evident that you couldn’t help the crack that appeared in your resolve. You weren’t one to believe in luck, but you still carried an Omamori to stay safe. 

You hadn’t exactly been the recipient of any good fortune lately, but your life had been sailing smoothly. Come to think of it, you’d probably subconsciously begun to depend on the charm. 

You were a hypocrite for making fun of Jungwon’s superstitions. 

“Fine,” you relented. “I’ll come. But—” you added immediately upon seeing a wide grin replace the pout on his face— “after I’m done with my chores. I’m not leaving Hyeri with Riki. He crashed his car into a trashcan last week. I was with him. My life flashed in front of my eyes.” 

Jungwon looked slightly amused. “Do you think you might be able to make it before half-time?” 

“Easily.”

“Nice,” he popped. The two of you had arrived at your classroom, so he ruffled your hair and bid you goodbye before making his way towards his friend group. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you muttered to yourself.

You finished dropping your sister earlier than expected. 

Her soccer practice had run short and when you’d checked your watch after seeing her off, you’d realised that the first quarter of the game would be ending in a few minutes. 

You glanced up at the screen displaying the scores as you walked into the gymnasium. 

8-3. Eastwood High in the lead. 

Good luck was a scam. Shaking your head, you searched for your best friend, Eunchae, in the stands. Your eyes stopped on a girl who was aggressively waving her hands in the air. 

You smiled and waved back, making your way to her. 

“I was worried you’d be late,” Eunchae said. 

You hummed. “Hyeri finished her practactice early so I was able to get here quicker. I don’t even know why Jungwon asked me to come. We’re in the lead.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she popped. “Second quarter just started. We should pay attention.” 

You turned to look at the court. While you’d been talking to her, Riverside had scored a 3-pointer. Eastwood was only 2 points ahead now. 

You could hear both schools’ coaches screaming despite the loud noise of the audience. Cringing a little when Mr. Jung blatantly cursed at Jungwon and told him to get his head out of his ass, you decided Eunchae had been right about being better safe than sorry. 

“Timeout!” Riverside High’s coach yelled. “Timeout!” 

The whistle rang and the playing 5 went jogging over to the sidelines. Jungwon’s eye caught yours as he scanned the stands and you waved at him awkwardly. He smiled and waved back, looking rather relieved to see you. 

“You guys are so cute,” Eunchae commented.

You whirled on her. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands defensively. “Jungwon and you would make a really good couple.” 

“What makes you think so?” 

“Other than the fact that he’s completely whipped for you?” Eunchae shrugged. “You’re into him as well. No! Don’t give me that look! I know you are. I’m not fucking blind, Y/N. You say he’s annoying but I don’t see you pushing him away. I think you love the attention he gives you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling awfully exposed. “You’re delusional.” 

“Am I though?” She raised an eyebrow. “You both are together all the time. You can pretend all you want, but I know your petty and childish banter is just a cover for the horrible amount of flirting that’s hidden underneath.”

“I don’t flirt with him!” 

“He flirts with you and you entertain him! You claim to dislike him but hang out with him at school everyday! An idiot could tell by looking at you how much you enjoy being around him.”

You glared at Eunchae. “I don’t appreciate being psychoanalysed.” 

“You just don’t appreciate the truth.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what’s stopping you from asking him out to the dance, but I hope you come to your senses. You don’t wanna regret missing out on someone who cares so much for you.”

Thankfully, the whistle rang before you could formulate a reply. The game began again, and you focused your attention on the court. 

It was Eastwood’s way and the ball was in Jungwon’s hand. He aimed high and his eyes set on Jake who was standing at the far end of the court. However, instead of throwing the ball with all his might, he only flicked his wrist. 

The ball bounced between a Riverside player’s legs, and Heeseung, who was waiting a little behind him, grabbed the ball immediately. Instead of dribbling, the boy passed the ball right back to Jungwon. 

Jungwon caught it without stopping and sprinted to Eastwood’s side of the court. Your jaw dropped when you saw him manoeuvre his way through Riverside’s defence so flawlessly. Even though you’d watched him play multiple times, you’d never really been able to comprehend how good he was. 

He’d covered the court by himself without needing to stop or backtrack. It was as if he knew the opponent’s move even before they decided to make it. 

The crowd went wild the moment Jungwon executed the layup effortlessly. The whistle for half-time blew a few moments after and Eunchae turned to you. 

“That was so good!” she squealed. “He could go pro so easily!”

“He could,” you agreed. “He really is very good.”

You had to admit—watching Jungwon in his element made your heart beat at speeds you didn’t even know it was capable of reaching. You convinced yourself it was the adrenaline and the anticipation from watching the game. Your dad never sat still whenever he watched his favourite team play in the World Cup. 

“It’s time for the Kiss Cam.” Eunchae nudged you with her elbow. You turned to look at the big screen hanging from the roof of the gymnasium. The camera focused on Juyeon and Chaeyeon. The couple grinned and pointed at their recording on the screen in excitement before the latter grabbed the former’s collar and pulled him into a kiss. 

You felt a smile form on your face. You’d always thought the two of them were one of the cutest couples in your school. 

The camera then focused on Mr. Hwang, your biology teacher, and Mrs. Jung, your calculus teacher. You hooted and joined everyone else in the stands as they encouraged the two teachers to kiss. 

Whoever had decided the Kiss Cam victims was a genius. Mr. Hwang and Ms. Jung were the youngest faculty members in your school. It was a popular opinion amongst students that they looked cute together. Some even placed bets on whether it would be Mr. Hwang to make the first move or Ms. Jung. 

Naturally, the two of them didn’t kiss. They just smiled in embarrassment and waved at the camera, asking it to focus on someone else instead. 

You waited eagerly to see who the drone would target next. A jolt passed through your body when you saw yourself on the screen. 

Eyes widening, you shook your head and tried to tell them that you were single. The camera didn’t move despite your protests, instead zooming out to include Eunchae in the frame instead. 

You paused. 

Looked at her.

Considered. 

Raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m down if you—”

“To your left, you idiot!” she exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and whirling you around. 

Yang Jungwon was standing in front of you with flowers in his hands. His hair was dripping with sweat and his cheeks were flushed. He was panting, but there was a shy smile on his face.

Your heart stopped as he got down on his knees and the entire gymnasium burst into cheers. 

“Hey,” he popped. 

“Hey,” you answered with much effort. Then added stupidly, “You’re on your knees.” 

“No comment about the flowers?” 

“Not when you’re on your knees for me in front of the entire school.” 

“Oooh, I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I didn’t know this was why you begged me to come to the game.” 

He laughed and the sound was like music to your ears. You were nervous. You were rambling. There was no way he was going to ask you to the dance. He wouldn’t be stalling so much if he was. He wouldn’t—

Oh. 

He was giving you time to wrap your head around what was happening. This was clearly intended to be a well-planned surprise meant to catch you completely off-guard. He—

“Yeah, I would’ve been really bummed out if you hadn’t shown up. My efforts would have been for nothing.” 

“So I’m not actually your lucky charm?” 

“Of course, you are. I feel the luckiest when I’m with you.” Your chest swelled with an emotion you couldn’t identify. The gymnasium faded into the background and all you could hear was the sound of your heart thudding against your ribcage and Jungwon’s voice as he asked, 

“Will you make me lucky again by accompanying me to the Valentine’s Dance?” 

The game had ended twenty minutes ago. 

Eastwood had won by 10 points. You’d thought the difference was pretty good but your Mr. Woo, your school’s coach, didn’t seem to share your opinion. He’d claimed that Riverside never even should have been able to get within 15 points of Eastwood.

He’d been especially tense in the second half of the third quarter when the opposition had begun scoring back to back baskets. It had all worked out in the end nonetheless, all thanks to Yang Jungwon, the MVP of the match. 

You still couldn’t believe he’d asked you out and you refused to believe he’d done it in such a grand way. 

He was the definition of a jock and goofed around in school all day long. He was charming, sure, but you’d never known he was capable of pulling off something this big. 

You’d never even suspected he was a romantic. 

Your phone dinged and you unlocked it to check who was texting you. 

[eunchae]: wya? 

[y/n]: parking lot!! are u here? i’m leaning against my car

[eunchae]: noo i’m home :( btw are u still waiting for him?? 

[y/n]: yeah he asked me to but the team hasn’t come out of the gym yet

[eunchae]: yikes i heard mr. woo was hella mad we only won by 10 points.. maybe he’s yelling at the players right now

[y/n]: i’m p sure he is LMFAO

Your fingers hovered over your phone’s screen as you waited for Eunchae to type her reply. However, before she could send it, you felt the device being grabbed from your hand. 

“What the—” you started, but relaxed when you saw Jungwon standing in front of you with an amused expression on his face. “Yang.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Someone could have easily kidnapped you, you know?” 

“We live in the most boring part of the town.” You snorted. “Baek Seung threatening to chop his neighbour’s tree on local TV was the most interesting thing that happened this year.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be on your guard,” Jungwon said and moved next to you, leaning against the side of your car as well. He was wearing black sweats and a red hoodie. He smelt of cheap soap and his hair was damp, making you realise that he had probably showered. “Besides, Baek Sung actually followed through. We have a real criminal in our ranks.” 

“Didn’t you literally let five sheep loose in our middle school three years ago?” 

“That was just a harmless middle school graduating prank.”

“There’s no such thing as a middle school graduating prank.”

“Tell that to the current 8th graders who are planning their prank. I hear they’re going to stuff the hallway outside the principal’s office with helium balloons so she won’t be able to leave.”  

You stared at him, a small smile playing on your lips. Jungwon’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before he looked into your eyes again. 

“Why did you ask me to the dance?” you asked and turned on your side to face him. It was a stupid question but you were genuinely curious. 

Eunchae was right before. Jungwon flirted with you all the time and you always entertained him. You enjoyed the attention he gave you. But if this thing between you was just platonic, and if it was never going to progress into something real, you needed to know now. 

You didn’t want to hope and wait for something that was never going to happen. 

“Sunoo said I was an idiot for not shooting my shot with you,” he replied and turned on his side too. “He threatened to make a move on you if I didn’t get my shit together before Valentine’s Day.” 

You snorted. 

“Oh, also,” Jungwon added. “I really, really like you.” 

You felt a tidal wave of emotions override your senses. Euphoria, nervousness, breathlessness, giddiness, uncertainty and this inexplicable urge to squeal washed over you. 

Your heart went haywire inside your chest when Jungwon leaned closer to you and dipped his head so that his face was right in front of yours. 

“You’re blushing,” he whispered. 

You squeaked and buried your face in your hands. He grabbed your wrists and gently moved them out of the way. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I think that would be a health hazard,” you croaked, looking at anywhere but him. “My heart is beating concerningly fast right now. What if I drop dead?” 

“I can do CPR.” 

The corner of your mouth quirked up in a small smile. Your heart beat slowed down and you began feeling at ease. You wondered if Jungwon could tell that this was the first time someone had confessed to you. 

The entire concept of dating and being in a relationship was foreign to you. You doubted Jungwon had much experience in the field himself since he’d only had one girlfriend in kindergarten, but he seemed confident. 

You trusted him to take over the wheel and guide you through the strange waters of love. 

“Okay,” you breathed and closed your eyes. “Kiss me.” 

His hands cupped your cheeks, his soft lips brushing against yours. You sucked in a breath and just stood there, not really knowing what to do. 

Your hands itched to grab onto something, so you shifted closer to Jungwon and clutched the front of his hoodie in your fists. 

He smiled against your mouth as you rose on your toes and tilted your head to the side. 

But then you realised something and hastily broke the kiss. Jungwon stared at you in confusion, but before he could ask what was wrong, you blurted, “I like you too.” 

There was a pause. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so you clarified, “I thought I should make that clear. I mean, you confessed but I didn’t confess back even though I feel the same way and what if you thought I wasn’t into you. I am into you, by the way. I’ve been crushing on you since forever but I never knew how to say it—” 

Jungwon swooped in for a second kiss and you melted in his arms. You could get used to the feeling of his lips on yours. They fit together perfectly.  

“You are so cute.” He giggled after detaching his mouth from yours. Resting his forehead against yours, he continued, “Eunchae told me last week. She urged me to confess because she knew your stubbornness would never allow you to make the move.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, jerking away from him. “Where’s my phone? Give me my damn phone, Yang!” 

He grabbed arms before you could lunge at him and search him for your device. “Relax!”

“I’m going to kill her!” 

“Why?!” 

“Because—” you sputtered, struggling to get out of his grip— “because it’s embarrassing! I was pretending to not like you but you knew I was crushing on you the entire time!” 

“It’s not embarrassing!” Jungwon said. “It’s normal—Y/N stop!” 

You let your body fall limp in his arms. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“You’re seriously not going to let Eunchae’s nosiness stop us from having our first date, are you?”  

“What?” you asked and moved out of his grip.

He shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “It’s nothing special. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for some food.” 

“Oh,” you replied blankly. “Don’t you have a celebratory dinner with your team though?” 

“I can ditch them.”  

“You shouldn’t.” 

“Let me correct myself: I already ditched them. I want to spend tonight and celebrate with you.” 

Your heart swelled with happiness. “Really?” When was the last time someone outside of your parents prioritised you? You genuinely couldn’t remember. 

“Of course. Do you wanna get some McDonald’s?”

You nodded, but before he could make his way to the passenger’s seat of your car, you said, “Just so you know, I feel the luckiest when I’m with you too.” 

Yang Jungwon kissed you for the third time, and by no means was it the last, or even close to the last one you shared that day.  

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

TAGLIST (cont’d in reblogs): @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @kamcrazy123 @wclverine

[hysteria-things]

SNEAK AWAY (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and nate are still going strong, but a lot of fans notice a few things in the new video…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 539

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: short and sweet!

chris fic tomorrow😌 (or tonight it depends when i start writing it)

y/nsturniolo

liked by madifilipowicz and 23,492 others

y/nsturniolo hawaii dump with my favorite people ever😌🌺☀️🏝️🩷

4,940 comments

nicolassturniolo yup yup yup

user you’re so pretty

�� y/nsturniolo i love you🥹

↳ user HOLY SHIT HI QUEEN

nathandoe8 hey (with rizz)

↳ matthew.sturniolo what the hell

↳ user YIKES LMAOOO

↳ user praying for you nate🙏

madifilipowicz 🎉💕🌊

user what’s with all the nate pics🤨

↳ y/nsturniolo idk :/

user why do i ship her and nate🫣

↳ user THIS

↳ christophersturniolo no lol

“boys, please leave your sister alone.“ you hear your mother scold from outside of the bedroom door.

you guys got back from hawaii two days ago, but the triplets are staying in boston for an extra week before going back to LA.

“do not barge in there—” she scolds again, but it’s too late when the door swings open.

the three of them stand there panting, while marylou looks at them with her hands on her hips. it doesn’t end there; trevor comes running in and jumps on your bed.

his tail wags as he climbs onto your lap, leaving kisses on your face.

nick turns to her. “she’ll survive, mom.”

she sighs, walking out of your vision. your brothers stare at you like you’re in trouble. “we need to talk.” chris says, crossing his arms.

oh boy.

“about?”

they side eye each other. “you and nate.” matt says.

oh boy.

you clear your throat, trying not to barf everywhere. “w-what do you mean?”

“have you not seen the clips or comments?” chris asks, them now walking over to your bed and sitting. at this point, trevor has fallen asleep on your legs.

“no,” you answer, playing with the dog’s ears.

“girl.” nick tuts, pulling out his phone and tapping buttons before turning it to you. “look at this.”

you take his phone, scrolling through the comments on a tiktok.

thank GOD i’m not the only one who thought this

they HAVE to be hiding something they seem a little too close in this video😭

damn y’all detectives or something💀

imagine this is how nick, matt, and chris find out LMAOOOO

i always shipped them they seem so cute together :(

you stop scrolling the comments and watch the video. it’s a compilation of you and nate in the background.

one of the clips is when you guys were in the restaurant, and your chin rests on nate’s shoulder as the both of you look over something on his phone.

another clip is when you guys are walking, you and nate in the back of the group with his hand brushing against yours.

a few others show the way you two look at each other, eyes full of love and lust.

maybe you guys weren’t being as slick as you thought.

you hand nick’s phone back, nuzzling more into your blanket. “why didn’t you tell us?!” chris exclaims.

you shrug. “‘cause you’ll kill him.”

they roll their eyes. “we won’t kill him. we’ll threaten him.” nick clarifies.

as if that’s any better.

walking hand in hand, you and nate make way through the local park that's bare at this hour of the night. “so you’re telling me i should look out for threats?”

“yeah.” you smile, looking up at him before he gives you a sneak-attack kiss.

he sighs. “i’m kind of glad we don’t need to sneak away anymore. it got so depressing.”

you laugh, followed by an exhale. words cannot explain how much you love this kid. even though it was a hard launch to the public, you’re happy that you can show him off now. to make sure people know he’s yours and you’re his.

hopefully, no threats or killings take place by your overprotective siblings.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1

[newtkive]

shift shenanigans - social media au (pt. 2)

note: yes there’s the main work chat w carmy, the secret coworker chat w/o carmy, and the secret secret bestie chat w syd, marcus, and yourself. it would be canon.

warnings: crude humor, slightly offensive jokes

part one

liked by carmyberzatto, marcus.brooks11 and 40 others

chefboyardee: life lately

see all 9 comments

syd_adamu: that pho was life changing

↳ chefboyardee: i think it was the best i’ve ever had

marcus.brooks11: feet off the table @syd_adamu

↳ chefboyardee: leave my girl alone

↳ richietheking: I knew you guys were lez

↳ syd_adamu: we aren’t and you can’t say that

↳ chefboyardee: oh.. we aren’t? ☹️😔

↳ syd_adamu: 😑

carmyberzatto: 🍲🔥

THE GOLDEN TRIO

[ 7:45 AM ]

y/n: did you see

did you see

did

you

see

ogmgokggkowkfofsk

syd: pardon??

what did richie do oh my god

did he post another picture of him with the gun from that one day

fuckkkk carmys gonna be so mad

marcus: nope i wish

y/n: he commented on my post 😭😭😭😭

syd: who

marcus: think about it

who else would cause this reaction

y/n: carmy!!!!!!!

i woke up to him commenting 🍲🔥 😍😍😍😍

syd: woah and the heart eyes?

y/n: no that’s my addition

syd: the bar is in hell

HES YOUR BOSS

y/n: AND I WANT HIS BABIES??

marcus: y’all so hype to be pregnant THEN BOOOMMM ‼️ THE BABY’S UGLY AND BALD WITH ECZEMA 😩🤨

syd: LMFAOOOOO WHOS YALL THO????

y/n: bye im done

im leaving for work.

don’t talk to me ever again

done.

marcus: bye 👋

why do you leave so early fool

syd: so she can be teachers pet

marcus: smh always there before everyone

y/n: not true.

syd: i thought you weren’t talking to us

y/n: 😒

marcus: want me to bring y’all an iced latte again

y/n: …. 😁

WORK

[ 8:15 AM ]

y/n: AYOOOO

great job cleaning up after work yesterday 😊👍

richie: Is this a joke?

y/n: why would i joke about such a thing

carmy: Y/n what are you doing

y/n: u said to tell everyone their housekeeping is shitty

carmy: No I said I was going to tell them that, and you said no I’ll do it

This is not what I meant

y/n: well you yell too much

marcus: ouch

that’s my station 😔

carmy: Well clean it better

y/n: im using reverse psychology and positive reinforcement

carmy: Not what that means

y/n: well notice how no one’s mad at me

im making alliances day by day

richie: You’ve worked here for two years and we are already friends

y/n: so you’re saying you aren’t my ally

richie: No

We are definitley in an alliance

y/n: love u richie

richie: Don’t go that far

chefboyardee’s instagram stories

WE HAVE THE BEEF 🥩

[ 3:25 PM ]

y/n:

he so fine im bouta cermmmmm

syd: …..

marcus: :O

y/n: why are you acting shocked

like i haven’t said this daily

tina: Woah girl who?

y/n: HUH

richie: I’m not in the picture I don’t get it

syd: let’s just keep working before carmy notices

tina: I don’t care I’m on smoke break. Who are you talking about girl? Spill the tea..

marcus: she was talking about me you guys

y/n: the guy in the back

oh i mean yeah marcus

tina: The meat delivery guy? He has a wife..

y/n: we are having an affair

marcus: no it’s about me

richie: I didn’t know Marcus and Y/n were a thing..

tina: Something ain’t right. No way they are.

marcus: we aren’t it’s just our sense of humor

y/n: i was just being funny!

tina: What did Jeff just yell inside?

syd: came out of the office and said “just cuz we’re slow doesn’t mean you can play on your phones” 👍💯

tina: Whatever. No chance Y/n meant Marcus. You got the hots for Jeffrey?

y/n: what no

tina: Well I wouldn’t blame you. He’s cute

y/n: OMG RIGHTTTTTTT

its the tattoos isn’t it

richie: You have to be fucking joking

tina: I was playing..

y/n: im confused

syd: that was cruel

marcus: who cares it’s not a big deal

y/n: so you don’t think he’s cute tina?? ☹️☹️

tina: No he is cute… for you 😝

y/n: this is humiliating

richie: I’ll tell him

y/n: NO

stop

sSTOP THATS NOT FUNNY

richie im not joking i’ll put a bomb in your floorboards

richie: I’m just fucking with you kid

tina: This isn’t over.

THE GOLDEN TRIO:

[ 3:40 PM ]

syd: y/n….

marcus: you look like a ghost y/n

y/n: i cannot believe i sent that to the wrong gc

i’m done im so done

marcus: stop looking so sad it’s making me feel bad

syd: it’s okay! just be thankful it wasn’t to the work groupchat with him in it..

marcus: true it could be worse

y/n: i guess so

thank you for trying to cover for me marcus

marcus: anytime you know i got you

syd: let’s get back to work before we start looking obvious

[morphids]

well, two can play that game (pt.2), abby anderson

part one here!

pairing: basketball player!abby anderson x afab! reader (college au)

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!!!! poc friendly!! r has curly hair, past hurt/comfort, past relationships, petnames used in place of actual name, bff!dina x r, very abby focused chapter, abby is incredibly sweet n patient until she fucks u… ellie and abby are sort of archenemies, a lil ellie slander, abby talks u thru it, r gets strapped down in a car 🫣, pussydrunk ramblings, praise, abby calls the strap her cock sorry 😮‍💨

summary: part 2: after ellie left you at the party, you find comfort in the arms of another. perhaps it’s better this way?

wc: 5k (not proofread im sorry y’all my eyes hurt)

2 posts in less than a month?? who am i?? anyway the abby brainrot is rife recently im sorry if its ass.

AS ALWAYS FUCK DRUCKMANN AND ALL ZIONISTS, resources for Palestine and the daily click linked on my pinned post!

—

You were left in the empty bathroom, alone and very pissed off. She ignores you for months, then does this? No, you were more than pissed. You fixed your makeup, more like wiped it all off, and readjusted your clothes, trying to somewhat freshen yourself up before facing the world outside. Your legs still slightly shaking as you thought back to your previous interaction with Ellie. How dare she? She's the one who left. You shuddered, a horrible feeling ripping itself up in your chest, you felt used.

You shook your head, taking one final glance at the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You really only had one mission, get the fuck out of here and go home. Not bothering to say goodbye to your friends, you'd send a text explanation to Dina, surely she'd understand. You just couldn't be here right now, after that. Your legs carried you down the stairs, tunnel vision towards the front door at the end. You frowned, feeling bad that you'd be leaving Dina's on her birthday so you glanced back trying to find her within the crowd. Upon looking, you spotted her and Jesse... and Ellie. She didn't leave? You panicked, instantly looking away, not wanting -Ellie- anyone to see you as you opened the door and strode a few steps in front the road.

Grabbing a single cigarette from your pack and lighting it, you reached for your phone and quickly typed out a message to Dina. As your shaking hands were drafting a whole essay about what had happened, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, so gentle it almost indicated that they were trying not to alarm you. Despite their efforts, you were a jumpy person so you swiftly reacted and turned to look at who was trying to get your attention.

"Hey, you alright?" The person revealed themselves as the one you had been enjoying speaking to before the night had been ruined.

"Oh, Abby," You were slightly shocked, admittedly. The little stunt that Ellie pulled must've given you some form of brain damage because Abby had ultimately left your thoughts, "Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled at her, at least what you thought was a smile, it must've looked more like an odd grimace because Abby then spoke,

"You sure, you look a bit... shaken." Her words were hesitant, eyes studying you, you must've looked as bad as you felt.

"Sorry, yeah, just..." you paused, "Need to get out of here." You took another drag, your cigarette almost at its end.

"Do you have a ride home?" She asked, those maldito crystal blue eyes furrowed with worry, she was not about to leave a distressed girl on the side of the street alone at night, Abby thought.

"I'll just book a taxi," you explained, not wanting to burden the poor woman. She didn't deserve to be brought into this mess. The plan of the night was for you to stay at Dina's, knowing that you were a bit broke currently, but that was no longer an option for you, especially if Ellie was planning on lingering around.

"I can drive you home, if you'd like." Abby stated, her firm hand resting on top of your shoulder, noticing you shake from the cold weather of the night. "I haven't drank all night, if that makes you feel better?" She firmed, the corner of her lips stretching out into a slight smile with hopes of helping you perk up a little. It was working.

"I don't want to trouble yo-"

"If you truly don't want to, that's okay," she reassured, "But if you're just saying that not to be a burden on me, that's silly. You look stressed, I'd like to help."

Her catching you out made you chuckle, you were once again, reminded that you had been having great conversations with her before that interruption. You let out a sigh,

"Okay, you got me, I'd really appreciate a ride." That caused her smile to grow, as she looked down at you, straightening herself up before grabbing her keys from her pocket.

"Perfect, let's go."

--

The car was slightly frosted over, a cool air flowing through the vehicle as Abby handled the steering wheel with the utmost confidence.

"Thank you,"

"You don't need to say thank you, glad to help," Abby spoke.

A few silent moments passed, questions noticeably waiting to be asked,

"So, what happened back there?"

You stilled, an air of shame washing over you,

"Um," You were slightly embarrassed, after all you were flirting with Abby at the party just seconds before the whole ordeal with Ellie, you didn't want her to think a certain way about you. Especially since she was so kindly driving you home.

"Something happened with my ex," You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet.

"Doesn't sound too good," She responded, eyes darting to glance at you before focusing back on the road. You didn't live that far from Dina's, you were probably due to arrive soon.

"That's an understatement," You paused, "I just don't understand women."

Abby let out a quick laugh,

"You and me both,"

"I mean, she ghosts me, then shows up with one of her new conquests and then fucks me in the bathroom because she saw me talking to you and leaves?" You blurted out, clearly needing to vent about it, you suddenly remembered you never ended up actually sending that text to Dina.

"Oh," Abby paused, clearly not expecting that, she recovered and quickly added, "That's awful, I'm sorry." You studied her a little, looking for any signs that she was disgusted or put off, there didn't seem to be any.

"Don't be, Ellie's not exactly the picture of healthy relationships."

"Wait, Ellie? Williams?"

"Yeah?"

"Damn, hasn't changed, has she?"

"What do you mean?" You pressed, recognising the familiar turns of your street, you mentally swore, of course it starts getting juicy just as you begin to reach home.

"Just... had an issue with her a while back, after one of our basketball games,"

Abby's car slowed to a stall, the lack of momentum had emphasised the hum of the engine and the repetitive blinks of the indicator.

Abby turned now to look at you, turning off the engine, her right arm resting on the steering wheel, your eyes couldn't help but glaze your attention on the curves of her muscles, you looked away before she caught you staring.

"Honestly, it was so long ago, but she kinda got involved with two girls on the team," You silently gaped at her, wordlessly allowing her to continue, this was news to you - did Dina know any of this?

"Basically, neither of them knew about it until Ellie got caught making out with someone else during that party after the game. We all kinda lost our shit with her and I think there was punches thrown? Kicked a lot of shit off between the team and kinda ruined the flow of our games for a while, we're all over it now but..."

"Oh," Was all you could say, you really dated Ellie not knowing anything about this. Has she always been the type of person to jump from ship to ship? You shuddered at the thought that you were just another addition to a rather extensive list.

"Sorry, I thought you would've known about it," Abby sympathised,

"No, it's not your fault." You sighed, at least now you knew the kind of person you were actually dealing with. It fuelled your anger, especially with how she behaved earlier.

A still second passed inside the car, the indicator still blinking and you suddenly felt all the more embarrassed.

"Well, sorry about all this, thank you for the ride home. I do appreciate it," You unclipped your seatbelt, turning your body slightly to grab the handle and make your exit.

"You gonna be alright?" Abby questioned, her blue eyes looking up at you, there was an unreadable expression within them, not pity but something else.

"I think? Probably just gonna rot for the next few hours," You paused, turning to face her fully. You were still on edge from before, and with this new information you didn't feel like being alone. You shouldn't do this, you shouldn't do it at all. She's probably so tired of your shit already. Yet the words forced themselves out faster than you could do anything to stop them,

"You don't have to, but would you like to come in? I could make you a hot drink or something as thanks?"

The corners of her lips turned upwards,

"I'd love to,"

—

You had brewed two mugs of hot chocolate, turning away from the counter to face the tall blonde that now sat in your living room.

"Thanks," she smiled as she took the hot cup from your grasp. Joining her on the couch, you hesitated - what now?

Do you pop a movie on? Do you play music? Your brain was begin to work overtime as you suddenly felt awkward.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," you say, finally adjusting to get comfortable on the pillows.

"You were staring at your drink for a while, there." She chuckled, blowing on the hot drink before taking a sip whilst maintaining eye contact with you.

"Got lost in the sauce again," You joked, not wanting to speak about Ellie any longer.

"Happens often?" She teased, one corner of her lips quipped up slightly.

"More than I'd like to admit,"

"Thanks again, for the ride."

"You don't have to keep saying thank you, angel, it wasn't even a ten minute drive." She explained, you felt more at ease. Abby truly was something else, she had this comforting air around her where you just felt safe and understood.

"Still, you didn't have to,"

"Darling, I'm gonna need you to stop saying thank you for basic human decency," She insisted, her tone firm but gentle, her eyebrows moved in a way you could only read as 'you know?'.

"You don't owe me anything, alright? I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." Abby proclaimed, her voice lowering, becoming shy, almost. "If it helps, I'm glad Dina introduced us."

You felt a tug in your chest as you processed her words. You met her eyes, a warm feeling washed over you, uh oh.

"I'm glad she introduced us, too."

She seemed satisfied with that, a smile coating her lips as she turned her attention back away to her drink.

You decided to get yourself off the couch, Abby's light eyes following your trail, still encompassing the almost finished mug with her hands. You bent down, on your knees in front of her, Abby was suddenly glad your back was facing her, as her eyes would've certainly made you privy to where her gaze had landed.

You reached underneath your coffee table, aimlessly throwing your hand underneath it into the separate compartments. Abby was mentally cursing herself for looking, yet your shirt had ridden up slightly, the bend of the dimpled bottom of your back leading to the perfect curve of your ass— Abby looked away, she didn't want to think thoughts like that about you, not under these circumstances, at least. Stop being such a lesbian, Abby- She thought.

Truth is, Abby really liked talking to you at Dina's party. She was enthralled as soon as Dina brought you over to her, your thick curls perfectly framing your face, she thought back to when you told her your name, the way your velvety lips moved with the words and the way your eyes sparkled as you took in her frame.

She quickly discovered you were easy to talk to and there was clearly mutual attraction there, but she didn't want to pressure you into anything, especially since Abby figured Ellie had done enough damage for one night. Abby thought to what you said, how all of that happened because Ellie saw you talking with her, it angered her, you deserved so much better than that, but it also gave her an odd feeling of subtle pride. Ellie felt jealous over her? Well, then she should've acted right, Abby thought, thoughts interrupted by your voice.

"Ah!" You breathed out, finally grabbing what you were looking for. With your free hand, you pulled the hem of your shirt back down a bit, turning to Abby who was busy downing the rest of her drink to avoid looking at you.

She propped the mug on the table, before muttering,

"Jenga?" A chuckle escaped her, a warm feeling grew in her chest as she saw the impish look on your face,

"Come on, it's old but it's a classic— and, it has questions on them, what do you say?" Abby took in your features, eyes glinting with excitement and lips curved into an expectant smile. Her breathing sped up, air suddenly trapped.

"How can I say no to that?"

—

"I give it a week." Dina exclaimed, an isolated smirk on her face, you had just told her about your night with Abby after her party. You had ended up just playing silly board games and talking most of the night, to Dina's discontent apparently as a she was currently placing bets on when you and Abby will undoubtedly sleep together, her words.

"Dina!"

"Come on, you're lesbians. It's the prophecy."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at her as you secured your earrings on.

You glanced over at yourself on the full length mirror in Dina's bedroom, unsure.

"You look hot, don't worry," she smiled, "Lowers my bets to less than three days." Dina finished with a wink, walking with you to the entrance of the house.

Her confidence only seemed to make you more nervous, Abby had invited you to a party with her teammates, you would've dragged Dina with you but lucky for you, she had already made plans with Ellie.

Ellie. Even mentally, her name was thought of with disdain. You hadn't seen her since that night, nor did you want to. Right now, your focus was on Abby, and you didn't want to let her have enough power to sour your entire night.

Your phone buzzed, a message from Abby saying she was parked outside,

"She here?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright, well good luck~" She gushed, almost pushing you out the door. Dina felt content, knowing that she was helping you get over Ellie, even a little. She loved you both, but she couldn't sit back and watch that particular fire burn itself out.

You stepped out of Dina's place, making your way over to the only car outside you recognised, where Abby was standing in between the driver's seat and the car door. God, she looked good.

Abby glanced up from her phone before smiling widely at you.

"Hey, pretty, you ready?" Her voice was so soft, you found yourself hanging on every syllable she uttered. You tried to control your facial response to her words, even though, you are almost certain that she knows exactly how you feel about her. She seemed to get this impish expression in her eyes. Mirth.

You wonder if she feels the same thing.

"Born ready." You smile back up at her, Abby opens the passenger door for you and waits until you're fully settled into the seat before shutting the door, making her way around to her side and joining you.

Clicking her seatbelt into place and switching on the ignition, her larger hand finds its way on to the top of your thigh, fingers spaced out confidently as her thumb strokes your skin over your jeans.

You fight the urge to adjust your body, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is reacting to such a simple act.

"Let's go then,"

—

Abby stops by her house before the party, had to grab something apparently.

She parked her car inside the blocky carpark for her apartment building, managing to find a space somewhere in this car maze. Turning the ignition off, she moved her hand off your thigh, not before turning her gaze towards you.

It looks like she has something to say, yet no words escape her.

You take the opportunity to look at her, her features, your eyes trailing down her face to her plump lips.

"You're beautiful, you know." You say to her, you feel yourself enter some sort of daze. No other thoughts, all you can think and inhale is Abby. Your mind completely clouded and the only clarity being her.

You see a flash of red cross her cheeks, though she quickly steeled her expression, the left corner of her lips tilting up as her eyes landed on your own lips.

Abby clicks off her seatbelt, her hands coming back to return to their comfortable spot on your thighs, slightly wrapping her fingers around the outside of them as she lightly grabs you a little closer to her.

Your faces are inches apart now, you glance down at her lips, clicking off your own seatbelt before placing yourself on her lap in the driver's seat. You connect your lips with hers as your hands meet the back of her neck.

Abby quickly responds and returns the kiss, tightening her grip on your thighs, her other hand running up your side, softly making contact with your back.

You slowly wind your hips across hers, dragging yourself up using the force of your legs which are spread over her lap.

Her mouth opens slightly as you start making out. Tongue softly brushing over her bottom lip before you gently bite and pull her skin down, causing a moan to escape her lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're going to make me do something stupid." Her voice low, warm with honey.

Her hands crawl back down to the top of your jeans, underneath the fabric to meet the back of your ass, kneading your skin with a strong grip, groaning as she was actually touching you after cursing herself out for even glancing at your exposed back the other night. A part of her was relieved that you wanted this just as bad as she did.

"Like what?" You tease, placing gentle kisses on her neck, alternating different amounts of pressure as you kissed up to behind her ear.

"Like fuck you in my car." You shuddered.

"Maybe that's what I'm after," You drag your hips across hers again, meeting her lips once more in an ardent kiss.

"Careful," She whispered, fingers tightening around the ample skin of your cheeks, pecking your lips lightly, "Don't do anything you'd regret."

You chuckled, "Baby if I regret anything, it wouldn't be you." Looking at her through your lashes, eyes doe and wanting, lips plump and swollen, Abby found it harder to be a voice of reason, especially when the very picture of enticement was sat pretty on her lap, uttering words that were ever so sweet and inviting. Her resolve was dropping, made obvious by the way her chest raised and sank with each breath, her pupils blowing out the blue of her eyes slightly. She decided, then, that you were going to be the death of her.

Your lips met again, the pacing quickened this time, "Well, in that case," she muttered, taking advantage of the way her hands were already cupping your ass to slowly drive your hips over her thigh. Abby inched her head into the curve of your neck as she left feathery pecks on the supple skin, lifting her knee an inch higher to graze your centre, the tips of her eyebrows lifting as she spoke, “Can I?”

Needing to take a deep breath to calm your speeding heart rate, thinking if she really needed to ask at this point when you were so clearly turned on right now. “I swear, I’ll die right now, if you don’t,” You managed to let out, trying to rub yourself against her as the pressure building up was getting unbearable. Abby breathed out a soft laugh, resuming her attack on your neck and up to your earlobe, you almost cried from the sensitivity that eagerness had cursed you with, you were thankful that night had fallen, the darkened shadows of the late hours hiding your depraved salacity.

Tongue grazing the skin underneath your ear, Abby shuffled a little in her seat, exposing something solid underneath your leg, concealed under her jeans, your eyebrows furrowed and eyelids jolted open, had that been there this whole time? The newly discovered information had your mind reeling, obscene thoughts reigning your head as you realised she must’ve been walking around with that thing. You wondered if she always walked around with that thing. The thought was too much, your core became increasingly warmer and damp, throbbing as she kneaded you over the plastic extension of herself.

“Fuck,” you gasped, mewling at the rigidity of her strap through your clothes, rubbing up against you. You couldn’t hold your tongue, “You always keep that on you?” voice breathy as her hands met the skin of your torso underneath your shirt, your stomach tensing as the skin rippled with shivers from her touch. Not even letting her answer your question, you spoke again, voice wavering, “We’re gonna be late to meet your friends,”

“Honestly, pretty girl, I couldn’t give a damn about that right now,” Abby’s voice deepened, coated with a thick wave of carnality. Her wandering hands gently lifted your top, exposing your breasts to her as she placed her tongue over the hardened peaks, before speaking again, “Not when you’re in front of me looking like that,” Her demeanour was composed, trying to mask her ardour and the slight tremble in her hands that she prayed you didn’t notice, but she, too, felt the innate fervency that was electrifying the air. She looked you over, shirt lifted, mouth agape, body gleaming in the scarce light from the windows, twitching with anticipation. Your eyes watching hers, cheeks warming under her heavy gaze. You were absolutely delightful, and she couldn’t hold herself back from indulging, nor did she want to.

Her hands finally reached the waistband of your jeans, fingers twining around the belt loops as she pulled them down to your knees, allowing you to rushingly pull off the remaining fabric that clung to your legs, carelessly shoving them down somewhere to the bottom of the car floor. The remaining baggy shirt draping over your thighs. It was a sight for sore eyes, Abby thought. You unzipped her pants, eagerly pulling out her strap that she had been walking around with. You looked up at her, a hint of a smirk on your lips, Abby placed one hand at the base, angling the tip against your covered slit, watching as your slick seeped further over your lace underwear, leaving a distinctive translucent mark of your arousal. You moaned, eyes shutting as you bent your head down against her clavicle, hiding yourself from the embarrassment you felt at being so exposed in your desire for her. She wasn’t even in, yet, for fuck’s sake, and you were already weak.

“Don’t hide, baby,” She uttered, voice quiet and sweet as she bit back her own moans at the sight. Abby slipped the tip under the hem of your panties, the stiff cap of her strap rolling over your folds, spreading your slick up to your clit, in full sight as the thin, wet fabric of your underwear clung to her shape, exposing the sinful silhouette of her strap under your panties, “Wanna look at you.”

Abby smirked as she felt how little friction it took for her strap to slide up against your folds, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,” Her voice tense, groaning as she watched her own movements, teeth grabbing the bottom of her own lip as the tip became covered in slick, hidden beneath the fabric, “All wet and ready, could just slide right in,”

“Abby, p-please, can’t take it,” You whimpered, the pressure against your clit was stirring you towards insanity, but it wasn’t enough, not when she was teasing you with the damn thing, not when she was so, so close. You couldn’t take her relentless teasing any longer, spurred and waiting as you could only sit there as she decided to mess with you, you thought you’d come right there and then.

“Please what, baby?” She smirked, the edge of her lip tilting up as she watched you lose more and more of your patience, hips jutting towards her as a means to feel more of her. Lips meeting the edge of your jaw as she left the softest kisses on your skin, pausing to look over at you, the way your expressions morphed into desperation and eyebrows pinched together, just waiting for her to move properly. “Please, just p-put it inside, need to feel you inside, Abby-please” The desperation in your voice pulled at her, her own heat throbbing as she admired you, thankful that someone up there had blessed her with this sight tonight. Whichever lesbian gods resided up there to gift her such a vision. The sight of you falling apart and begging for her made her lose all the remaining composure she tried so hard to cling on to, as she slid up into your walls, you welcoming her as she slipped right in. You were so wet that she could hear the perverted sounds of your pussy sucking her in, your hands clawed at the back of her neck, head against her collarbone as you bit into her shoulder, grasping on to any remaining dregs of stability you could find. Your hips began to roll against hers on their own, seeking their own path.

“There, that’s it, baby. See, how you can take it,” Her words were anything but innocent, yet the saccharine tone of her voice was pulling you further into your climax, like a siren dragging you into deepwater, you were rendered wordless at this point, having been so turned on for so long must’ve melted your brain to mush, so you could only lean against her and ride her out. Could only sit there and take it, “You’re such a good girl for me, baby, that’s it,”

“You feel.. s-so fucking good, Abby,” Your babbles seemed to exacerbate Abby’s movements, lack of coherent words spurring her on as the harder thrusts hit the back of your cervix, drawing out the loudest sound you’ve ever heard be forced out from between your lips, you lifted your head to look at her, she looked just as ruined as you. Her eyes fixed on where you and her strap connected, folds gripping her each time she pulled out, “Fuck, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well, like you were born for my cock,” Her words were now blatantly sinful, Abby’s head just as mushed as yours felt as she rambled, drunk on feeling as if the strap truly was attached to her. She was usually such a gentlewoman, patient and respectful, but now? In this moment you saw another side to her, one that was so carnal in her desire and knew exactly what to say to make you see double. “I can almost feel you clenching around me,”

“Fuck-mm, Abby, I’m so close,” Her strap was splitting, your eyes shut as the repeated hits against your walls reverberated through your system, you bounced your hips against hers, sucking her further in. The insides of your thighs were drenched, your slick having dripped down all over her strap as she moved. You felt your brain almost explode when Abby’s fingers met with your clit, rubbing against the bud as her other hand reached up to grasp your jaw, with a little pressure, just enough for your plump lips to jut out slightly as she reconnected your lips. Her name sounded so sweet on your tongue, the familiar swell of pride returned, proud that it was her name you were currently moaning out, hers and hers alone. She wondered if Ellie ever made you like this, or if it was reserved just for her.

You could die happy, you thought, if this was the last humanly pleasure you felt. Her tongue moved against yours, before biting your bottom lip, you couldn’t focus on anything but her, the way she was making you feel. Your vision becoming slightly blurred as the pressure in your lower stomach built up, tightening as you felt it increase and increase as her fingers played with the bundle of nerves paired with the repeated beats of her pressing herself into you. Her hand loosened its grip on your jaw, she reached to the hem of your shirt, lifting it to reveal your breasts, nipples stiff as the movement of your bodies made your breasts spring up and down, the skin of your ass recoiled as gravity worked its magic, Abby was entranced, mesmerised as she watched you glow closer. Your hands grabbed at her, running down from her neck to reach her well-built biceps, nails digging into the buff muscles, drawing tiny red marks which contrasted against her skin. Playing basketball must really keep her busy.

Abby was no fool, she had clocked you staring at them enough, she let out a grunt as she felt the sharp sting on your nails. The act prompted her, losing the grip over her mouth as she was incited to new levels. “Like my arms, sugar?”

“Abby..” you mewled, pushing your face into her neck in the embarrassment that you had been clocked, “They’re just so big,”

Abby chuckled, “I’ll show you what they’re capable of soon enough,” Her words went straight to your core, making you clench tightly around her.

“For now, I want you to come all over my cock, sweetheart,” She grabbed at the skin of your breasts, kneading her large hands over them, pulling and tweaking your nipples as your body fell into her, lips open as the overstimulation hit its peak, eliciting a final drawl from you as your body shook against her. “Fuck… there you go, baby,” she dragged your orgasm out, still pushing her cock into you as you rode it out, “Fuck.. fucking orgasm lasted so long,” you sighed into her neck, mumbling voice wobbled as your legs twitched against her, spilling your cum all over her strap as it leaked out of you. She slowed her thrusts, keeping herself inside you until you were done. Your sensitive walls still reacting to her.

You felt completely worn out as she finally slipped out of you, you shyly lifted your head to make contact with her gaze, her eyes warm and gleaming as she attempted to hold back a smile, “That was..” You could hardly finish your sentence, placing a soft kiss against her lips as she grabbed your neck, holding your head up and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin of your jaw. “Wow.”

“Speechless, huh?” She couldn’t contain herself, an air of cockiness in her demeanour, her mind wandered to what this meant for you both now.

“If you think we’re still going, I have bad news,” You muttered, still in a daze as a wave of sleepiness hit you,

“Sweetheart, we’re not going anywhere but upstairs to my apartment,” You smiled at her, this was exciting. You felt comforted with her, “Don’t think I’m not returning the favour, by the way,” Abby laughed, nodding as she kissed your neck.

“Shit, I owe Dina 20 bucks,”

“Wait, what?”

—

like, comment or reblog to your hearts desire if ya enjoyed :p

[forbebeandjam]

Pervert Bada please. Like she has very low morals and she’s horny as hell.

Wants or Needs | Bada Lee x Reader | +21

Summary: as a married woman, you try to keep away from that dangerous woman but why hold back, right?

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT! Fingering, cunnilingus, cheating

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED

A/N: I’m a bit rusty on smuts, y’all. Go easy on me plz 🥹 as for the person who requested. I hope you like it!!🫶🫶

You had a happy relationship with your husband of two years. He was sweet and caring but always busy at work or so you thought. You would oftentimes be at home studying and it was boring to you how he never had time for you so you decided to kill time by signing up to a dance studio.

The first few days were great. The teacher was fun and you were able to get better in skills. On your third week, you noticed your regular teacher was not there in time. You started stretching knowing that he was probably late when you saw a woman walk in.

She was stunning and caught your eye with her aura alone. She scanned the room and took off her jacket exposing her toned body. Her crop top was hugging her body just right.

She adjusted her baggy pants and the elastic of her boxers was showing. She tied her hair back and pulled her arm to the side. For a few minutes, you forgot you needed to stretch and your eyes were glued on the woman.

"Alright, everyone! I'm back. I hope you're all warmed up because we are starting a new dance today. Let's go," the woman clapped. You were confused. You looked around to find one of the older classmates.

"Excuse me, who is that?" You asked.

"Oh, right! You're new. This is Bada. Our regular teacher. She's really cool. You'll love her," she said. You nodded and went back to your spot. Suddenly you heard silence and everyone was looking at you.

"Could you move a bit forward? I have never seen you before," Bada said as she was looking at you. You gulped the knot in your throat down.

"Hi. I'm Y/N." You said shyly. She smirked.

The class started and you followed along perfectly with Bada. She couldn't take her eyes off you every time you moved. You felt her eyes on you and you regretted your outfit choices.

Biker shorts, sports bra, and jacket around your waist.

When the class finished, you dried off your sweat and drank some water. Everyone around you left the room and you decided to sit down and take a moment.

"Hi, I'm Bada," the tall woman said as she sat in front of you digging through her bag.

"Hi. How's it going?" You asked.

"Good. Why don't I know you?" She asked making you more nervous.

"I-I joined the class a few weeks ago," you strutted and cursed yourself mentally for it.

"Oh! It doesn't seem like it. You are really good and I love the way you move your body," she said placing a hand on your knee. You gulped and smiled.

"Listen, we are having a little party tomorrow at my house. I want to make you feel welcome to the studio so," she paused and pulled out a small piece of paper from her jacket.

"This is my address and number. If you need anyone to pick you up, just give me a call. Otherwise, I'll see you there," she winked before dragging her hand across your leg, standing up, and walking out the door leaving you dumbfounded.

You shook your dirty thoughts of the woman and stood up. You took your bag and went back home. You looked around, the place looked like a mess.

Two glasses of unfinished wine were on the table and your furrowed your brows. Your husband was supposed to work late and no one else had access to your house.

As you placed your bag down and silently made your way to the room you could hear smacking sounds and loud moans. You covered your mouth with your hand to avoid any noise.

"You look so beautiful," you heard your husband say.

That's where you saw your husband on top of a random girl. You sort of knew that he had someone on the side but you prayed that you were wrong. So you took your bag and silently left the house completely devastated and heartbroken.

You took a cab to the dance studio. There was no way you could drive in the state you were in. When you made it, you paid the driver and went inside the studio.

And you danced. You danced like there was no tomorrow. You made your own dance routine and felt so free. When the music in your phone came to a halt you took a deep breath and smiled.

"That was amazing," you heard a voice say and claps followed. Bada was standing on the door frame looking at you with a wide smile.

"Sorry. I'm not supposed to be here. I'll leave," you said as you bent down to pick up your bag. You felt a sudden grab on your waist and you stood up to look in the mirror.

She was grabbing your hips and she brought your body closer to hers. You could feel her body heat on you and her breath brushed against against your neck. Your body tensed and your face turned a bright shade of red.

"You look hot when you dance," Bada whispered in your ear.

"Bada..." you tried to move but she held your hips tighter. In the heat of the moment, you turned your head to look at her and her lips met yours. You were taken aback but the range of the recent events made you want to kiss her back.

That, and she looked really hot. You were attracted to her like you've never been attracted to anyone before.

The moment her hand made contact with your skin, there was nothing in your mind but her. Bada Lee. Your dance instructor had intoxicated you and you loved it.

The kiss deepened and soon her hands were roaming your body. You let out soft moans and your shirts were now on the floor. She pressed you against the way as her hand moved slowly from your stomach to the elastic of your bottoms.

"Gosh, your so fucking beautiful," Bada said. That moment, the image of your husband fucking some girl in your bed came back to your head. You broke the kiss and tears threatened to fall.

"I... I am married. I can't do this," You said. She pulled you back.

"It doesn't matter. You are here for a reason. You aren't happily married or you'd be with your partner at this ungodly hour of the night," she said as she placed a kiss on your neck driving you insane.

"Bada~ I can't," You grabbed your shirt and bag and ran out of the studio. You went back home where your husband was sleeping peacefully. You scoffed and went to shower. Yes, you were hurt because he cheated but Bada was slowly invading your head.

Her touch, scent, body, and voice made you regret running away from her. How could you be so stupid?

-

The next day, you woke up and looked around. Your husband was getting ready for work. You saw him fixing his tie and then we walked to pick out his cologne. You scoffed and he turned to look at you.

"Good morning, sweetheart. What time did you get back home?" He asked as he sat next to you and kissed your hand.

"Mh... around two or three in the morning. I just had a lot to do at work," you said with a cheery tone.

"Oh yeah, you told me you were gonna work, right? Thats cool. Well, I will also be late today so don't wait up," he said and your fake smile faded.

"Oh... I will work late too, so I will see you tomorrow," you lied. he kissed your forehead and left the room.

You started your day. After getting ready and running some errands, you started to pack your clothes in luggage. You wanted to get away from him.

Time went by fast and now it was time. Time to go to dance class and face Bada. The woman that had now intoxicated your brain. She was everywhere you went. You saw her in everything.

So you made your way to the studio. You walked into the class and there she was leaning against the mirror staring at the doorway and now at you.

The moment you walked in, a smirk was formed on her lips. She started to walk towards you when a blonde girl interrupted her.

"Bada, when is the competition in Busan?" she said. You took the opportunity to escape Bada rada and went to the back. You ended up being pushed to the middle area when the class started.

you could feel her gaze through her cap. Bada never took her eyes off you and you were flustered causing you to forget the steps. You looked at your feet when you tripped and felt a pair of hands around your waist.

"Are you alright? Here. Let me help you," She said. She took your arm and held your waist, moving it in the direction the choreography required.

"I've got you. You can count on me, pretty girl," she said making you a blushing mess. She then went back to the center of the class and wrapped it up.

You didn't wait. You were too shy to confront her and she didn't seem to care about you being married. You rushed back to your house and realized your husband was already there. It was not even late but there was another pair of shoes there.

You scoffed. It pained you how he could be so careless of you when he promised your father and you to always cherish you and care for you. So you walked into the room where they were lying down.

"Babe!" he yelled when he saw you.

"Oh... didn't know you'd be here. You said you were working late but don't worry. I'll be on my way and you guys can continue like yesterday," you said. He panicked trying to put on his clothes and kept calling your name.

You didn't pay him any mind, picked up your bags, and walked out of the door. Then reality hit you. You were as emotionally strong as you thought. You broke down. You cried like never before and held your chest. People around looked at you in concern but no one dared to help.

Once you calmed down, you decided to dial the only person you could think of who might help you.

Bada.

So you dialed and she answered almost immediately.

"Hey, I was waiting for your call," she said. You sniffled.

"Would you mind giving me a lift? I can't drive right now,"

"Yes, of course. Are you okay?"

"umm... not really. I can't drive right now," you said.

"Send me your location and don't move. I'll go find you," she said and you did as she told you.

As soon as she saw your figure sitting on the floor she exited the car and ran to you. She knelt and lifted your head.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me," Bada asked scanning your body for any injuries.

"He cheated on me," you said. You were crying again and you couldn't see how her tongue poked the side of her cheek. She was angry. How could someone ever hurt someone as beautiful as you?

"Come with me," she said and took you to her car. She drove you to her apartment where loud music was playing. There were lots of people and she had your bags dropped off in the guest bedroom.

She introduced you to some of her friends and you started to loosen up as her friends comforted you and joked around.

Lusher handed you a drink and told you to chug it. And you did without asking. You knew alcohol would help you forget. So you took drink after drink.

You didn't even notice when people started leaving. It was only you sitting at the dining table with a drink in your head and your forehead against the glass table.

"Y/N, get up," Bada held your arm to pick you up. You threw yourself on her arms and giggled too intoxicated to even walk.

"Bada.... Am I ugly? Or what? Am I not good in bed? Why did this happen? I want to talk to him!" She said and she shook her head.

"Come on. You need to sleep," she said as she carried you to the bedroom. She made you lay down and you pulled her down.

"Sleep with me! I feel like shit," you said.

"This will not make you feel any better," Bada said as she took your shoes off. You were already sound asleep. She went up to you and kissed your forehead.

"You are beautiful,"

-

The following morning, you woke up with a headache. You saw Bada sleeping on the floor with a blanket over her body. You didn't feel bad. Minus the headache, you felt grateful for Bada.

Your phone started ringing, and she woke up. You looked at your phone and saw that it was your husband. Bada took the phone and gave you water and pain pills.

She made you food and you followed her around the house quietly. Your phone rang again. And a million messages started entering your phone. One caught your eye.

'Let's make this work. I promise I'll change,'

"I need to talk to him," you said and Bada held your arm and took you to her room.

"You're not going," she said.

"Well, that's not for you to decide, Bada," you said and she scoffed as she pressed you against the wall.

"It became my decision once you put your lips on mine," she said as she got closer to you.

"He could have a change of heart," you said again.

"Do you want to go to him, or do you want to finish what we started in the studio, huh?" The hem of her fingers dragging along your arms.

You cursed mentally and bit your lip looking around the room. You didn't want to go to him. You wanted Bada in every way possible but you couldn't possibly tell her that.

"You took too long to answer. You're mine now," she said before smashing her lips on yours. Her hand was gripping your waist tightly before placing you in the bed.

"I'll make you forget about everything. I'll be the only one in your mind from now on," she said before removing your shirt. She placed love bites on your chest. Marking you as hers,

 You bit your lip to prevent any moan from escaping your mouth but that was all in vain when you felt Bada's hand slip inside your underwear and a slender finger pressed on your sensitive bud. 

A moan escaped your mouth and she took the opportunity to kiss you allowing her tongue to explore your mouth. While sloppily kissing you her finger continued to work on your clit. 

She swallowed every moan that left your mouth. 

"You sound so good, baby. I can't get enough of you since the day I saw you," she said. 

"We just met, Bada. And I am married... ah~" you moaned when she inserted a finger in you. 

"Mh... well, you are a mess right now. And it is all for me. I don't care about anything else. You are mine," she said as she began moving in and out of you. with each thrust, you could feel yourself closer to release and your moans got louder. 

"Bada, please don't stop," you pleaded as she continued moving inside of you. But she wasn't going to let you off easily. She wanted you to know that you were hers. 

She wanted to make you feel so good that no one would ever be able to satisfy you ever again so you'd come begging her for more. And she'd be willing to give it all to you. 

She removed her finger from your inside making you groan. She chuckled and moved down on the bed, pulling you to the edge and slowly removing your bottoms along with your underwear. 

"Fuck... I barely touched you and you are already dripping..." she bit her lips before diving in with her tongue. She collected your juices with her tongue and teased your entrance with her finger. 

"Bada, please..." you whined as you moved your hips trying to find friction to please your needy cunt. 

"That's a good girl. Begging for me to give her what she wants. What she needs," Bada said. She pushed two fingers inside of you and her lips attacked your clit. Loud moans filled the room and you swore you began to see stars.

Your legs were wide open and your hand was tangled in her hair. You pushed her further down on you and your hips moved to an incredible rhythm. Her moans send vibrations through your core making everything feel so much better. 

"Bada... ah fuck. I want more," you moaned out words that were almost incoherent but she understood perfectly. 

"Who is my pretty little doll? Who will let Mommy Bada play with her when she needs to?" Bada asked as she paused her moments. 

"I am. You can use me however you want. I belong to you now," you said between breaths feeling your face grow hotter by the minute as you saw how wet Bada's face was due to your sopping pussy. 

Never have you been in this condition before and yet, you wanted nothing more. She was enough for you. 

"Good dolly," she said before shoving three fingers inside of you. Her long and pretty fingers curled up inside of you and reached all the way to your sweet spot. A nasty and long moan signaled to her that she had finally found it.

And she showed no mercy on you. You tasted too sweet. She couldn't get enough of your taste, your moans, and your warmth. You were just what she was expecting. Just what she wanted. 

As her fingers worked wonders inside of you, her lips sucked on your extremely sensitive clit. You couldn't control yourself anymore. Your back was arched, fists gripped the sheets, and your body was shaking. You could feel your legs closing up on Bada's head. 

She looked at you. You looked perfect with your eyes rolled back and completely destroyed under her touch. 

"Bada- Ba- Bada... I... mmmh," you couldn't form a sentence when you felt your release. You came all over her face and fingers. She chuckled as she felt your warm juices coat her and she licked up every drop as you recovered from the intense orgasm the tall stranger had just given you. 

But... If she was so deep inside you, was she really a stranger at all?

She shoved her two fingers in your mouth making you taste yourself. 

"Clean up your mess, will you?" she said and you sucked on the woman's fingers licking up your mess. She then proceeded to kiss you passionately as she grabbed you by the neck. 

"Let this be a lesson that a pretty doll like you belongs to me, and I don't like to share my toys," 

And with that she walked off, leaving her pretty doll disheveled and satisfied in her... and now your bed.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[hcsiqs]

| begin again

• pairing: kk arnold x fem!reader

• summary: based on taylor swifts ‘begin again’

• warnings: readers height is specified, use of y/n

Took a deep breath in the mirror

He didn’t like it when I wore high heels

but I do

You stood in front of the full length mirror, turning to the side to see the back of the dress you were wearing. As you did your boyfriend walked into the room and you gave him a small smile through the mirror before his eyes dropped to the heels that you had put on.

“You can’t wear those,” he stated as he fixed his tie behind you.

It wasn’t even that you were super tall, you stood at the average height, your boyfriend on the other hand was slightly below average and hated when you made him appear shorter than he was.

“Why not? I like them,” you frowned as you turned around to face him.

“I don’t. Change,” his voice was full of annoyance as he spoke to you before he disappeared into the bathroom leaving you to yourself once again.

Your eyes dropped down to the heels you were wearing that you had bought specifically for tonight. You had been saving up your money so you would be able to wear them, but you hadn’t taken into consideration that he would be butt hurt by them.

So, you reluctantly changed your heels for a pair of flats and looked back into the mirror. It just wasn’t the same.

“Much better, baby. You ready?” your boyfriend asked as he walked out of the bathroom and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head. You just nodded your head before the two of you left to go for prom.

Turn the lock and put my headphones on

He always said he didn’t get this song

But I do, I do

As the two of you made your way through the house with both your parents snapping photos to capture your prom night, you could feel the tension of your relationship rising.

It had been like this for several weeks now, but with prom around the corner neither of you wanted to have to find a new date, especially after being together for three years now.

But once you made it out of the way of your parents you both got into his car and you immediately went to grab the aux to play your favorite song, but he took the cord back quickly.

“I don’t like that song. Listen to it in your headphones,” he grabbed the headphones out of the consul and handed them over to you. Because of how different y’all’s music taste was he always kept headphones so you both could listen to your respective songs.

“Shouldn’t we be like present in the moment? I won’t even play the song, I promise,” you had your head turned as you spoke to him, almost trying to get your relationship back to where it was two years ago.

“I don’t give a fuck about being present, Y/N. Just wanna get this shit over with.”

Walked in expecting you’d be late

But you got here early and you stand and wave

I walk to you

As you exited your car you could feel the nerves building your stomach. You and KK have never hung out alone, it was usually after a big win and the two of you both ended up at the same after party. And someone how the two of you always ended up together the entire night, flirting back and forth, so when she asked you out you weren’t completely surprised.

You had never been on a date with a girl before, which was only adding to your nerves. After your high school relationship ended you realized that maybe guys weren’t it for you, and when you met KK you felt yourself being more attracted to her day by day.

Because of your nerves you had gotten to the restaurant early, not expecting KK to already be there, but when you started walking to the front doors you saw her standing there with her phone in hand waiting for you. You felt yourself let out a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding as you looked at her, and just then she lifted her head up with the smile on her face that you had been thinking about for days and now and she waved at you.

You walked a little bit faster until you were stood in front of her, a smile on your lips. “Hi,” you looked up at her feeling your heart literally flutter.

“Holy,” she dragged her hand down the bottom of her face as tried to find a word to describe how amazing you looked, “You look so beautiful.”

“So do you,” you giggled before she pointed her hand to the door asking if you wanted to go inside.

You pull my chair out and help me in

And you don’t know how nice that is

But I do

The two of you walked behind the hostess, KK’s hand lingering on the small of your back as she guided you between all the tables. And when you arrived at your table you immediately went to pull your own chair out by KK swatted your hand away, “Nuh-uh,” she shook her head before pulling it out and motioning for you to sit down.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, feeling your heartbeat sky rocket. No one had ever done these simple little things for you and you really didn’t know how to even react.

“I’d never let my girl pull her own chair out,” KK smiled as she sat down across from you.

“Your girl, huh?” you tried holding back your smile as you cocked your head slightly.

“When this is the best date of your life you won’t be questioning it,” she replied, as her hand found yours across the table.

But you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it’s strange you think I’m funny

Cause he never did

And KK was right, it was the best date of your life. She seemed interested in even the boring parts of your life and she brought up little things you had told to her in your past conversations.

Then when you told funny stories, she actually laughed, something your ex had never done no matter how you told it to him.

“It was like I was talking to a brick wall!” you laughed, your cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling.

“I bet!” KK laughed running her hand down her face as she shook her head.

I’ve been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe

As the date ended and she walked you to your car you couldn’t believe you had waited this long to go out with her. It was like you had found your person. The one person that understands you inside and out.

“Shut me up if I’ve read this wrong or whatever, but I would really like to go out again,” you told her a smile on your lips as you leaned against the door of your car.

“I’d like that too,” she smiled walking towards you, her hands finding a place on your hips. “Is it ok if I kiss you?” her voice lowered to more of a whisper as her finger tips moved against the back of your dress.

“Please,” you smiled and one of her hands came up to cup your cheek as she pulled you in, her lips gently placed against your own.

You could’ve sworn that you felt your heart literally explode in that very moment. You never wanted to stop kissing her and feeling her touch, it was everything you had ever dreamed of it.

And then it hit you. This is what actually liking someone is like.

I watched it begin again

[saberlight1]

my love, mine all mine — lucy gray baird

pairing(s): lucy gray baird x fem!reader, mentions of coriolanus snow x fem!reader.

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of ptsd, trauma, angst, possessive!lucy, Y/N usage, slightly mean!lucy, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: boom! another one. i am so happy you all love my writing! keep sending in these requests, y’alls ideas are so cool and i adore reading them. this fic is based off of this request, and i hope you all enjoy it! much love .

masterlist

When your eyes first laid upon Lucy Gray Baird, you were immediately enthralled by her presence. Everyone who had ever gotten the honor to meet her would say the same.

You had grown up in the very same district that her and her family, The Covey, were locked up in after being rounded up by the Peacekeepers. Most people around Twelve talked shit on them for being different, but the thing that drew you in the most to her was the fact that she didn’t give a shit.

She didn’t care what anyone thought, no one in her family did. They loved what they did, and that was singing. You saw this on full display at the Hob, where they performed every other night.

You already knew she was beautiful, but, God, when you saw her on that stage, beaming, you swore Aphrodite was standing before you. Her voice was just as beautiful as her, as she danced around stage, captivating the whole room.

At the end her performance, you snatched a daisy out of someone’s bouquet as you walked by, speed-walking to the corridor you were watching her walk into.

“Lucy Gray!” You called, the girl turning towards your call immediately, a smile still on her face. You held out the flower, a soft smile on your face. “You’re beautiful, as well as your singing.”

She blushed, her laugh coming out. “Why, thank you, darlin’.” She took the daisy, taking it up to her nose to smell. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” You beamed. “It’s a real pleasure to see you and your family around here. You really light it up ‘round here.” You complimented. “Twelve’s a normally dull place, but here.. it’s different.”

“Thank you, truly.” Her hand grabbed yours, squeezing. “I’ll see you around.”

And she kept her word, finding you after her next show to get to know you better.

And just like that, the pair of you were inseparable.

She introduced you to the Covey, and after they learned you had pipes, you were immediately brought into their group. You loved it, it felt as if you had found the people you’d been longing for your whole life.

But you found yourself staring at Lucy Gray for longer than normal, a dopey smile lazily draped across your sun kissed features. It wasn’t until some teasing from CeCe and Billy that you realized that you had feelings for the girl.

“Aye, Y/N, it seems like you got some drool right there…” CeCe teased, a playful smile on his face as they caught you staring at the girl for the 100th time.

Billy butted in from his side. “Yeah, you do. Someone’s fallin’ for the songbird,” He laughed. You rolled your eyes at them, before taking their words into consideration.

Holy fuck, you were falling for her.

I mean, how could you not? She was a beacon of light, her presence alone brighting up every room she walked into to, and she had treated you wonderfully, even going as far to include you with her family.

You were caught up in your love daze, not realizing the crushing realities that came with your feelings. But when you did, it left a sour taste in your mouth.

The butterflies swirling in your abdomen stopped in an instant, replaced with an oozing, grueling feeling of worry. Lucy Gray could find you repulsing— and the whole Covey would leave you as well.

It left you wishing you had a factory reset button to forget your feelings at once.

“Y/N, what’s with the frown?” Lucy Gray suddenly appeared in front of you, her signature smile on her cherry lips.

Your eyes snapped to hers, your nerves only growing. “Oh, nothin’. Just thinkin’.”

She sat down next to you. “Oh, really? Didn’t think you was capable.” She joked, making you lightly shove her with a smile.

Your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close you were to the girl. Her honey eyes stared up into yours, and you struggled to not look at her lips. All you wanted to do was close the space between the pair of you.

But you decided on that day that you would settle for this. After all— having her as a friend was better than nothing.

It wasn’t until the reaping of that year that you decided to throw caution to the wind.

It was the Covey’s first reaping, and it was for the annual 9th Hunger Games. Your nerves always got the best of you during this time of year, but it seemed that you weren’t the only one.

You sat in your room, Lucy Gray sitting at your desk in the corner. She said she was trying to write, but you could tell by the bouncing of her leg and her tense body that it wasn’t going well.

You licked your lips, putting your book aside. “You alright, Gray?”

She turned her head, her eyes meeting yours from over her shoulder. She sighed, turning back to the paper and rubbing her temple. “No,”

You stood up, coming to stand next to her, your hesitant hands rubbing her shoulders, the tense muscles deflating under your touch. “What’s wrong?”

“I.. I just really miss my mama.” She let out a sad breath. “And this reapin’ stuff is got my nerves wrecked.”

“I know the feelin’.” You bitterly chuckled. “You won’t get your name drawn, Lucy, none of you will. Your names are only in their once, your chances are slim. You should be okay. I miss my ma, too. I know it hurts.” You tried your best to calm her.

Her hand came up to grab yours that was resting on her shoulder, lacing your fingers together. “You know, you are about the only good thing in this District,” She smiled up at you, her worry lines faded.

At her words you felt those butterflies return, as your eyes flickered down to her lips, your teeth pulling in your bottom lip as you tried to talk yourself down.

Lucy Gray noticed this, however, and with a smile still plastered on her pretty face, she leaned up ever so slightly and captured your lips with her own. Your eyes widened in surprise, before they fluttered closed, your hands coming up to cup her face.

You let out a happy hum against her lips, the girl standing up to get a better grip on your hips, her lips never leaving yours. When you broke apart for air, a giggle left her slips at the sight of your lips stained with her lipstick.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for so long,” You admitted with a smile.

A smirk grew across her face. “I was waitin’ for you to grow the balls to do it first. Turns out you were too chicken.” She teased, her arms wrapping around your neck as she left small pecks on your lips.

You didn’t even pretend to be offended by her words, instead rolling your eyes playfully before kissing her again.

“Be my girlfriend,” She whispered against your lips. You pulled back slightly at her words, before jumping into her arms.

“Yes, yes.” You chuckled, as the girl hugged you back just as tightly.

That led you to now, where you smiled at the same brunette that was laid in your arms. She was different, anyone who had been what she went through would be, but she was also still your same Lucy Gray in all the best ways.

After you got her back from the games, you vowed to never let her go again. The turmoil you felt in the weeks that she was away from you, not knowing if you’d see her again or not— you never wanted to feel that again. And she felt the same way.

“You got a starin’ problem, girl?” Lucy Gray teased with that southern drawl you loved, seeing that you were lost in thought.

A warm smiled crossed your face at the sound of her voice, your hand going to play with her hair. “If it means I get to look at you, then yes, I do.”

She giggled, snuggling deeper into your arms. “Yeah, yeah, you sap.”

“You love it,”

She rolled her eyes, playfully. “I do,” She looked at you seriously now, leaning up to kiss you softly. You smiled against her lips, the feeling of her expressing her love for you in such an intimate way always making you smile.

You would proudly admit that you were head over heels in love with your girlfriend to anyone. But you knew you couldn’t— hell, the only people that even knew you were together was the Covey and her mentor, Coriolanus Snow. People didn’t seem expect, nor accept your type of love.

She had told him during her time there, during the nights they spent together talking through the cage bars. She talked his ear off about you, a love-sick smile on her face the whole time, the girl forgetting that some people weren’t accepting of your love.

But to her surprise, Coriolanus didn’t care if she was with a girl. In fact, he was thrilled, which confused her to no end. (She didn’t know this, but the only reason he was happy was because he now had something that would fuel her to win.)

You thanked every star above for the Snow boy for bringing your girl back to you, even if she was brought back with sharper edges. You didn’t care, you had her back in your arms. And you wanted to thank him.

But, Lucy Gray was a different girl than what she was when she left, even if she tried to pretend that wasn’t the case. She was more paranoid, more protective of the people she loved— especially you. More than you anticipated.

So the next morning when you set out to find the boy who was currently serving time as a Peacekeeper in your very district, the one goal in your mind was to thank him, the thought that this might be upsetting to your girlfriend not even crossing your temple.

You decided to bring him a rose— Lucy Gray mentioning to you that his Grandmother grew them, and you just happened to as well. It wasn’t like the pure ones his Grandmother grew in the Capitol, but you deemed it good enough.

You caught a glimpse of his platinum buzzcut, a smile growing over your ruby red lips. “Snow!” You called, jogging up to him in your cowboy boots. He turned at the call, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw it was you.

“Y/N?” He questioned.

“Hey, Coriolanus.” You smiled, holding out the rose for him. “Lucy Gray mentioned something about your Grandmother and roses, and just as a thanks for you bringin’ her back to me, I’d like to give you this,” You motioned to the rose.

To your delight, his hard face warped into that of a smile. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” His hand came out to squeeze your forearm affectionately. “I appreciate it, and you don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do.” You assured him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t get her back. You saved her… so, truly, thank you, Coriolanus. I mean it.” You felt eyes on you, but you shook the feeling off.

He nodded sheepishly, not used to the type of compliment you were giving him. “Of course.. Thank you for the rose. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll see you around.” He smiled, giving your forearm one last squeeze before he turned.

“You’re welcome, Coryo.” You flashed him one last smile before you turned on your heel yourself. What you didn’t expect to see was to see those honey eyes you loved staring daggers at you.

You cocked your head to the side as she began to stomp her way towards you. Once she reached you, she grabbed your wrist with a hard grip, and without word dragged you back to your now shared home.

“Lucy, what’re you doing?” You asked, just as your neared the front lawn of your home.

She clicked her tongue, a sign she was mad, and shook her head, continuing to lead you to the house in silence. Once the pair of you got in, she threw her bag on your shared bed, crossing her arms.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, her tone hard.

“What are you talkin’ about, Lucy?” You asked, stepping closer to her. She only backed away, her head shaking once again, while you visibly shrank at her rejection.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You know better,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I been runnin’ around, lookin’ for you like some fool, while you were off with my mentor, lettin’ him touch you. Why were you with him, huh?” She pressed. “What, you think I’m stupid or somethin’?”

“Coriolanus?” Your eyebrows furrowed, still not quite catching on to what she was so angry about.

“Yes, damnit, him.” Her voice slightly raised as she walked up to you, her gaze lowered as she glared at you. “Why were you givin’ him a rose, huh? Why were his hands on you?”

You licked your lips as you took in her state. Her pupils were blown out, her jaw slack— God, she looked so hot when she was angry. You shook your head at your thoughts, trying to be serious.

“Aye!” Her fingers snapped in front of your face, angrily. “Answer me,”

“Lucy, I— I was goin’ to thank him..” You whispered, your voice dying in your throat as you submitted to her fiery gaze.

“Why?” Her voice was low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine.

“For bringin’ you back t’me.” You admitted, looking at the floor guiltily as it sunk in that how much you truly had upset her. “I never got the chance to properly thank him, and you said he liked roses. So I brought him one, I thought it would remind him of home. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear,”

Her eyes softened. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry..” She whispered, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, rubbing softly. “I.. My mind went somewhere completely different when I saw him touchin’ you.. It just made me angry,”

A sly smirk came over your features. “I think you mean jealous, Lucy Gray.” You whispered teasingly.

“Only you could make me this crazy,” She smiled. “But, I am sorry.” She said, guilt swirling in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You reassured her, seeing that she was beating herself up. “Even I get a little jealous seein’ Billy drape hisself on you when he’s shitfaced, it’s normal, baby, I ain’t mad.” Your goofy smile mixed with your southern accent making her smile come back.

But just as it returned, it was replaced with a serious look. “Just.. stay away from him, alright? I don’t fully trust ‘em.”

“I won’t go near him again, I promise. I just wanted him to know I was thankful for bringin’ my best girl back t’me,” You tried to cheer her up, your lips ghosting over hers.

“Good. ‘Cause your mine,” She smirked, closing the space between the two of you as her lips kissed you hard, her teeth nipping your bottom lip as you let out a gasp, granting her access to your mouth as she deepened the kiss.

You smiled against her lips, thanking the stars above that you had the pleasure of being hers.

[l44serbeam]

— PASS TIME ࣪𖤐 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — swearing, insecurity, anxiety, blood, guns, smut, heavy make out, fingering (r!recieving), nipple play, softdom!ellie, hair pulling, hickeys, degradation (y/n calls ellie pathetic in a joking way)

Stuck in a abandoned pharmacy closet during a storm while on a patrol, Ellie seems to have some interesting ideas on what to do while you wait it out. these ideas lead you to believe that maybe she doesn’t hate you as much as you thought she did.

not proofread

There was one thing y/n had in agreement with Ellie Williams and that was that the two of them did not get along.

Whether it was being paired together on patrol and disagreeing on working methods or bickering over meals, the two just couldn’t seem to live in harmony.

It wasn’t because they were polar opposites or anything. On the contrary, the two were quite alike. Both carried an aura of intimidation and were known to be very good fighters. In reality, they had no real reason to have this dispute.

So when Maria partnered the two up for a two day long run to an abandoned town many miles out, not even an hour went by before they were both banging at her door.

“Its for the best. You two are my strongest forces and it’s a far place…” Maria began, looking away from them as she folded the blankets on her couch. “We’re running low on medical supplies and i don’t have enough people to spare to send a whole team. Plus, it’ll do you guys good to be out there with one another. Get to know each other maybe. End what ever stupid rivalry y’all seem to have going on.”

The two groaned and protested but Maria made it clear her pairing was final, no questions to be asked about it anymore.

“This isn’t some simple patrol y/n. No fucking around. Follow my lead, we don’t separate, and we don’t detour.” Ellie instructs sharply as the two rode down the forest, freshly leaving Jackson and preparing for the mission ahead.

“You talk to me like im not the one who was literally raised out here. If anything you should be following my lead.” y/n responded.

Ellie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “That doesn’t make you better. Just means more people were around to save your ass.”

“Then why am I here?”

“To make my life miserable apparently.”

Y/n sighed as her tongue poked the inside of her cheek. She seemed to almost be trying to contain herself, a desperate look of wanted to punch the girl on the horse next to her lingered on her face.

“Literally the only reason im on this run with you Ellie is because i am just as capable as you. So please, shut the fuck up and leave me be.” She retorted sourly, looking the opposite way from Ellie and into the trees. She didn’t want to deal with this now. The hollow, harmful words that they threw at each other.

Ellie turned her head the slightest, catching a glimpse pf her, almost slightly stunned at her response.

The two always argued, that was known, but it was never like that. The harshness and seriousness of her last words surprised Ellie, not being the usual sassy clap back she gave that Ellie could actually respond to. This time, y/n looked distant and out of it but Ellie decided to respect her wishes, looking back ahead and letting silence remain between the two.

The people that surrounded them always tried to recall why the two fueded, but no one ever could. It seemed like from the very first time they interacted, they just didn’t like each other. But, their “first” interaction according to those people wasnt truly their first interaction.

Y/n was brought into Jackson three years ago, scared and alone. Covered in blood and looking with eyes that seemed to shoot daggers at everyone. A team of people had come across her, running from three runners in a torn down office building. Once settled, she had been given a house next to Joels, being one of the smaller ones considering she was just one person.

For the first few days, y/n didn’t leave her house, taking advantage of the fact she hadn’t been assigned with a job yet and avoiding interaction with the public. The majority of the town still hadn’t even seen her since she first came in, rumors beginning to spread about who she was. Some said she had a face covered in scared skin, others said she was tiny and frail but her hands were stained a deep red with blood.

Ellie being the way she was, desperately wanted to know who she really was. She wanted to see this girl and figure out whether the monstrosities people whispered about her.

Y/n was awoken one morning by three heavy knocks on her door. She seriously considered ignoring them, groaning into her pillow as she stood up.

Could be important. She told herself. When she swung the door open, the girl that stood before her was unfamiliar. Unlike most people, she looked closer to her own age, being 17 at the time. The wide smile on her face faltered and her eyes widened when her eyes met with y/ns. Her hands flew up to the hairs sticking out of her bun and tried to smooth them back as much as possible.

“Um… Hello?” Y/n quipped, breaking the girl from whatever trance she was stuck in, her cheeks reddening and eyes rushing the the ground.

“Oh- Uh- Hi! Im Ellie. Your neighbor.” She began, pointing at her own home in the distance. Y/n nodded and gave her an acknowledging smirk.

“Im y/n,” She introduced, leaning against the door with her hand still on the handle. “Is there anything i can help you with?” She asked when Ellie returned to silence again.

“N-No not eaxctly. In all honesty i came by out of curiosity. Wanted to see if you were really like some murderous crazy person.” She laughed slightly, a strange pitting feeling in her stomach.

Y/ns eyebrows knitted together and her demeanor changed as she shifted on her legs.

“Why? Because im from the outside? So seems like since Im not from some fuck ass FEDRA base or some community im automatically a wild animal that kills people for fun?” She begins, clearly offended by Ellies comment.

Ellies eyes opened worriedly. “No no no. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that thats what people have been sort of saying about you since no ones really seen you. Kinda cant blame them-”

“For titling me as some savage just because I was born outside their little bubble?”

“Im just saying you haven’t really given them much to work on. And its not like your the sweetest either.” She said, mumbling the last bit.

Y/n scoffed, stepping back into the house but leaving the door open, her hand still on the door knob. “You come to my house, call me a murderous crazy person, then try to justify it?”

“I wasn’t calling you that. I- I just meant i get why youve stayed home but you really havent gone out and last time people saw you was when you first came in and-“ Ellie hissed and raised her eyebrows, suggesting severity, “that wasn’t exactly the kindest sight.” She finished rambling, realizing it didn’t help in the slightest when her eyes fell on y/n.

“Ok you know what, fuck you.” y/n said, slamming the door shut and leaving Ellie wide eyed and red.

How could i have fucked that up so badly. Ellie asked herself frozen in guilt and embarrassment.

After that, Ellie couldn’t bare being around her and not feeling that turmoiling feeling in her gut. She automatically counteracted it with harsh comments and rudeness. Even when a few days later, y/n attempted to apologize, Ellie dismissing her with a rude comment and sparking another fight that solidified their dislike.

But after a year or two and one drunken evening where their bickering turned into borderline foreplay, the dynamic changed. The majority of times, their stabs at each other seemed to be laced with an igniting feeling and fiery looks at each other. People close to them had seemed to start noticing this shift, whether it was the devilish smirks on Ellies face or the way y/n seemed to gravitate closer and closer to her.

So now, when y/n had barely even looked Ellie in the eye and dryly responded to every comment thrown at her by the girl as the walked down the foreign towns roads, the map in Ellies hand and a knife in y/ns, Ellie couldnt help but feel a growing sense of concern.

Did someone do something to her? She wondered, anger stacking up at this imaginary person just at the thought of it

“The pharmacy should be up ahead. Joel gave me a side note to check back room closest and storage rooms. Most should be locked so they’ll probably have shit inside.” Ellie began, scanning her surroundings.

“If the rooms are locked how are we getting in?” Y/n asked.

“Lucky for us, i have a lock pick and 6 hours worth of learning from Tommy.” She says with a smirk. Y/n simply nods and keeps walking with precaution.

“Whats up with you?” Ellie finally voices, her tome coming out harsher than she’d meant it to.

“Nothing. I thought we weren’t fucking around so thats what im doing. Not fucking around.” She shot back. Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes.

“God you’re dramatic.” She mumbled under her breath.

Y/n scoffed a sarcastic laugh, suggesting her comment to be absurd, but she didn’t respond.

Suddenly, thunder boomed from the gray clouds above, the scent of rain invading their senses with the gust of wind that hit them.

“Shit.” Ellie hissed beneath her breath. “We should get to the pharmacy soon. Seems like it gonna be a bad one.” She finished, referencing to the harsh wind that rocked the trees and over grown vines around them, the sky darkening above them.

“We should pick up the pace.” Y/n suggested as she began jogging and Ellie trailed behind her.

As the two felt patters of rain fall on their shoulders, the jog became a run as the wind picked up.

“There!” Ellie yelled, pointing ahead of them to their left. As the two approached, they saw the busted out windows, the glass covering the ground around it.

They jumped through the glassless windows and unto the store. The two breathed heavily when they reached somewhat safety.

The pharmacy looked completely ran through, shelves thrown all over the ground and trash everywhere.

“He was right! Come back here Ellie.” Y/n yelled against the sound of the wind whistling. By this point, the weather had reached full storm level and the strength of the wind tunneled throughout the exposed pharmacy.

With the aggressive push of the wind on Ellies back, she ran to y/n.

“Fuck i don’t know how well i can do this while a fucking tornado is going on.” She yelled at y/n as she crouched before the door knob.

“Ill block you.” Y/n said as she stood behind Ellie, bringing her arms to lean on the door on each side of Ellie above her, y/n head near Ellies neck and the gusts of wind pushing y/ns front into Ellies back. How the fuck is this supposed to help me focus.

Ellie inserted the lock pick into the slot and began twisting and turning it, different clicks falling into place and the knob rattling.

Y/n couldn’t lie, but her apathetic mood almost slipped with Ellies proximity. As Ellies arms moved to undo the lock, her back muscles flexed against y/ns chest, the wind blowing her into Ellies neck, the scent of pinewood soap and the metallic sent of blood from the infected they’d taken down earlier.

“I got it!” Ellie beamed, shooting up to pull the door. The resistance of the wind made it particularly difficult to open, y/n grabbing onto the door through the little crack Ellie opened and helped her.

When it opened just enough, the two rushed in as Ellie gripped the door, letting it slam closed when they were in. The room was pitch black, the two utterly unaware of their surroundings.

Ellie fiddled with the knob and tried to open the door, her theory being proved when the door didn’t budge at her push.

“Guess were camping in here tonight.” She said as y/n clicked on the flash light. The two looked around and saw quite a few things they could bring back. Bulk packages of ibuprofen and other medications.

“Fuck yeah.” Ellie said, inspecting the items and making sure they weren’t broken open or contaminated.

y/n set down her bag and removed her sleeping bag from it, laying it on the ground.

“Think the horses will be ok?” Ellie asked, attempting to start conversation.

“Yeah they should be. I tied down the garage door pretty well.” She responded, grabbing amo and supplies out of the bag to clean and reload her gun.

Ellie sat down on the ground in the small spot that wasn’t covered by y/ns sleeping bag, her lip in between her teeth and eyes nervous, like she was resisting saying something.

Y/ns eyes flickered up from the gun to Ellies face. “What?” She asked.

“Why are you acting weird?” Ellie finally asked. “You’ve been super fucking offputish and like not talking.”

Y/n sighed and shook her head in almost disbelief. “I haven’t been acting weird Ellie. Were on a mission and im focusing on it like you said.” She repeated, making Ellie bite her cheek at the rising feeling of guilt . “And why do you even fucking care. You dont want me to be here and i dont want to be here. We dont have to pretend.”

“What do you mean i dont want you to be here?” Ellie asked accusatively.

“You’ve made it pretty obvious Ellie! Like for the past three years maybe!” Y/n said, putting down the gun and investing herself into the interaction.

“Why would you say that? I never said i dont want you here. Never.” Ellie retorted, putting a punctuating finger in the air.

“You practically do every day! You pick apart everything i do and make sure to insult me on it. I mean Jesus i cant breath around you without you telling me im doing something wrong!” Y/n began yelling, rising to her feet and towering above Ellie, her eyes going up all of y/ns body as they fell on her face.

Fuck. y/n thought. Her eyes. Her big, round, bright eyes looked up at her, her eyebrows knitted together and tongue cupping her teeth.

“You say that like you don’t do the same thing y/n! Dont act like im just some bully, this situation goes both ways!” She said, also coming up to her feet to match y/n.

“I do it because im not gonna let you just insult me and act like nothing happened! Im not going to let that slide Ellie so of course i argue back but thats because you start it!” Y/n said, punctuating her ‘you’ by aggressively poking Ellies chest, her wrist immediately being caught by the girls strong hand.

They’re eyes met one another, anger coating them. But, beneath, there was something else. Something almost animalistic.

“Stop fucking yelling at me.” Ellie said, her words bitter but tone almost pleading.

The closeness between the two finally seemed to settle in their minds. Y/n’s wrist still in Ellies hand, their fronts pressed together. Y/n could feel Ellies warm breath against her skin, igniting goosebumps all along her spine.

There was no way Ellie didn’t feel it too, she thought. There was no way that Ellie would let herself be in this position if she wasn’t feeling the same carnal compulsion as her. She wouldn’t be looking at her with the eyes she was.

“Make me.” y/n said, her actions turning to become beyond her own control.

A devilish smirk painted Ellies lips for mere seconds before she slammed herself into y/ns lips, the force so strong y/n back hit the wall behind her.

Their bodies flowed together violently, pushing each others hips back and forth against one another. The kiss was fueled with regressed anger and burning passion, tongues not waiting a second to collide.

Y/ns hands found themselves to grab onto the girls hair, nails scratching at her scalp as she hissed into y/ns mouth.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Ellie groaned into her mouth.

“You’re telling me?” Y/n responded, Ellies taking advantage and letting her lips trail down y/ns neck, latching onto her pulse point the second she felt ut and biting down, a breath of air harshly leaving y/ns lips as she felt Ellies thigh press against the place she wanted her most.

The lack of friction from layers of clothing made y/n whine as she tried to find some kind of it, grinding against Ellies leg as she made an attack on y/ns neck, leaving red marks in her trail that were sure to become purple within a few hours.

“Desperate aren’t ya?” Ellie litted.

“Fuck you.”

Ellie laughed, her teeth pressed cold against y/ns jaw. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?”

y/n rolled her eyes and pulled Ellies head back into a heated kiss, one Ellie cheekily smiled into. Her warm hands found themselves under y/ns shirt going up, dragging up y/ns shirt with it.

“This ok?” Ellie asked, y/ns frantic nods being her signal to fully separate and remove the shirt over y/ns head.

She looked down at y/n in awe, her tongue peaking out from between her lips and her cheeks reddening. “Fuck. i’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Oh really?” Y/n responded as she brought her arma up to rest of Ellies shoulder, her own hands on y/ns hips, holding the two of their pelvises pressed together.

“Yeah, really. From the time you opened your door front door and yelled at me.” Y/n laughed at that.

“God you’re so pathetic.” She laughed as Ellies arms wrapped around her upper body and unclipped y/ns bra, slowly pulling the straps down her arms.

“Watch yourself. Just cause im gonna fuck you does it mean im gonna be nice.” Ellie said into her ear, shots of electricity flying down y/ns back.

Before y/n could say anything in return, her head flew back against the wall as she felt Ellies lips wrap around her nipple and her hands knead the other. Her tongue worked against it and she rolled her thigh up and down, an extended groan leaving y/ns lips.

She switched positions, paying attention to the other nipple and reciprocating her same movements,

Y/ns hand knotted itself in Ellies auburn hair as her lips seared her chest.

Ellies lips kissed up her breast, her neck and her jaw and fell into y/ns mouth, her hand crawling down and being met with the barrier of y/ns jeans.

“Can i get these off of you baby?” She asked into y/n’s mouth, her words rushed and desperate.

Y/ns hands came to the button of her pants and undid them, lowering them slightly and undoing the zipper. Ellies didn’t wait a second before dipping into the pants, the pads of her fingers pressing into y/n’s aching clit.

Y/n let out a lengthy moan as Ellie drew tight circles, her slick pooling in her panties. She mewled desperately, her hips grinding against Ellies hand.

“Shit- Please Ellie. More.” Y/n groaned, her head falling into the crook between Ellies shoulder and neck.

Ellie smiled smugly, pressing kisses into her exposed shoulders as she pushed aside y/ns underwear. “Whatever you want, pretty.” Ellie said, her middle finger running through her wetness, separating her folds and making a mess of her.

Ellie cursed under her breath at the feeling of y/n clenching around nothing, practically begging for her fingers.

Appeasing her wishes, Ellie sunk two fingers into her slowly, hooking her fingers to bottom out into the sweet spot that caused y/n to moan out into Ellies neck.

Gently, Ellie pulled put her fingers and pushed them back in, her palm hitting y/ns clit in the movement. She Ellie repeated her movements over and over, her free hand coming down from y/n’s waist and to the back of one of her thighs, lifting it from the ground and up to Ellies waist, giving her better access to hit y/n as deep as possible.

Y/n’s moans and pants made the hairs on Ellies neck stand. She couldn’t believe this. She thought shed utterly blown her chances from the second y/n first raised her voice at her, standing on her porch. Now, she was knuckle deep in her and cradling her body against the wall.

“Fuck Ellie don’t stop. Im close-” Y/n groaned.

Impossibly, Ellies fingers started to slam into her faster, the vibrations shooting straight to y/n’s clit and the tips of her finger repeatedly plunged against the spot that made y/n moan out in pleasure. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Y/n legs began to shake, Ellie keeping her pressed against the wall and holding her up with her leg and hand. Ellie could feel y/n’s insides spasming around her fingers, her orgasm close and brimming.

“C’mon baby. I know you’re there.” She mumbled into her ear.

Y/n’s eyes squeezed tightly and her mouth flew open silently, her hand flying to Ellies wrist as a way of stabilization as her orgasm flushed over her like a tsunami. Wetness rolled down Ellies fingers, Y/n’s pants and underwear made a complete mess.

Once y/n’s breathing settled, Ellie removed her fingers from her and brought them to her own lips.

“Fuck. You taste good.” She whispered, kissing up her neck and into her lips.

She settles y/n’s leg down but still held onto her waist, her knees bucking the second she put weight on them, making them both laugh.

“I should change into the other pants.” y/n quipped, separating from the kiss.

“Yeah you should..” Ellie said almost dismissively as she pulled y/n down to lay on the sleeping bag, flipping over and placing herself on top.

“Whenever im done with you i mean.”

a/n: heyy babes! my bad i said i was gna post this last night but i got a little too high and fell asleep at like 5pm and forgot to post it 😭😭 also i got carried away with added backstory and setting so i hope you enjoy my beauts. Also wanted to giv a big thank u for the positive feed back on Tired of You!! part two is gna be out on sunday for any of you guys reading this that are waiting for that too!!

[chuuyasheaven]

“—I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch..” — Slumber party by Ashinikko !

Tags: fem! Chuuya Nakahara / afab! Reader, cunnilingus (pussy eating), lesbian sex, slight praising (at the end) , sub! Reader (she/they), dom! Chuuya, having sex while telling off ur ex, swearing, modern! au, might contain grammar errors, etc.

Notes: Spoiling y’all wit fem! Chuu again! The birthday fic is still in work so take this very old edited lesbian fic for an wait!!! :3

Two weeks, it was two weeks ago since you broke up with your ex. Seriously, these weeks have been stressing you out. He wouldn't leave you alone, believing that your meant to be together, as if. You expected to be left alone after you went to a nice little slumber party between you and Chuuya, trying to relax from his constant calls flooding your phone.

Just now, when you were 'busy', he called again. Chuuya took your phone to look who's calling, only to see the contact of your ex. Really, this guy should just let you be and move on! But since he doesn't get it, she's gonna let him experience you feeling actual pleasure. Chuuya picked up and your ex started to talk on how sorry he was or how you should get back together until he heard Chuuya's voice.

"Can you stop calling all the time and move on?", she said annoyed, continuing to play with your cunt. "W–who's this?! This isn't [Name].", Chuuya chuckled before responding to him. "Wow, you figured it out! Good job.", she added another finger inside while you tried to stay quiet. "I wanna talk to her, now.", your ex demanded, but Chuuya didn't let him, at least for now. She then came up with an idea, pulling out her finger out of you.

Licking her fingers clean, she smirked and continued to talk. "I'm not sure if she can talk right now, we're really busy at the moment. She's tasting way too good to stop. .", now he was flabbergasted, confused and flabbergasted. "What the fuck are you talking about?", "You don't know? For your information then, I'm making her feel good.", Chuuya said teasingly, enjoying tormenting your ex. "In fact, if you're doubting me, you can ask them yourself.", she reached you your phone, when you held it next to your ear, she started going down on you.

You gulped, loud enough for your ex to hear. Did he really need to start talking when Chuuya just put her tongue inside? "[Name]? Is that you I'm talking to right now?", he asked. "S–sadly.", you managed to say. "Look i really miss you and—", just as he was about to rant about 'missing you', Chuuya hit your special spot, resulting in you letting out a moan. "Who are you with right now?", he questioned you as if he wasn't talking to them earlier. "J–just mind your d–damn business, god. .", you muttered angrily, trying not to let another slip.

It was impossible to tell him off when Chuuya made you see stars, you threw your head back as Chuuya got you closer to your orgasm. "This is my business! You're sleeping with someone else!", he shouted, just when another particularly loud moan slipped, maybe on accident, maybe not. "What, j–jealous that a girl can make me— f–fuck. . feel better t–than you?", Chuuya's tongue hit the spot multiple times again before you came on her tongue, loudly. Your ex was about to say something before you hung up on him.

"You were doing so good for me, angel. Wanna continue?"

ENJOY!!

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 2

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

series masterlist | prev part | next part

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 206,311 others

mclaren always wanted to see the paddock in its full glory? go behind the scenes with todays special guest, @/yourusername, as she swaps one paddock for another to see a little of what happens on a race day!

view all 2,472 comments

user3 HELLOOOOO WHAT.

user7 WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

user9 lando needs to stay focused :/

user1 stfu

alex_albon @/yourusername this is betrayal i’m disowning u

yourusername noooo dad pls. i’ll come to williams next💙

user7 y/n calling alex and lily mom & dad… she’s just like us for real

landonorris 🧡

liked by yourusername

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by mclaren, landonorris and 21,305 others

y/nupdates y/n today after the race!!! she was seen leaving with teammates lando norris and oscar piastri, and oscar’s girlfriend lily! thank you @/mclaren for taking care of our girl today🧡

view all 202 comments

user4 prettiest baby in existence she is GLOWING

user6 can’t believe she’s an f1 fan this feels unreal

mclaren it was our honour🧡

meanwhile, in texts ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 128,119 others

yourusername back from my adventures into training. qualifications coming up which means extra work for this little (big) man🫣

view all 3,915 comments

user3 BEANIE BOYYYY🥹

user8 you got this y/n/n!!!!

flo_norris_showjumping best of luck for qualifying, let me know how it goes🩷

user2 carlos in the likes again i’m TELLING YOU lando is talking abt y/n to the grid boys

landonorris he’s kind of cute ig

yourusername DOES THIS MEAN YOU’LL MEET HIM

landonorris @/yourusername literally where did i say this

user4 petition for lando to meet mr. bean

f1updates just posted a status ੈ✩‧₊˚

f1updates asked about his growing friendship with showjumper y/n y/l/n, lando said today that the two are ‘just becoming friends’ and ‘don’t have much time to see each other’ now y/n is back in her home county. but sources close to the two say they’ve been facetiming most nights👀

view all 106 comments

user10 everyone leave them alone and let them have their private lives challenge

user11 good! lando should be staying focused on getting good face results. he can’t afford this right now.

user9 thank you! i’ve been saying this for ages!

user3 jobless ppl in the comments he’s a grown man and they’re just friends anyway

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 226,382 others

landonorris p2 quali in home race, and some great company. what could be better🧡

👤 tagged yourusername, oscarpiastri

view all 10,400 comments

user7 WHAT HAPPENED TO BEING TOO BUSY TO HANG OUT MR. NORRIS?!

carlossainz55 well done brother❤️

user3 CARLANDO🥹🥹🥹

user1 y’all weren’t apart for very long i see👀

user5 OSCAR IS SO CUTEEE😭

yourusername 🧡 can’t wait to watch tomorrow

liked by landonorris

user6 SHES GOING TO THE RACE????

williamsracing just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon, yourusername and 52,118 others

williamsracing just call us mr steal your girl👀 @/mclaren

👤tagged yourusername, lilymhe, zoe_albon

view all 2,466 comments

user5 AHAHHA IM HERE FOR MCLAREN VS WILLIAMS

user1 admin i love u so bad rn😭

mclaren @/yourusername how could you?!

yourusername a rock and a hard place…

alex_albon the BETTER team

user4 y/n, lily and zoe all together🥹🥹🥹

landonorris …

user7 OH HES SNDJSJSJS

user9 you deserve better lando!

user1 @/user9 once again, stfu

yourusername answer my text douchebag

yourusername added to their story ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 23,404 others

y/nupdates sending all the luck to @/yourusername and mr. bean today as they compete in the final qualification around for paris 2024!🩷

view all 233 comments

user2 good luck y/n🥹🫶

user5 eeee today is the day!!!!!

user12 came for lando, stayed for y/n. good luck hon!

yourusername thank you guys🥹🩷 hope i can make you proud

a/n: i realise this wasn’t v interesting but… attempting a slow ish burn bc i love pining

taglist for the next updates can be found here!

- giselle xx

[azzibuckets]

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 4/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige and azzi take the next step in their fake relationship

a/n: this one’s pretty long, hopefully it’ll tide y’all over for a bit 💋

word count: 2.6k

masterlist w/ all parts

“I don’t know, I guess we just kinda grew on each other.”

Paige and Azzi stood weakly under the scrunity of their entire team, hands interlocked. Paige hoped the younger girl couldn’t feel the sweat in the palm of her hand. Lying to Geno was no issue, but to her best friends that knew her almost as well as she knew herself? Damn near impossible.

After aggressively interrogating the new “couple” with question after question, the team finally seem somewhat satisfied by their answers and stopped the barrage, leaving Paige and Azzi alone in the locker room.

“Holy hell,” Azzi breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as the last of their teammates left the room. “Good thing we went over our story like a hundred times. That was rough.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t hurt you to practice lying a bit,” she remarked, wiping the sweat off her brow with a Gatorade towel.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek. She hated when Paige made infuriating offhand comments like that, making her feel so inferior without even trying. “I’m sorry I’m just not naturally good at deceiving others,” she snapped.

The other girl stared at her before turning around to rummage through her locker. “I’m carrying most of the weight of this whole act, and you know it.”

The tension between the two of them returned, and they both changed in silence. Azzi mentally kicked herself. They were supposed to be on the same team now. No one on the team would keep on believing their act if her and Paige were always picking fights with each other. She might as well attempt to become friends with Paige, or as close to friends as she could get, so that their plan wouldn’t get ruined.

“Look,” Azzi sighed, breaking the silence, “we should probably like go somewhere and do something together.” Seeing the confused look on Paige’s face, she rushed to forge towards. “Not like a date, you know, but no one’s gonna believe we’re dating if we’re being nasty to each other. We should probably get to know each other and stuff.”

Paige nodded. It seemed like she was understanding Azzi’s idea until she said, “so you wanna get all up on me?”

“Oh my god, Paige-”

Paige’s eyes twinkled in amusement, having gotten the reaction that she wanted. “I’m messing with you. Yeah, that sounds fine.” She checked her watch. “Actually, you free right now?”

Azzi looked at her in surprise. “Why? You wanna go now?”

Paige threw her shoes in her backpack and zipped it up. “The sooner the better, am I right? Your car or mine?”

“I’ll drive,” Azzi offered. She figured she might as well take as much control over the situation as she could. It would be a lot easier for her nerves to quiet down if she had the wheel in her hands, literally and figuratively.

————————

Azzi rolled down her window, trying not to steal too many glances at Paige. They were painfully silent - the only sound in the car was some terrible country music filtering in from the radio. Azzi had initially connected her AUX, but decided that she didn’t want Paige to judge her music taste.

After a few minutes, Paige had had enough. “Bro, can we turn this shit off or play something else?” she begged, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“A please would be nice,” Azzi griped, resisting the urge to turn the volume up louder just to irritate Paige even further.

Paige folded her arms, hitting her head against her seat with an exaggerated thump. “Who even listens to the radio anymore?” she muttered under her breath. “It’s like I’m in a car with my grandma.”

“I’m not putting my playlists on just so you can shit on that too,” Azzi responded dryly.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Paige muttered. Then in a louder voice, “Can I play my music then?”

“We’re almost there. You can’t sit for another two minutes?”

Paige huffed. “Where are you even taking me?” She made a show of looking around their surroundings at the streets.

“Relax, it’s a good spot. They have good tacos.” Azzi smiled at the thought of biting into one of those mouth watering, juicy, shrimp tacos with the lime salsa she loved so much. Even if Paige was being an ass, at least she’d get to eat well.

When they reached the location, Paige was pleasantly surprised. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been this. They were at an outlook on a hill, a little green park with some old town restaurants and stores nestled in the corner. The hill overlooked the city below, the entire atmosphere bathed in a soft pink light from the setting sun.

“Damn,” Paige whistled, taking it all in. “You did good for our first date.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed a light pink and she look away, tucking in one of her braids behind her ear. “This isn’t a date.”

Paige bit her lip. She loved when she got Azzi all flustered. Not because she thought it was cute, Paige reminded herself. She just liked to annoy her. “Oh really? I was gonna pay for your food, but I guess not,” Paige joked, dodging when Azzi tried to hit her.

Paige didn’t really know how the two of them so easily switched between frosty exchanges like the one on the car and then light-hearted moments like these. You guys were fickle.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Both of you had gotten your tacos, and were sitting at one of the picnic tables scattered next to the Mexican joint.

“I mean, we already got our story done.” Azzi carefully drizzled her tacos with salsa. “I think it’s the chemistry part of all it. We have to really sell that we’re dating through our behavior.”

Paige nodded in agreement. “Yeah. But we should probably set up some boundaries first.”

Azzi’s heartbeat quickened at that. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of the extent your fake relationship would go to. She’d already accepted hugging and hand holding and other basic forms of PDA - they wouldn’t be able to sell their act without it. But she shivered at the idea of there ever being a situation where you guys would have to kiss.

“I’m a pretty touchy person,” Paige admitted. “The whole team knows that. So you’re gonna have to deal with a lot of contact, or else they’ll know something’s up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Azzi muttered. Paige looked up at her, studying her with a small smile on her face.

When she kept on smiling, the dark haired girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Paige was full on grinning now, as if Azzi had just the funniest joke ever. “Come here,” she motioned her head to the spot next to her on the bench.

“Go there?” Azzi rumpled her eyebrow quizzically. “My seat right now is perfectly fine, thanks.”

“Don’t be annoying.” Paige said. “Just come here.” Knowing how stubborn she was and that she likely wouldn’t stop bothering her until Azzi agreed, she gave up, pushing her food to the other side of the table and walking around to join Paige.

Easeinf her way onto the seat, she made sure to leave a gap between them. “Now what?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gap inbetween them and she rolled her eyes. “Why are you so far? Come here.” She reached out and wrapped her arm around Azzi’s waist, easily moving her so that the entire sides of their bodies were now flush against each other.

Azzi felt slightly lightheaded, but she blamed the feeling on the fact that she wasn’t a very touchy person in general and wasn’t used to this much contact with anyone in general. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m basically on you?”

“If you wanna sit on my lap, just say so,” Paige teased. When she was met with nothing but raised eyebrows, she said, “We gotta practice the public displays of affection and stuff. It needs to be able to come out of us naturally. We can’t be just be awkwardly holding hands, you know?”

Paige was smarter than Azzi gave her credit for, but she still didn’t like this feeling she was getting, all riled up with her heartbeat quickening from touching Paige. They were so close that Azzi could smell the perfume that the blonde must have sprayed on her neck, all sweet and fragrant.

They ate like that, without a single inch of space between them. It wasn’t as awkward as Azzi had thought it would be. It almost seemed natural, the way their bodies were so intimately pressed together. It was nice, Azzi thought, the warmth of someone next to you. She could understand why some people’s love languages were physical touch.

“Hey, are you Azzi Fudd?” Two giggly girls had approached their table. The one who had spoken had wide eyes and a breathy laugh.

“I am,” Azzi gave them a small smile. She agreed happily when they asked for photos and a signature; she loved UConn fans, and it was nice being recognized out in public every once a while. It made the sweat and tears that she’d dedicated to her sport worth something.

The girls were excitable though, and every time Azzi tried to end the conversation, they brought up another thing. Azzi could feel Paige fidgeting behind her, itching to get away from the curious but increasingly nosy questions of the girls. She tapped her foot against the pavement and sighed loudly. But Azzi ignored her, enjoying Paige’s growing exasperation.

But finally the girls seemed to take a hint, thanking Azzi profusely as they left. She looked over at Paige, who had already started throwing away her food and heading back to the car.

Furrowing her brow, she started to jog after the blonde. “Thanks for waiting,” she joked sarcastically once she caught up. Paige pursed her lips and continued walking, this time at a faster pace. “Are you trying to run away from me? Have you forgotten we’re heading to the same place?” Azzi puffed out, trying to keep up.

“You know, people don’t usually spend half of a date talking to someone who isn’t their date,” Paige responded, the harshness in her tone catching Azzi off guard.

Then realization dawned on her. Paige Bueckers was jealous. It surprised her somewhat - everyone knew Paige enjoyed being the center of attention. She just didn’t know that Paige could be jealous when it came to her attention. And she didn’t necessarily hate it.

“Hold up, Bueckers.” Azzi’s lips quirked up. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Paige snorted. “You wish. It’s just that the whole point of coming here was to work out any holes in our plan, yet we didn’t discuss it at all.” She sped up even faster, and Azzi grabbed her elbow, forcing her to spin around to face her.

“Are you mad?” Azzi asked, amusement still lingering in her eyes. When Paige didn’t respond, she stepped closer, brushing a blonde strand behind her ear. “Did you wanna practice, Paige?” She said, voice a whisper now. Deciding to have a little fun, Azzi let her gaze drop down to Paige’s lips before looking up at her through her lashes.

Paige visibly swallowed, and Azzi relished in the effect she was having on the girl. She was used to making Paige mad, making her voice rise and cheeks flush in frustration, but she could get used to this - making Paige nervous, making her heart race.

“Practice what?” Paige rasped out. Her eyes were focused on Azzi’s lips, so Azzi wet her bottom lip, letting her tongue slowly run over.

“You know,” Azzi purred, now bringing her hand up to run her fingers up Paige’s bicep. She danced her fingertips Paige’s skin, not letting it stay in one place for too long.

Paige exhaled, moving to bring Azzi closer to her before Azzi burst out with a laugh. “Oh my god,” she cackled. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

Paige stepped back, her jaw clenched. If Azzi didn’t know better, she would think that Paige looked hurt, with her eyebrows dipped down and expression rigid, but she brushed it off. There was no way Paige cared enough about kissing her to actually be disappointed.

“I guess my flirting skills are getting pretty good, eh?” Azzi teased, but the other girl didn’t even look at her. This continued the entire way home, Paige staying silent while staring out the window, their dynamic now back to its fluctuating state.

“Are you mad or something?” Azzi asked once she had parked outside of Paige’s apartment. Paige ignored her, trying to open the door. Azzi smirked as she saw Paige struggle with the handle before realizing that she’d turned child lock on.

Giving up, the taller girl crossed her arms. “No.”

“Then why are you being all moody? Is this cuz I was flirting with you?”

Paige sucked in a breath, her cheeks hollowed. “What do you want me to say?” It was a genuine question, because even Paige wasn’t sure of why she was feeling like this. Her entire body had thrummed when Azzi had looked at her lips, and for some unknown reason she’d wanted to bring Azzi closer, to see what she tasted like. It was completely and wholly alien. Up until now the only thing she’d wanted to do to Azzi was bounce a basketball off the side of her head. And now Azzi’s pretty pink mouth was stuck in her head, had been burning in her mind the entire ride back.

Azzi shrugged, and that’s when Paige decided to take back the wheel. “You were right, actually. We should practice kissing,” she announced, feeling satisfied once Azzi’s eyes widened.

“Why?” Azzi stuttered.

Paige leaned over the console, a fiery look in her eyes. “You were all confident back at the park. What happened?” She challenged.

Azzi swallowed her nervousness. Cocking her chin, she said “I’m just scared you might pass out. You were a little bit too disappointed back there when I pushed you away.”

The girls’ eyes locked in a staring contest, both of them refusing to back down.

Until Paige opened her mouth, and blurted out, “I’m going to kiss you.” Azzi stared at the older girl, shocked by the abrupt bluntness of her statement. They both continued to look at each other, and when Azzi didn’t say anything, Paige leaned in, pressing her lips to hers.

Instinctively, Azzi brought her hand up to Paige’s cheek, and Paige tilted her head slightly, leaning into her warm touch. Paige’s lips parted, and Azzi took that opportunity to brush her tongue against hers.

It was like everything was moving in slow motion. Paige couldn’t even believe that she was kissing Azzi, the girl she’d gotten into more arguments with than she’d ever had with all of her teammates combined. Azzi, who always made her head spin and blood pressure rise. Azzi, who was annoyingly good at basketball, who knew how to get under her skin and press her sensitive spots. Except now she wanted Azzi to press different sensitive spots.

Paige was gentle and her lips so much softer than Azzi had expected. As they kissed, she let her fingers slip into Paige’s hair, feeling its soft silkiness. Her nails scraped Paige’s scalp, eliciting a soft groan from the blonde’s lips.

After what seemed like forever, they broke apart, panting and staring at each other in disbelief. Azzi licked her lips, now swollen, studying Paige, whose pupils were dilated and hair slightly mussed up from Azzi’s hands. Paige’s eyes, so pretty and blue, fluttered closed for a second before she reached for the handle of the car. “It’s getting late,” she swallowed. “I should probably go.”

Without a word, Azzi unlocked the car, watching as Paige hurriedly gathered her things and left. She walked briskly away with her head down, not looking back once. Once she’d disappears into the building of her apertment, Azzi groaned, letting her forehead rest against the wheel. What the fuck had they just done?

[pedrithink]

opposites attract ✩ kylian mbappé

KYLIAN MBAPPÉ X READER

where there is golden retriever! kylian and his black cat girlfriend.

faceclaim: lily rose

Liked by ethanmbappe, ynusername, and 2,363 others

ynkyliannews Y/N was spotted in a cafe in Paris. She looks marvelous 🥰 @ynusername

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mbappegirl look… i love y/n, but she should smile more.

⤷ psgfan yeah, this gives a bad image to kylian too…

ynfan1 she looks fantastic, omg!!!

mrsmbappe why is she always so serious? 😭

kyliangf she is beautiful, too bad that her way of being makes it seem that she is rude

ynfan2 love u gf

Liked by k.mbappe, neymarjr, and 217,728 others

ynusername le temps de l'amour

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k.mbappe You look amazing 😍🤤🔥🔥

ynfan1 DAMN MAMA

mbappegirl GIRL WHY U NEVER SMILE

ynfan2 we love you!!!!!!

forkyky you all the time: 😐

ethanmbappe 🖤✨

Liked by ynusername and 1,273 others

ynkyliannews Y/N was spotted having dinner with a friend. @ynusername

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mbappegirl she never smiles like that when she is with kylian 🫢

mrsmbappe nah, for real… kylian deserves a person who treats him better.

ynfan1 y/n and kylian have always had a private relationship, she doesn't need to be smiling to show that she makes him happy

psgfan c’mon…

forkyky 🤔

kyliangf kylian is not the problem in this relationship and we all know that…

Liked by ynusername, leomessi, and 3,584,026 others

k.mbappe De retour avec mes bébés maintenant.🇫🇷🥳

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mbappegirl how can this BABY date that girl? 😭

mrsmbappe she doesn’t even comment on his posts, omg! 🫠

psgfan playing break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored

ynfan1 KYLIAN WE WANT A COUPLE PIC

⤷ forkyky we don’t want a pic, we want him to break up.

⤷ ynfan1 @forkyky shut up

tchaga_ ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Liked by k.mbappe, ynusername, and 4,268 others

ynkyliannews Kylian looks so cute in this photoshoot. 🥺

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mbappegirl let’s protect him for his own girlfriend 😭

ynfan1 y’all always act like she’s forcing him to date her, leave her alone!!!!

forkyky he’s such a cute and kind person, can’t say the same about his gf

ynfan2 why do you hate y/n so much? everyone has different personality

mbappemine if kylian is with her it's because she makes him happy, so as fas we must respect and support him.

Liked by ynusername, k.mbappe, and 107.827 others

ynkyliannews Lately I've only been reading absurd comments about Y/N and I came to say that in these two years of relationship, they've always been VERY happy together. Kylian has always been honest about his feelings and i'm sure if she was mean to him they wouldn't be together. Y/N was with him through the worst and best moments of his life, always supporting him and making him smile. That's her way of being and it's not you who have to dictate how she should or shouldn't be.

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mbappemine SPILL!!!!!!

ynfan1 THANK YOU!

ynfan2 thank you for talking about this because people talked like she treated kylian poorly

mbappeyours kylian shared this on his story 🫣

kyksbaby i hope she’s fine :( she looks so cute!!!!!

Liked by ethanmbappe, jkeey4, and 5,346,728 others

k.mbappe I heard about some comments going around about Y/N and I was disappointed to read some. This woman was by my side in my saddest moments and happiest moments, many times she is the starting point for all my peaks of uninterrupted happiness. We always had a private relationship, but I say here with all the certainty in the world that I am very happy next to this amazing, loving and generous woman. I honestly, truly, completely love her.

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ynusername you know i'm not good with words, but the only thing that matters to me is that you know how much i love you and how important you are to me. i love you in ways i have never loved anyone else.

mbappemine so happy for you guys :(

kyksbaby your happiness is what matters to us

ynfan1 kylian killing his own “fans”, as he should.

mbappeyours we will always support both of you 💗

ethanmbappe dopest person everrrr 🔥 love you sis

jkeey4 she’s fire 🥳🔥

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 12: Is This You?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of death

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies @marshmallowgem @ang3lc @angelina16torres-blog @transparentenemypenguin @alilstressyandlotdepressy @josephquinnsfreckles @plk-18

A/N: This is going to upset a lot of y’all for possibly two reasons but trust me it hurt my heart to even write it, but I still hope you enjoy✨

“So what did you think of the class?” “It was…good…nice yeah…you looked good…really uhm good…yeah…” “thank you….but I meant did you think it helped you at all?” “Oh right…yes…I did uh…learn some good stuff and I think if I took a few more classes I’d feel a little better about uhm…being home…alone more.” “Well you’re more than welcome to come to the next one or…even just a regular kick boxing class if you’re interested?” “Oh that sounds fun…uh where…are we going? This is-” “where I grew up…” “you grew up here?” “Yup…right…here actually…” “it looks nice…is that the van you’ve been working on?” “Yeah that’s her…she’s nearly done…would you like to go inside?” “Oh uhm yeah yeah…let’s go.”

“This isn’t what I was expecting the inside of this trailer to look like.” “I had it upgraded last year…but something tells me you would’ve liked the way it looked originally…” “how did it look? Not that this isn’t nice…it’s very well done whoever did it-” “I did…I didn’t want anyone else to mess with it…so I just did it when I had time….took me a while but it was worth it.” “You like doing things yourself don’t you?” “Only important things…like this…and the van…” “and Dave…you fixed him yourself.” “Well he’s pretty important isn’t he?” “I think so…but you really grew up here? Was it just you and your parents?” “Me and my dad yeah…Wayne.” “Wayne? That’s a good name for a dad…I like that name.” “It is a good name isn’t it? That’s why I named the garage after him…it felt like a name people would trust leaving their car at…he was a great mechanic…taught me everything I know.” “I agree…naming the garage Wayne’s Auto Shop was a smart choice…that’s a huge reason why I started taking Dave there.” “That makes sense…I think you and him would’ve gotten along really well.” “How long has he uhm….been gone?” “About three years…but uh feel free to take a look around…” “Okay…I have your permission to be nosey?” “Yes…open all the drawers and snoop through all the cabinets you want to sweetheart it’s fine.” “If you say so…”

“Eddie?…Eddie is this…is this you?” “Oh yeah…yeah that’s me and the Hellfire club from high school…you know a few of those kids like that’s…Dustin…and Mike…and Lucas.” “That’s cool and all but is that your hair that’s down to your shoulders?” “Yeah…I used to have long hair for a while until I got tired of wearing it up for work so I just cut it….why do you look like you want to cry?” “You had…this beautiful hair and you just chopped it off?” “I mean I can grow it out again if…you want? I just got tired of it and wanted a change that’s all.” “You’d grow it out for me? Really?” “It’s just hair sweetheart…if you want it long then sure…I’ll let it get long…where did you find this picture anyway?” “In the back bedroom…can I ask…what are we doing here?…really?” “Uh well…I know you don’t feel comfortable being alone at your house…because of William and…I wanted to show you this place because if you want…you could…move in…” “I could move in here?” “If you want? William doesn’t know this place even exists so you’d be perfectly safe…not that you aren’t safe at your house now but I just want you to feel comfortable being alone…so just know this is an option if you want it.” “This is huge Eddie I couldn’t just…move in here…this is your house.” “Baby does it look like anyone lives here?” “No but…this is where you grew up and you probably have tons of memories here and-” “I do…I have lots of great memories of living here…but I took those memories with me when I moved out a long time ago…so now you can come in and make some of your own…in a place that you feel comfortable and safe in…because I know everyone in this park so trust me…you’ll be safe here.” “I’ll think about it…” “okay…that’s totally fine take all the time you need.”

“So…this is the van huh? She’s nice…smells like weed in the back though…” “That’s probably because I used to drive this around to make drug deals at house parties and offered customers the back seat to get high in for an extra fee.” “Ah so you’ve always been a business man then?” “Oh yeah….I’ve always found a way to make a living..now I just do it legally.” “Steven told me you used to be an asshole….is that true?” “I was an angry teenager…I used to be mean to people before they got the chance to be mean to me so yeah…I was an asshole.” “I can’t imagine you being mean on purpose…” “Well good thing you didn’t know me back then sweetheart because I probably would’ve made you cry…Wayne always used to get on my ass about the way I treated girls…” “really? But you’re…you’re so…amazing?” “Now I am…because I finally became the man I was meant to be instead of the one I thought I wanted to be…” “and that’s because of Wayne?” “Yeah…we had a rough few years right before I graduated high school…I used to just yell at him and he’d stand there and take it…and then he’d just hold me while I cried and told him I was sorry…he always used to tell me he knows the man I can be if I’d only stop fighting it…so I just…stopped fighting it.” “Well thank god for Wayne because…I quite like the man you are right now…” “yeah…thank god for Wayne…ready to go sweetheart?” “Yeah…I’m ready…thanks for bringing me here Eddie.” “You’re welcome…thanks for listening.” “Anytime…I like listening to you talk about your dad and your wild high school days.”