#���ness writes

[bluelockmaniac]

˖⋆࿐໋ "PLEASE, COME BACK."

★ ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, don lorenzo, oliver aiku, isagi yoichi & otoya eita (honourable mentions). synopsis. your ex-partners are desperate for you and need you back.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 content warning. general: pet names (princess, baby, etc). sae: suggestive. ness: mentions of stalking, obsessive, creepy ngl. reo: parental humiliation, mother reader. oliver: cheating (duh), he gets slapped lmfao.

notes. total word count: 3.3k !! , angsty ? fem!reader .

୨ৎ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

rainy days were the worst, you mused bitterly, recalling how rin had chosen a stormy day, much akin to this, to break things off with you.

you sneezed into your elbow, feeling the tiny droplets of water cascade down, peppering your bare skin relentlessly. you shivered as you sat on a random bench in the nearest park, regretting your decision to skip checking the weather app today.

wrapping your arms around yourself, cold and damp, you anxiously waited for a certain someone to pick you up.

suddenly, the freezing, stinging sensation of the raindrops on your skin ceased. you noticed a pair of legs in front of you and tilted your head up, meeting the familiar gaze of the man you had once called yours. his arm was outstretched, holding an umbrella above your head.

“y/n…” rin's voice was quiet, barely audible over the splattering rain.

your eyes widen, quickly darting down to stare at your empty lap. your fingers gripped the bench tightly. "hi," you mumbled, the word barely escaping your lips. this was probably the first time he had ever initiated a conversation with you; in your past relationship, that had always been your role. what was he doing here, anyway?

as if reading your mind, he spoke up awkwardly, “i just finished my afternoon jog…” he paused, shuffling his feet slightly. “do you want a ride?”

you finally looked up at him again, shaking your head subtly. “no, thank you... i'm waiting for someone right now.”

“ah, i see.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. he internally cursed himself for his clumsy attempt and for possibly making things worse by asking in the first place.

a few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between you, but when the tension was too unbearable to handle, he broke the silence.

“i'm… fuck, i'm sorry, okay?” he lowered his head, biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. “for everything in the past. for always ignoring you and neglecting you... if you want, we can–”

the loud honking sound of a car in the distance caught the attention of both you and rin. his brows furrowed in confusion as you stood up and walked a few steps towards the car, throwing him a faint smile.

“ah, it seems like my boyfriend is here.”

୨ৎ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

by no means was your relationship with sae horrible; in fact, it was quite the opposite. he consistently spoiled you with gifts and favourite snacks, treated you better than his teammates and the public, and always made you feel like the only girl in the universe.

so why had you both mutually agreed to call things off? the challenges of a long-distance relationship became overwhelming.

his frequent travels abroad for football games and the substantial timezone difference made regular communication difficult. every time you called, he would be asleep, and by the time you woke up, you’d see numerous missed calls from him.

nonetheless, it was safe to say that there were still lingering feelings between you both.

you sat down on your plush couch, turning on the television. immediately, the exclusive football channel that your tv always seemed to be tuned into appeared, and this time, it featured a live interview with your ex-boyfriend.

“sae…” you whispered softly upon seeing him.

it seemed as though the interviewer had already wrapped up the important questions, and was now delving into more personal topics.

“thank you, itoshi-san. next question, is there anything in particular that you enjoy doing?”

the football prodigy rolled his eyes and sighed audibly. with a blank expression, he replied, “my girlfriend.”

you felt your face heat up at the suggestive implication, pressing your hands to your warming cheeks– he had never had a girlfriend besides you and had promised he wouldn’t date anyone else. he was talking about you.

to make matters worse for your fragile heart, sae stared right into the camera lens with a subtle smirk, as if he knew you would be watching. the shallow stirring in your heart has confirmed what you already feared: you hadn’t gotten over him, and you knew you never would.

silence louder than a roaring engine filled the enclosure, before the interviewer broke the awkward stillness. “... s-sorry?” the lady was clearly caught off-guard, blinking at him once, twice.

sae scoffed impatiently, “did you not hear me the first time?”

“a-ah, yes, of course.” the woman stammered quickly, trying to recover her professionalism. “you... enjoy doing your girlfriend, yes.”

“used to,” he muttered under his breath, but the interviewer caught it.

“oh, i'm sorry,”

“yeah.”

unfortunately, the lady decided to press on, pushing her luck to pry more information from him. “so, itoshi-san, why did you break up with your girlfriend? could you provide your fans more information regarding your love li–”

he frowned deeply, shoving his hands into his pockets and abruptly standing up to leave, his manager pathetically following behind him. “shut up. you're annoying, leave me alone, ugly.”

later that day, you received a text message from sae.

'i need you back asap. i can help you settle here in spain and i'll pay for the plane ticket and shit.'

you would have never responded so quickly to a single text message had you still been in the long distance relationship. but, you still had a life here– your family, your childhood memories. you hesitated, leaving him on read for now, until you could think of something to reply with later.

a few weeks passed.

୨ৎ 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

in a way, you blame yourself for thinking you could play the ‘i can change him,’ game. despite this, your efforts, though minimal, were somehow significant. he became increasingly dependent on you, seeking your comfort whenever he was upset over a game or haunted by memories of his harsh past.

he particularly loved resting his head on your comfortable lap as you raked your fingers through his blond hair, or when you kissed the tattoo on his neck, assuring him that everything would be okay.

but it had become exhausting. too repetitive. irritating, even. his daily venting sessions had taken a toll on your mental well-being, and you simply could not bear it any longer. 

unfortunately, the breakup ended on bad terms, with both of you hurling insults and belittling each other.

you happened to run into him at the airport. quickly, you shifted your gaze away, hoping that he had not taken notice of you. but luck seemed to mock you, and you could already hear his distinctive footsteps approaching.

"hey," he said nonchalantly, tapping on your shoulder to get your attention. “look at me, talk to me.”

your expression wavered as you hesitantly met his gaze, pursing your lips unsurely. “hi, michael,” you muttered softly.

a shallow line etched between his brows. “michael? you know that's not my name. say it properly.”

“it's not micha anymore, though,” you retorted, turning and walking toward the airplane boarding aisle as the passenger announcement was made.

“tch,” he scoffed, quickly making his way to his team, who were boarding the plane from the exclusive gate reserved for the elite football team of bastard münchen.

it was unfortunate that he had to board the same plane as you, but this was just a layover for you- you still had another flight to take before reaching your final destination.

closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the circular window, drifting off to sleep. when you slowly opened your eyes, however, you were not met with the kind gaze of the old lady who had been sitting next to you.

instead, you found yourself staring into a pair of cerulean eyes. he rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on the armrest, watching you intently.

instantly, your eyes flutter fully open and a hurried gasp escaped your lips. “m-michael, you scared me,” you stuttered.

he rolled his eyes, turning his gaze away. “the old hag was more than happy to sit in the exclusive seats section,” he muttered simply. 

“i still haven't forgiven you,” he added, his eyes darting back to you. “but, fuck, come back already. stop being so stubborn.”

you sighed softly, taking his hands in yours. “michael, your rants aggravated my own anger issues. it literally wasn't good for my mental and emotional health.”

he mumbled something incoherent under his breath. when the plane finally descended one minute later, kaiser stood up, opening the overhead compartment above your seat, and handed you your two small suitcases.

placing his hand on your cheek, he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “...don't block my number. i still want to see you. and talk to you.”

you nodded reluctantly, thanking him for the suitcases. as you looked at him once more before walking away, you spoke softly,

“please, consider going to therapy, micha.”

୨ৎ 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

what's better than returning home, exhaustion from work gnawing at your bones, only to find your ex-boyfriend lounging comfortably on a couch in your living room as if he owned the place?

you froze mid-step, breath catching in your throat. “alexis, what the fuck?” you spat angrily.

“y/n!” he immediately sprang up, his face lighting up alarmingly as he flashes you an innocent smile.

he casually strides towards you– as if he had no concept of personal space– and holds up a familiar DVD case. “schatz, remember this? i thought we could watch it, since i remember it was your favourite…”

your pulse quickened, instinctively stepping back. but, ness intercepted, possessively coiling his arms around you and enveloping you in a firm hug. his grip tightened slightly as you attempted to withdraw– but he was careful not to hurt you.

ness buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “you'll watch it with me, won't you?” he smiled, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"alexis, how the fuck did you even get in?" you demanded, mustering the strength to break free and pry his arms off, snatching the remote and turning off the television.

he pouted, "i had the spare key you gave me! now won't you—"

“you're just as creepy and obsessive as ever,” you shot back, feeling intruded and unsettled, “there's a reason i broke up with you.”

his expression crumbled and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “d-don't say that, remember all the good times we had? we belong together!” his voice quivered with desperation as he leaned pathetically against the wall.

“yeah, i thought so too,” you countered, “until i caught you, lurking in the corner of my eye, watching me with a friend at the mall.” you gestured towards the door. “leave, now, and give me back the damned key.”

tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he reluctantly handed back the key. his fingers lingered against yours for a moment longer than necessary. he stepped out of your apartment and threw a weak smile at you over his shoulder. he whispers, “i love you, and i always will.”

you slammed the door shut.

୨ৎ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

you heard the doorbell ring as you were occupied with chopping tiny pieces of carrots for your young daughter. with a sigh, you set down the knife on the cutting board, wiping your hands on your apron and reluctantly heading towards the door.

there was no need to check the peephole; you instinctively knew it was your ex-husband, reo.

his monthly visits to hand over the child support had become a begrudgingly predictable routine. you swung the door open, and immediately, his desperate gaze met yours.

“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off with an uninterested glare.

“she's on the play mat in the living room. put the check on the table.” you said indifferently, already turning back toward the kitchen. before you could take a step, his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist. it's nothing you didn't expect, however; it happened every single month.

“reo, let go,” your voice was firm yet tired.

“baby, please,” he insisted, pulling you towards his chest and embracing you tightly. you felt the warmth of his body against yours, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “i miss you. i really do. do you know how painful it is for me to slowly watch you become a stranger?”

you remained motionless for a moment before shaking your head, gently pushing him away. “no... just no,” you asserted softly, “your parents always humiliated me during our marriage— whether it be in front of guests at social events or large family dinners. i've never felt enough. and worse, you've always ignored it.”

his face twisted into one of guilt as he attempted to draw you back into his embrace. “i promise i'll–”

“reo!” your strangled voice accidentally yells out. “put the check on the table and leave!” the words leave your mouth impulsively in frustration.

you quickly brought a hand to your mouth, then clutched your chest, taking a deep breath to calm yourself as tears welled up in your eyes. in a quieter tone, you pleaded, “reo, please, just leave…”

albeit reluctantly, he complied, retreating with a heavy heart. but, as per the habitual routine, he returned the next month, pleading for your forgiveness and begging to be taken back.

୨ৎ 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

dating nagi was tedious, and even that was an understatement.

"seishiro, i'm seriously considering blocking you if keep calling me every single day, begging me to take you back."

you exasperated, frustration clear as you sat on your bed with the phone on speaker, going through your nighttime skincare routine. you could hear nagi exhale deeply on the other end.

“... 'mm, angel, please,” he whined, his voice growing louder and more desperate. “i miss you, i'm all alone, my apartment's a mess and—”

you scoff, tossing the moisturizer tube onto your bed as you swabbed some onto your face. “your apartment's a mess? i wonder why that is… almost like your girlfriend was doing all the work around the house for you?”

a soft, frustrated groan escaped his lips at your sarcasm. he swallowed hard, his voice cracking, “listen, baby, 'm sorry for takin' you for granted, i want you back in my arms, i want to cuddle w'you like we used to. please, forgive me.”

a long pause hung heavy in the air, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited for your reply, hoping that you'd use what's left of your love for him–if any–to forgive him and return. with a tired sigh, you finally spoke up.

“... no, seishiro. i'm tired. being with you felt like a chore, to be honest. i was the one looking after you– making sure you ate your breakfast and lunch, doing your laundry that's scattered everywhere in your apartment, even reminding you to get off your video games. i'm not your mother...”

you let out all your pent-up frustration once and for all, hoping this would finally put an end to his persistent calls. it was clear you had reached your limit, knowing deep down that you deserved someone who appreciated your time and effort. 

“seriously, why don't you get yourself a maid? dating you was a hassle.”

you stated firmly before hanging up on him.

“dammit, angel…” nagi sighed defeatedly, his slumped body flopping down onto his bed. he lazily tossed his phone aside, feeling drained and overwhelmed. “i'm too tired for this.”

୨ৎ 𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐎

“pleaase, come backkk,”

great. the last thing you had wanted today was to run into your ex as you stood in line at the popcorn stand. you wished the ground below you would rupture and swallow you whole as he clung onto you shamelessly, drawing the attention of those around you.

“please, baby, i need you!” he whined. you felt the embarrassment from his dramatic display heat up your cheeks, shifting uncomfortably as you mouthed apologetic words to the vendor lady.

“stop it, get off me, you're embarrassing me!” you hissed softly, trying to push his head away. his grip was too strong, maintaining his hold on you as his grin widened, revealing his shiny set of golden teeth.

“only if you get back with me?” he bargained, stepping back anyway as he sensed your growing irritation (and embarrassment).

you crossed your arms, shooting him an accusatory glare. “no way in hell. and you don't need me— you were after my money all along, weren't you?”

“t-that's... come on, don't be like that,” he stammered, his face paling as he avoided eye contact.

“you've only ever seen me as your personal walking credit card, hm?” you continued, “thank you, you've drained me of all my money.”

he watched as you received your medium-sized popcorn bucket, thanking the vendor with a polite nod before turning to leave. the lady called out his name, his own popcorn waiting on the counter, still unpaid for.

his head snaps back to you, that absurd, signature smirk curling on his lips, “wait, y/n, aren't you going to p–”

without turning to face him, you muttered under your breath, “no, i'm not paying for your popcorn.”

୨ৎ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

you felt a large pair of hands gently rest on your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze. you stopped swirling your glass of wine, tilting your head up to meet a pair of beautiful, heterochromic eyes.

unfortunately, those eyes belonged to your fucking cheater of an ex.

“don't touch me, jerk,” you spat, cocking your head back down as you brought the glass to your lips and took a sip of the crimson drink.

he chuckled lowly, patting your head before shamelessly taking a seat beside you. wrapping his arm around the backrest of the sofa, he pulled you closer.

“c’mon, princess, don't be like that,” he winked, taking a sip of his own drink. he paused as he took in your irritated expression. “...are you really still mad at what happened a year ago?”

you shot him a dirty glare, and he immediately raised his hands in front of him in mock surrender. “sorry, sorry, i was only kidding.”

you finally downed the wine, standing up from the soft comfort of the sofa. before you could move away, his fingers encircled your wrist, pulling you back onto the couch, causing you to lean onto him with your hand on his chest.

“okay, but seriously, baby,” he said, delicately gripping your chin between his fingers and leaning in until his lips hovered right above yours. “i really messed up, i'm sorry, i swear she didn't mean anything, you're the one for m–”

“what the fuck do you think you're doing?!” you yelled, slapping his cheek hard enough to whip his head toward the dance floor where numerous women in skimpy outfits were dancing. his gaze lingered on their movements for a while before he felt you pulling away from him.

“yeah, i'm sure you're toootally torn up about it, huh?” you scoffed sarcastically, “keep your eyes wandering, i can see you're overflowing with regret.”

“baby, i only care for y–”

“your sincerity is blinding.”

˗ˏˋ 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 ˎˊ˗

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 would never push you to the point of discomfort or pressure. instead, he’d approach you casually, genuinely apologizing for any past incidents that might have upset you enough to end things. if you both decided on a mutual break up, then he would definitely try to preserve your relationship to at least that of friends. his main focus would be rebuilding trust between you two, hoping that time and space would allow you both to reconcile in the future. overall, it would be very unlikely for him to verbally express how desperate he is for you, but subtle physical touches are a different topic.

𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐀 would literally show up at your doorstep, begging on his knees for you. he'd be desperately pleading for your forgiveness– he really didn't want to reveal that he had initially been dating you because of a dare, or rather, a bet from his friends. it just slipped out forcefully. he just really, really, really needed that ps5. despite the bet, his feelings for you had genuinely developed over the five-month dating period. however… to earn that prize, he was required to expose his original intent, resulting in heartbreaks, tears, insults, and many “i hate you”s from your side.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

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

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

word count — 8k

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

That’s all you know about him. 

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

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

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

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

 It’s a simple gesture, kind.

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

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

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

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

However, tonight was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, sleep comes easy after that.

–

But, it doesn’t stay that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, neighbor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I ask a question?"

Joel nods.

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

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

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

When you don’t respond he answers your question.

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

“Oh.”

“It’s on the mailbox.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Next week is the same, his house suspiciously dark. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask?” 

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

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

Well. 

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

“Oh, that’s…”

“Not interesting at all, I know.”

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

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

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

“You are not old, Joel. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart, you gotta pay attention—“

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

“Where’d you go?”

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

“Oh—just, kinda spaced out, I guess?”

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

“Baby, you really gotta be more careful.”

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

“I promise. It won’t happen again.”

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

-

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

But, things feel different.

“So, I’ve got a surprise.”

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

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

“It’s not really my thing, sugar—”

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

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

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

One for him…a couple for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It ain’t going nowhere.”

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

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

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

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

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

Commendable? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely.

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

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

“Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?”

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

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

“Joel, that is insanely fucking good.”

“Sweetheart—”

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

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

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

“Joel, shut up.”

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

“It’s just a hobby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really askin’ my opinion?”

Of course. I bought it for you. 

“Do you have one?” You say instead.

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

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

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

“Y‘alright?” 

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

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

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

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

“You nervous or something?”

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

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

“You don’t make me nervous, Joel.”

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

“What is it then?”

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

Touch me. Make it better. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah, yes.”

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

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

The baby rings through your head like a warning bell. 

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

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

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

You nod to his question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you fuck me?” 

“Can I—sweetheart, you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course that was the ultimatum.

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

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

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

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

“We can—we can do this again, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, same time next week?”

“Deal, sweetheart.”

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

And frankly, neither do you.

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

[heartmaddie]

talk to me in your love language! bllk boys; kaiser , rin , reo , ness

(part 2; isagi , bachira , sae , nagi)

michael kaiser ₊˚⊹ ᰔ : words of affirmation ! and acts of service (??)

there’s a void in kaiser’s life in terms of love, so it’s very difficult for him to open up to somebody entirely because he would let his insecurities consume him. he considers himself very vulnerable, which is why he has that front of high self-worth and defence because he’s afraid of letting somebody see him as ‘weak’ again.

kaiser would have to incontrovertibly love somebody to even consider a relationship, and when he’s in one then he’d treat them with the utmost respect, he would be extremely needy. he needs that reassurance that his partner loves him and would never hurt him - physically or mentally. he needs verbal reassurance because it would be the easiest for him to process & understand, but he shows his love to them in more tangible ways, through the way he treats them compared to other people. his biggest fear is becoming like his father and he needs that reassurance that he's not.

kaiser doesn’t like to do things for anybody, he’ll treat it as a chore unless it’s for his partner. he’ll wake up a bit earlier to make them breakfast and he’ll go out of his way to change his schedule for his partner. but he would get so embarrassed if somebody pointed it out lol. he would enjoy tending to his partner, like helping them bathe & he would ensure to be insanely careful because he doesn’t want them to get hurt the way he was.

rin itoshi ₊˚⊹ ᰔ : physical touch!!, but also acts of service

rin wouldn’t actively seek out a relationship, he prefers things to come together naturally, which is why he was slightly embarrassed when he realised his feelings for his childhood best friend were a bit more than platonic. he would feel extremely guilty and nervous around them until they noticed in less than a month. rin was very relieved when they liked him back because he thought that he could only build that sort of connection with one person, which was them.

rin was clingy when he was younger, they were his only friend alongside sae. so when his brother left for spain, rin became significantly more reliant on his friend, he would enjoy activities like holding their hand and stroking their hair. once rin started to despise his brother, he started using physical touch as a more tangible way to share his affection with his partner & the way he held them now seemed more possessive because he needed the reassurance that they wouldn’t abandon him the way that sae did.

rin has a very individualistic mindset, he prefers small things in his daily life to be consistent. regardless, he doesn’t mind tweaking his schedule ever so slightly to cater to the needs of his partner, and he’ll happily skip a morning run if it means basking in their presence for a little bit longer. even when they were younger, rin would act like this, he has always just wanted them to be as safe as possible so he’ll subconsciously move to walk on the roadside of the path or he’ll have their arm wrapped around his so he can easily tug them towards him when walking past someone he considers unsafe.

reo mikage ₊˚⊹ ᰔ : leaning towards receiving gifts, but also words of affirmation

reo would be a good boyfriend, but in previous relationships, his affection was monopolised and many people dated him solely for material benefits such as gifts and status. he trusts too easily, which is one of his main weaknesses in terms of love. he appreciates a genuine connection with somebody who he can be devoted to without having to worry about being manipulated or used.

reo has always been expected to be the provider in all his other relationships, he’s had to spoil people with expensive restaurants and designer gifts, which is why it was a pleasant surprise to be spontaneously gifted something by his new partner. he found it refreshing - not needing to be the one to splurge on his significant other for no reason whatsoever. reo would be so grateful, cherishing and keeping every small gift close to his heart, he’ll install little shelves in his room to decorate his living space.

reo is the most observant person, especially for his partner. he takes time just simply watching them do mundane activities, utterly absorbed until he figures out the most imaginative compliment ever and they’ll just be a bit stunned for a couple moments. reo would find pride in understanding his partner beyond his ability because he wants somebody to put in the same effort for him. reo would be utterly entranced & dedicated to his partner, he would assure them every day that he would never consider somebody else even if they weren’t too insecure.

alexis ness ₊˚⊹ ᰔ : mainly words of affirmation (obviously!) but also quality time

ness would still tend to associate that ‘subservient’ attitude with love at the beginning of his relationship. he would try to treat them as somebody above him, which is why throughout their relationship, his partner would teach him how to respect & love himself before them, but he still has that loyalty engraved into him deep.

since he was young, ness associated verbal affection with love because it’s simply something he watched other children receive and not him, which is why in a relationship he becomes quite yearnful for them to reassure him that they love and truly appreciate him. he would go out of his way to achieve their validation, doing tasks/errands for them until they assure him that they’ll happily shower him in praise and affection whenever he needs it - not just because he had worked for it.

again linking it back to his childhood, he was always alone & hated that feeling, so he feels the need to always be around his partner so they don’t experience those emotions too. he enjoys doing activities alone with his partner such as watching movies at home, doing puzzles, and decorating cakes. ness associates love with time spent with his partner, so he likes to fill his free time up with doing small, but meaningful activities with them. although, he still enjoys small day trips/travelling with them because he wants to experience life holistically with his partner.

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

(just some small character analysis' - please reblog if you enjoyed.)

[hellsslibrary]

i saw that you write smau and... reader sends nudes to the character? or vice versa, as you want, with bllk. do whoever you want I just want m reader yea

"Oh, photo from my beloved... Oh, THAT kind of photo".

#a.n. : DON'T ASK where I was. Our honeymoon with my husband dragged on too long, I literally managed to get sick, recover, then I had to take my husband to Greece, as he wanted, there my Internet decided not to work. In short, we lived luxuriously, and we had a great rest. I hope everything is just wonderful with you too! I will slowly return, because we are home, and I will start with something small, because I am passing out and I want to sleep. 🌻

Characters: Reo, Rin, Sae, Chigiri, Kaiser, Ness.

!!Warnings: top!male!reader, these conversations are VERY weird (especially with the Itoshi brothers), I wrote them without sleeping for four days, don't ask, they're kind of funny, so it's okay. The reader is simp (as you should), nude photos, teasing in this way, promise of something more, mention of sex toys (Reo), sex on a mat (Kaiser), Ness adores you too much, Chigiri teases you A LOT, joke about 'daddy Sae' in Sae's part (sorry), mention of pregnancy in Rin's part (sorry 0.2).

Parts: first (you're here), second, third(later, maybe more parts if you want).

Reo Mikage.

Sae Itoshi.

Rin Itoshi.

Chigiri Hyoma.

Michael Kaiser.

Alexis Ness.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

THERE'S ALWAYS MORE // ON HEALING

Mandy Hale // 小年的你 Better Days (2019) dir. Derek Tsang // Molly McCully Brown "Poetry, Patience, and Prayer" from Places I've Taken My Body // B.N Pressman Stories of My Childhood // Karin Hadadan Little Moments of Joy That are Actually Big Things // Aftersun (2022) dir. Charlotte Wells // unknown // Patrick Ness More Than This // unknown // Honey Boy (2019) dir. Alma Har'el

[incandescent-creativity]

I don’t post writing tips myself very much anymore, but a very easy manuscript polishing tip is to do a search for the -ness suffix, and then replace the word with a more appropriate noun.

Quickness? Switch it to “speed.”

Tenseness? Try “tension.”

Easiness? I think you mean “ease.”

Even words like sadness can sometimes be traded for something more precise. Like what kind of sadness? Would disappointment be better? Melancholy? Even just “emotion,” and then add in another detail that helps the reader understand they’re sad?

[capricores]

if you have strong mutable (gemini, sagittarius, pisces, virgo) placements then you NEED to write things down if you don't already. all those thoughts that constantly swirl in your head: the frequent tasks, goals, feelings, aspirations, opinions, etc - WRITE THEM DOWN. this is not only therapeutic & stress-relieving for you but almost necessary, or you're going to burn out and overload your own mind constantly.

when you bottle, or when you let plans, goals, dreams, to-do lists, projects, etc live solely in your head - you'll notice you can't sleep as well, it's harder to rest, your memory gets more foggy than usual, you feel burnt out and unable to connect, etc. specifically:

write down your feelings. this will be your ultimate (free) therapy. start to journal, write a diary. make a private twitter/tumblr where you spill your feelings, frustrations, thoughts. you will feel an immense sense of relief by writing or typing your feelings out - even if no one is reading it but you. mutable moons especially. our feelings tend to change rapidly, but it doesn't make them less valid. don't bottle out of the fear your feelings will change/you'll just "get over it"!! write it down and let it out!!

write! to-do! lists!!!!! these don't have to be for important things. you want to learn digital art? you want to study coding? you want to learn french? you want to re-decorate? you probably have a billion things you want to do, and then you get overwhelmed by the options, and do nothing. write down all the things you want to do. make a to-do list for these things. get them out of your head and somewhere permanent/physical. looking at the options in front of you will feel much easier.

make excel project trackers (you can even make these for to-do list items/goals/etc)! mutable placements have a tendency to start a lot of projects or tasks, and never finish any of them. make a simple tracker for all the projects you start. you won't forget what you're working on, and you'll be less overwhelmed trying to remember what you have going on (example of the one i always use pictured below)

talking out your thoughts and feelings is also very cathartic. make fake (or real, i support u!) youtube vlogs where you spill your feelings and talk about your plans, your day, what you have to do, etc. talk to someone you love and trust, vent to them about how things are; or about what you're getting up to. i find writing has an edge, because you can go back to it for reference (mutables tend to forget things easily) - but as long as you're getting the swirl of your mind somewhere outside of your head, you'll feel so, so much less stressed.

mutable dominants tend to constantly live in go-mode, we're restless and always doing something. we feel uncomfortable and sometimes guilty about staying still. our minds don't ever shut off. it's very important for mutable placements to learn how to rest, be present in the moment, and learn grounding. this can be done in many ways, but i've found personally that writing works best for me. other helpful practices can be: talk therapy, acceptance theory, yoga, meditation, hiking, camping, etc.

i also want to remind mutable signs: we change a lot. we have a lot of ideas. there's so much we want to do. we often feel like we have no path, no big goal; we can struggle with purpose as we don't often aspire for permanent things or "one big goal". this is NOT bad. there is nothing wrong with changing your feelings, your mind, your goals, your life path. you CAN do all the things you want to do! you have your entire life ahead of you! yes, you can learn all those languages. yes, you can have three different careers in your life. yes yes yes! don't listen to negativity from others. don't beat yourself up for not having one big goal like some people around you might. cherish and embrace all the things you want to achieve and complete (both big and small). learn to follow-through with and finish the things that matter to you (writing things down will really help with this, make action plans/steps - break everything down into smaller pieces). take the time to slow down and enjoy the moments as they come. you got this!

[thoughtkick]

What’s the point of lying about anything? We could keep being too afraid to say we don’t know stuff and then the future will come and eat us anyway and we’ll regret not doing all that stuff we wished we did.

Patrick Ness, The Rest of Us Just Live Here

[maochira]

Hi! Could you do bllk big brothers watching their little sibling get married/walking them down the isle? If not, that's okay!

Sure I can do that!

gn!younger sibling!reader, big brother!characters

He's crying. A lot. You've never seen him cry this much. He's a literal waterfall. With every step you take he becomes more of a mess.

Tokimitsu, NANASE, Kuon, Lorenzo, Ness

He barely keeps himself together, but you can see him holding back tears. As soon as the ceremony is over and he gets to talk to you on his own he bursts out in tears because he just can't believe how much you've grown up.

BAROU!!!, ISAGI, Reo, Kunigami

He doesn't show how emotional he is, but on the inside he remembers all the times you ran to him with a broken heart. He's glad you finally found someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Chigiri, Nagi, RAICHI, also Barou

His grip on your hand as he walks you down the isle is insanely tight. Sure, your brother is strong. But he's never held your hand this tight. It's almost as if he's afraid to let you go because he doesn't want you to take the next stage into your adult life. In his eyes, you're stillthe little kid that needs to be protected by him.

Barou again, KUNIGAMI!!!, Raichi, JUNICHI AND KEISUKE, Kaiser

Remember to reblog with tags if you enjoyed this! It's the best and easiest way to support me and my writing!

[aleixis]

how do we feel about harem boy!ness x empress!reader !!!

okay so !!! imagine reader who's the ruler of an empire the size of an entire continent and half, she and her ruthless soldiers charging into battle after battle ! ness was a gift given from the emperor of münchen, michael kaiser ( ruler a recently conquered empire ), as a symbol of respect to your empire. ( u even make THE kaiser shiver in his boots omg just who are u !! )

you never really cared for partners, both romantically or in bed, but the gift was accepted as a courtesy. you were hesitant to accept at first, but your political advisor, ( isagi ) recommended you to accept. ness seemed compliant, almost eager to be gifted (honestly, he was just ecstatic that kaiser viewed him valuable enough to be a gift) ! he was so sweet and kind to you ever since your first meeting, even if you paid little to no attention towards him ! that just pushes him to yearn for your validation even more <3

soon enough, ness realizes that he's not the only one desperate for your affection. your harem of 4 other men ( i have no idea who to pick so just imagine its ur other favs ) haven't SLEPT in the same bed as you in a couple months, and they're all yearning for u :( ness has to join the 4 to win your heart over, but how ?!

the others have tried pretty much every trick in the book; seducing you ( which never works, you're always too busy drowning in work ), trying to make you jealous ( you don't care enough to be jealous ), winning you over with gifts ( nothing they gift you can compare to the entire world you have in your hands ), everything ! every move they'll make will spare nothing more than a glance and an occasional laugh from you, never anything more.

so, ness is desperate to change that ! he'll do anything in his power to catch your fancy <33

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

your boyfriend, jason todd’s instagram

.

.

.

send an ask if you want some other characters too ;)

[saeclipse]

nurse ᥫ᭡ a.ness

alexis ness gets injured from soccer. kaiser taking him home, he spends the day under your care

𝐆𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 fill the room, the soccer player has yet to get comfortable on his couch. His right leg propped up after suffering a terrible injury. Kaiser just stands there, staring at his misery, bouncing his leg up and down impatiently.

“When are they gonna come?” The blue haired man asked, “Waiting all day isn’t exactly my specialty, Alexis.”

The shorter man quickly comes to your defense. Forgetting his injury, he abruptly gets up, but he then almost screams in pain with the stress on his knee. Keys then fiddle with the door outside, prompting Kaiser to dash to the location. You sprint pass the tall man to get to (your favorite) German. Kneeling in front of the couch, you examine his knee with concern.

“Are you okay? I heard a noise from outside.” You question your lover.

He grunts for a moment but responds with that sweet voice of his, “Of course, meine hübsche.” (my pretty)

You give a small chuckle as you stare at his leg more intently, using your experience as a nurse to tend to your boyfriend. You ask the normal questions; did you take your medicine, how’s the pain 1-10, etc. After caring for your partner, you notice a tall figure still standing in front of the door.

“This is disgusting, I’m leaving.” Is all Kaiser said before he makes his departure. You have no idea how your angel of a boyfriend ever even liked that demon. Not trying to toot your own horn here but… you like to say you take much better care of him than Kaiser ever will.

“You okay, beautiful?” Ness asked, it only melts your heart more. This guy could literally beat up a person and you would just stare with big red hearts as eyes, it was so cartoonish your love for him. What was even more silly was his love for you. He would turn the world upside down, left and right, and end it if you gave him the word. It truly came out of a fairytale – his everlasting love for you. Some called it like a dog and master, but it was much more. If it truly was dog and master, you would be the unconditional loving dog who worshiped Ness, you would do just as crazy a thing for him just as he would for you. It was a mutual insane obsession, some might call it unhealthy, you guys called it love.

You only smile at him and give a chaste kiss to his cute forehead, making sure to get straight in the middle. You travel over to your kitchen – one that you rarely used when Ness is over as he always suggested going on a date to a fancy restaurant, but now here you are making your best to imitate the cuisine from his favorite German restaurant. If Ness was gonna spend the next couple weeks on your couch, isolated from the world, he was gonna get the best food he got since his birth.

You sang delightfully in tune with the song, Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana del Rey played on the speaker. Cooking some meat, Ness layed there, staring at the most ethereal person attempt to cook him a five star meal (you would fail but he wouldn’t tell you). God he wish he could capture this moment on his camera so he could keep a physical copy, but he supposes a phone will do.

After eating a sweet treat for dessert (which ended up being ice cream because somehow you fucked up the original dessert). You hold Ness on your shoulder, traveling to your room so you have easier access to him in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly being extremely heavy, it takes a while before you settle your boyfriend on the bed.

“Wait here, I have to get the kit.” You state before heading to the restroom. It only takes a few seconds but you come back with gauze and other materials to rebandage the injury. No words are said as you focus on his knee, with the silence saying everything that's needed. Ness once again oogles at your focused state, making him question if he should visit you at work more often. Phantom hearts fill his eyes, thoughts of you caring for him, this time with a ring on your finger flood his mind. He wonders if he should start getting injured more – but then you would have to worry more and he doesn’t want that. However, seeing you here, with the soft orange light from the lamp capturing your features beautifully. He feels like home here, maybe he will move in with you next month. After all, no house is a home without your presence to warm it.

Putting the kit back, you come back to bed with pajamas. You guys set your TV on a show, and although you don’t particularly find it entertaining, hearing Ness laugh next to you is a more than good enough reason to keep it running.

And when the lights go off, when it’s just you two in the dark in your bed – that's when most of the memories happen, the talks, the jokes, the moments of adoration of the other, where one could stare at the other’s resting figure and recollect the day. Where you two laugh at Ness’s new lockscreen of you cooking peacefully in the kitchen.

@lakeside-paradise @tofumiarchives @rini-rushed @shrii-kk

[mikakuna]

i would genuinely love a red hood show like the harley quinn show. a feel-good, comedy series that follows jason coming back from the dead and becoming red hood, getting his crew, becoming a crime lord, interacting with the bats and the rogues- it would be so fun, i'm convinced

jason's dark humour, stupid moments between him and bruce (less angsty and more bruce being an awkward dad), cute dad-son moments between him and harvey where harvey brags about jason and jason being so over it, the other rogues being so irritated by jason because he keeps foiling their plans, harley and him bonding over how shitty joker was (he's dead), and overall jason just being super fun to watch.

because let's be honest, jason is literally the kind of anti-hero character who would be so engaging to watch as a main character in a dark comedy.

[hellsslibrary]

Head empty just bros Itoshi, Isagi, Bachi, Chigi, Michael, Alexis, Nagi and whoever u want with SMAU and text "ass or tits" I've NEVER seen this with a male reader and like... Muscular reader (maybe jock like them idc) just wanna see it in that scenario please

#a.n. : Lol, literally all the requests for SMAU are in my inbox with the note "I want a male reader", I'll feed you, okay. And... I have a rather dry manner of communication in messages, but I tried very hard to change it somehow with some boys and my husband said that it looks good (and I hope it is). If you want a part with someone else, you can ask about it!!

Characters: Sae, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Michael, Ness, Reo, Nagi, Isagi.

MASTERLIST is here.

!!Warnings: suggestive but nothing explicit, top reader(although it is not stated anywhere, it is implied), I was in my subtop phase so some of the characters are a bit dominant (Rin, Sae, Chigiri, Michael) but you can chalk it up to being bold on the phone, discussion of sex or sexting, but nothing happens, the reader is some kind of professional athlete (I didn't specify in which sport), use of 'whore' in Rin's part(in relation to you, and from Rin and from you yourself jokingly), Alexis is THE simp (not surprising).

[readingbookelf]

The Defense Rests - Spike

Summary: The Scooby-gang holds an emergency meeting when they find out you're dating Spike.

Pairing: fem!reader x Spike

My Writing | Taglist

You’re at Giles’ home, currently being yelled at by Xander, who apparently saw you kissing Spike last night. Instead of just talking to you about it, in private, he called an emergency meeting. Hence the yelling while everyone else just stares at you.

“Spike is a psychotic killer and you’re handing yourself to him on a silver platter. Have you forgotten how he came into our lives? What he was going to do to Buffy for his precious Dru? Who is also nuts in the head, I might add,” Xander practically yells in your face.

“I did not forget, but I’ve used my eyes these past few months. Spike has helped us out more times than one, even when he didn’t need too. Also he hasn’t attacked anyone in months…” you trail off at the end knowing the only reason he hasn’t attacked anyone is because of the chip the Initiative has planted in his head.

Xander scoffs, ready for round two, but Buffy jumps in.

“Xander, you have to admit he’s helped us out… a lot in the past few months. Figuring out who the initiative is, what they do, even fighting demons or helping out with the latest threat. I’m not pro-Spike and I still don’t trust him, but if he makes y/n happy then that’s enough for me. Also I’m the last one to condemn anyone for dating a vampire,” Buffy finishes with a wink towards you.

“Thank you, Buffy,” you whisper.

“So we’re going to ignore the fact he would kill us all if he didn’t have that chip in his head,” Xander asks.

“Xander, last week you admitted that Spike has grown on you. What about all the times you spoke about ‘everything we’ve been through together’ just to try and convince Spike to help out? Don’t you think you’re being hypocritical,” you ask softly.

Xander scoffs but doesn’t make another move to convince you Spike is the devil incarnate.

“And on that note I’m out of here. I’ve got a bed that’s calling my name,” you say before getting up.

“Don’t you mean a certain someone who’s waiting for you in your bed,” Willow quips, wiggling her eyes.

Everyone groans.

-----

When you walk through your front door, you find Spike on your couch watching a movie.

“Home already or you haven't left yet,” you ask the blond man.

“Home for the night,” he replies while smiling at you cheekily.

That smile never fails to make you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall onto the couch next to Spike while letting out the biggest sigh of your life.

“The scooby doo-meeting was that bad, huh,” he asks. “The end of the world again,” he chuckles.

You look at Spike and see the concern shining in his eyes. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close into his side. You let your head fall on his shoulder and nuzzle close.

“The end of the world for Xander,” you scoff.

“What do you mean,” Spike asks.

“You were right that someone was watching us last night. After seeing us together Xander followed us and saw us kiss. Hence the emergency meeting,” you explain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Spike exclaims while jumping up.

Immediately your hand circles around his wrist. You give a little pull to make him sit down again. He sighs and sits down next to you once more.

“Who does he think he is? He’s dating a vengeance demon for god’s sake,” Spike spits out.

You rub his shoulder trying to calm him down.

“There was a discussion. I defended you. Buffy jumped in. Everyone is more or less okay with it. I’m kind of done talking about this, Spike. Xander’s opinionated. I’ve seen the way he was with Buffy and Angel.”

You shake your head at the end. The uncomfortable memory resurfacing. He was so mean to Buffy. It’s hard dealing with the supernatural world as a human. You realise how fragile your life really is. It causes Xander to act out like this, and it’s not an excuse, but it gives him some leeway when he explodes.

“I still hate that you had to sit through that meeting all by yourself. I should’ve been there. I’m part of this relationship,” he says fiercely.

You take his hand and squeeze.

“You were. There was this little annoying voice that sounded a lot like you edging me on while I was defending you…and calling Xander names I won’t repeat,” you chuckle.

A twinkle lights in Spike’s eyes. He presses his lips firmly on yours. A moan slips past your lips by the sheer force of it all. Slowly you pull away.

“I like you. You like me. And everyone else can suck it,” Spike says before kissing you once more.