#Pre Rolls Pack

[innovativesourcing]

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[jardinlv]

Elevate your cannabis journey with the Star Killer Pre Rolls Pack from Jardin Las Vegas. Each pack contains 5 meticulously crafted 1.75g pre-rolled joints, offering unparalleled convenience and quality. Our Star Killer strain is selected for its exceptional potency and flavor, ensuring a premium experience with every puff. Lab-tested for purity, our pre-rolls are perfect for discerning enthusiasts.

[witchydykebitch]

I can't smoke weed rn and my vibrator broke if anyone wanted to know how my week is going

[sirpeppersto]

i have the urge to buy a pack of marlboro reds and smoke the entire thing but i JUST told my friends that if I'm ever smoking cigarettes its means im days away from killing myself. i dont even feel like killing myself i just want to smoke something

[xythlia]

ISSUE ONE WON ELECTION BITCHES & WE GET RECREATIONAL WEED FINALLY FINALLY SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENS IN THIS SHITHOLE STATE

[moonogre]

There needs to be weed dispensaries in the airport

[temptresstitania]

if it doesn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to people with long hair or freckles or wide hips or dark brown eyes that look almost black, then it shouldn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to fat people. If it's not inherently a fetish to say you like people with sculpted backs or toned arms or six packs or small breasts or a coke bottle figure, then why would it be fetishistic to like a soft face with a double chin, or a round stomach, or big legs rippling with cellulite or stretch marks on rolls. you can find a fat person attractive. you can love the way their cheeks press up to meet the corners of their eyes, or the way their arms look, or the way their love handles spill out of their clothes. you can just. like fat people. you can say you like fat people. do you ever think how strange it is? how someone may think you're some sort of "perverse" weirdo for just...liking a body? how strange it is to put these precursory disclaimers of "not to be weird, but", "I don't mean it in that way, but", "I'm not a chubby chaser, but", or "I know it's kind of problematic, but..." could you imagine if it was any other body?

"not to sound like a muscle gain fetishist, but I love women with athletic bodies. It might sound weird, but I love short kings. I don't mean it in a weird way, but I love girls with hip dips."

It would seem strange. unnecessary. one may even assume there is some sort of guilt or fear you're hiding because it's normal to have things you like. it's normal to find certain things cute, hot, sexy.

you can sexually desire fat people and enjoy that they are fat. you can do that.

also, if you genuinely have a fetish (or deep sexual attraction if u for whatever reason are uncomfortable with the word fetish) for something that is found on larger bodies (bellies, fupas, thighs, underarms with fat/breast tissue in them, sagging breasts, big arms with skin that wobbles, cankles), or for a bigger body in and of itself (because I know some of y'all still want to sever yourselves from this), there is nothing wrong with that. people have fetishes for hands and teeth and earlobes and kneecaps and butts and shoulders and calves. what makes their thing any more acceptable than yours? there is nothing wrong with being aroused by bigger bodies.

please do not add tags and reblog this with "except when such and such is involved". I am not bringing those situations up for a reason. do not attempt to pivot this post into a thinkpiece on the objectification and/or abuse of fat bodies, ESPECIALLY if you yourself are not fat.

this is coming from the perspective of a Black person. Namely, a Black Nigerian-American person. Where I come from, there is a cultural, pre-colonial practice of gaining weight (and yes, particularly getting fat) to accentuate beauty. my body was handed down to me lovingly by my ancestors. i love my fat.

and if you love it too, that's okay. ♡

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,��� you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[oaktreez123]

Oaktreez: Cannabis Pre Rolls Pack Oakland CA

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[pjackk]

Yep another miesrable "F my life" moment just hapened to me i basicaly walked 10 miles up the mountain to get to behind to the gas station to see my plug to buy me my with my favorite delta 8 pipe rocks and grab another 6er of tall boy steelies and i forgot i had my lit pre roll from brunch at the Country Grocerys buffet and i tripped on a congom on they away out and fell directly into a puddle of oil which normaly is fine when i fall and hurt myself ebcause nobody gives a fuck about me but the pants got stained wich is not unusual for me either but this time with motor guel or some shit but my pre roll was smoldering still and it set my ptants on fire so i dive in to the muddy ditch to put wet mut on my body to estinguish the fire and it and it shook the fuck up out of my steelos and the bursted all over me and it put out the fire but now i dont have any booze at all and my delta 7 "Fuck n chill" rocks burned tf up and i dont got nothgin left and my pants were all fucked up so i had to go home thru the woods wihtout them and it was so dark out and my peice of shit phone died even thouhg it was at 27% and i couldnt see shit and i was lost for along time so i decide to go to sleep in the woods to find my way back in day time + the animals sounds were high key scary as fuck so i cover myself in leafs and dirt and sticks and mud and other shit to hide from them and i woke up in the adfternoon still tired as fuck cuz i dont sleep good without some shit to put me asleep like my medicidne prescribed from Dr Maltlikker if U catch my drift lol or Dr thc Gummy lol if u get what im saying and these stupid little cunts with 22 rifles were plinking at me and tlaking about how they wanted to shoot my big ugly rusty head right in the head or to shoot a hole in my nippels so i got up and trioed to get them to stop i begged but htey just kept lauhging at me and shooting at me and it realy hurt my feelings so i pick one up and threw it into the sky then they all ran away screaming which is a classic "Dont fuck with honest joe,because he might try to hurt you or kill you if u piss him of moment" but the miracle of the story if that i went to walk 20 feet to findm y way out and i found my busted as shit old as fuck camry with a litle gas left ive been looking for it for a few days cuz i did a lil cruising when i was blackout and did lots of crazy shit i didnt remember at all but it was all on my story and 100 ppl were snaping and whatsapping me telling me to kill myself when i checked my huwawai thats how u know u had a crazy fcking night when u get that shit!!😂😂 but it had a litle gas left and it wasnt super busted so i was able do get back on I81 and soem stupid fcking crazy ass north carolina motha fuckas are driving insanly as fuck as usual and they keep almost hiting me while im just trying to read my fukcking phone to get rid of all these stupid messages and shit i still dont know how to use the app and its hard to type shit with my hands but eventualy i got back to my fuck buddys houe im crashing there even though he hates me now but i have nowehre left since ive been down on my luck and im realy not able to pay the bills no more with my online black jack/DarkRp trial moderator gigs and basicaly he owes me cuaz i got him 1 pack of menthols back when he was 19 and Sleepy Joe Brnadon banned them since "Freedom to do real shit" was aparently removed from the costitution when he was elected😂 but anywas now im sitting here bored as fuck with nothign at all do do cuz i got nothing to get fucked up wthi and i spent the rest of my meony on shit thats burned and blasted im realy worried i wont be able to sleep tongith since i cant get fucked up and thats when the demons starts to flow in my head i might do something realy bad to myself like pluck out my screws or some shit if u care abotu my which u probably dont my cashuapp is $pjack9 im desprate for another bottle to numb my p[ain away

Pic of my ride when i found it thankuly it still had gas😋

[sashiavi]

imagine big boy diluc… like VERY HUGE!!1!1!!1 his beautiful thick arms are bigger than ur head, his tummy, his thighs, his ass, HIS TITS FBWNBDKWNDKW idk i have always hc him as big and hairy, it really suits him (in my opinion) and jesus my heart hurts when i imagine fucking him sooo good 😭😔😔😔😭😭😭😔😔

♡ Genshin Impact Big Boys ♡ Ughh you're sooo right- big boy Diluc please rearrange my guts ! ! Diluc needs to be built like Gallagher from hsr !

I've had this idea of him just rOTTING in my notes for genuinely over a year now- was waiting for someone to say it 😩

Warnings : 18+ Smut | Size Difference | Detailed body descriptions (we're analysing this man today)

Hope you enjoy ♡♡

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

BigBoy!Diluc with his sleeves rolled up, dark hair on his arms on display from elbow to wrist. Forearms thick and veiny- so fucking strong, throwing you around with ease.

BigBoy!Diluc with his large hands, so warm and tough, bigger than your face. Imagining his palms caressing over your skin, sucking in the heat from his fingers. Archons his fingers, thick, long and calloused and yet still so pretty. Perfect for suckling and choking on them, sobbing when he finger fucks your pretty pussy.

BigBoy!Diluc who eats well, of course he does, with all that luxury and money. He's not as lean as he used to be, when he was the Cavalry Captain for the Knights of Favonious, but Gods was he still strong. Wielding that heavy claymore with ease, carrying stock boxes for the Tavern, effortlessly fucking you in the air, held up by just his hands.

BigBoy!Diluc with strong, broad shoulders, big back and biceps, filled out with thick muscle. Gods his chest- Pectorals filled out with fat and muscle, decorated in delicate freckles and moles and a decent patch of hair on his sternum - Pretty pink nipples sealing the deal.

BigBoy!Diluc with a little bit of a tummy, soft love handles barely peaking over his trousers, still packed with hard muscle, cushioned with a bit of fluff. Perfect for grabbing, pulling his hips towards your own.

BigBoy!Diluc with his hairy belly, leading down down into his pants, happy trail framing his tummy and torso perfectly.

BigBoy!Diluc with his thick thighs, perfect for you to sit on, snuggled in his lap like a lapdog. Perfect for you to straddle and ride, big, warm hands on your hips guiding you to hump on him like a puppy.

BigBoy!Diluc with his large, broad nose, always jabbing and nudging into your perfect pretty clit while he tongue fucks your pussy. His crimson eyes looking up at you from behind the arched bridge of his nose, drunk and bleary, teeth nearly accidentally biting into the soft flesh of your cunt.

BigBoy!Diluc and his fat cock. Thick and pudgy, angry, flushed pink tip oozing globs of pre down his shaft. Gods, his cock. Pulsing and flexing, pretty veins accenting his richly thick length. Heavy shaft bobbing with arousal, struggling to stand tall from its weight.

BigBoy!Diluc with his heavy breeder balls, perfectly accented by his thick thighs. Groomed but still hairy, perfectly pairing with his droopy, heavy cock.

BigBoy!Diluc who has stamina. Fucking up your pussy over and over, holding his warm hand on your tummy, over that thick belly bulge the pudgy head of his cock stabs into you.

BigBoy!Diluc who can easily take all those scratches, teethy kisses, the crescent moons of your nails digging into his back.

BigBoy!Diluc putting pants on in the morning, bare back covered in old scars and new nail scratches. He can barely shuck them on, hindered by the heavy swell of his cock and the thick of his ass.

BigBoy!Diluc who brushes your hair out of your face with his thick fingers, palm rested on your temple, oh so warm in the morning chill.

BigBoy!Diluc with his pretty smile, kissing a soft goodbye on your forehead with his plump lips.

BigBoy!Diluc who will be back later, wrapping you up in the comfiest hug, huge arms wrapped around your body, strength lifting you in a silly twirl, lips peppering hot kisses all on your face.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . pornstar!chris .ᐟ

pornstar!chris has become a well-known name in the porn industry in a short amount of time — he's hot and he's packing, he has everything going for him.

chris leans back against his chair in his room, his thighs spreading wide apart as he palms his cock through his boxers, his eyes locking onto the camera positioned in front of him — capturing the scene.

a grin plays across his lips, teeth gnawing into his plush bottom lip as he pulls his heavy cock free from the confinements, a sharp intake of breath leaving him as he finally makes contact with his skin.

he begins to touch himself with slow, deliberate strokes, bare chest rising and falling calmly as he swipes his thumb across his tip that glistens with pre cum, spreading it around his cock for lubricant with a soft grunt.

"fuuuck.. feels good." he says for the camera, shifting his gaze from the lens for a moment to stare down at his cock, watching as he pumps himself at a leisurely pace before looking up again.

chris lets out a low moan as his free hand drifts down to cup his balls, his head rolling back in pleasure as beads of sweat forms across his brows, his breathing growing heavier with each stroke and gentle caress — his chest now rising and falling with each ragged exhale as his muscles tense and quiver.

he works his cock faster, pre cum continuing to drool from the tip and glistening between the dim lighting, the lewd, wet noises causing his arousal to build as he thrusts his hips, fucking his hand.

"you watchin' me, baby?" chris speaks to the camera — to his followers — as he pumps faster, arching his back slightly as his eyes roll, a grin spreading across his lips. "look what you're doin' to me... shiiit. strokin' this big, fat cock just f'you, ma."

he grips himself harder, twisting his wrist to apply more pressure, letting out a deep moan that rumbles in his chest as he teases the sensitive underside, thrusting faster into his grip.

"imaginin' your pretty fuckin' mouth wrapped around me... you thinkin' about it too?"

he lets out a soft whimper, his eyelids flutter shut for a moment as his lips form a perfect 'o' shape, rolling his head back again, neck strained as his adams apple bobs with a thick swallow.

when he lifts his head back up, his hair falls messily in front of his dark eyes, staring into the camera lens once again as he fucks his fist with renewed vigour, those wet sounds becoming louder and louder.

"fuck, m'so close.." he drawls, licking his bottom lip. "gonna cum f'you, ma. you ready? s'all f'you..."

chris grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he squeezes his eyes shut, tumbling over the edge as his balls seizes up and body trembles, spurts of cum shooting from his cock and painting his stomach and chest in creamy white streaks, panting heavily between whiny moans as his thighs shake.

he continues to spasm through his orgasm, his cock pulsating as the last drops of cum dribbles from his tip and he slumps, catching his breath as a chuckle escapes past his lips, his gaze lingering on the camera, running his clean fingers through his tousled hair.

"hope you enjoyed the show, baby," chris murmurs as he stands from his chair, his spent cock laying heavily between his legs as he reaches for the camera, showing the mess he created up close before pressing a chaste kiss to the glass lens and shutting it off.

© STURNIOZ

[steveseddie]

hot stuff

@steddiemicrofic prompt: stuff, 483 words rated: t | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush, he blurts it out while helping eddie pack to move to his new trailer

***

Steve shoves another DnD handbook into one of the boxes scattered around Eddie’s room. “Dude, why do you have so much stuff?”

Across the room, Eddie snorts. “Excuse me for wanting my bedroom to have some personality, Mr. Plaid-Wallpaper.”

Steve rolls his eyes, putting away some sketchbooks next. His eyes catch something else on Eddie’s desk. “This doesn’t match your personality. You hate sports,” Steve bitches, one hand on his hip, the other holding the basketball.

“Oh, that’s not mine.” Eddie smirks. “I stole it from some jocks.”

“You stole- a basketball?”

The smirk turns into a grin. “Assholes thought it’d be funny to hit the freak, so when they did, I grabbed it and ran like hell.”

A startled laugh leaves Steve’s lips when he pictures Eddie fleeing with a basketball in his arms, flipping off the assholes that he stole it from.

Then he frowns.

“I wasn’t one of them, right?” He doesn’t remember it, but he tries not to think about that time too much.

Eddie’s eyes soften. “No, Stevie. You were never a dick to me, we never really crossed paths.”

“I wish we had,” Steve says. It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. Since meeting Eddie, he often wishes it happened sooner.

“You really think we would’ve been friends? The King and the Freak?”

“We’re friends now,” Steve shrugs.

“After a damn apocalypse! Besides, you’re different now. King Steve wouldn’t be caught dead with me. I was a loser.”

Steve sniggers. “Was?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie squawks, throwing some socks at Steve’s head- and missing.

Steve throws them back, hitting him on the forehead. “You’re supposed to be packing those!”

Eddie sticks his tongue out. “What I meant is- I looked like a loser.”

Steve thinks of the photo he packed earlier while helping pack Wayne’s things- the one of Eddie with a buzz cut, drowning in Wayne’s hand-me-downs, no tattoos or rings. So different from the guy in front of him.

“Now though, I look cool,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows.

“Nah, man. Now you look hot,” Steve blurts out.

He panics when Eddie’s jaw drops and he gapes at Steve, but he doesn’t look upset, just shocked- and a little hopeful.

The door opens then and Robin pops her head in, glaring at the empty boxes. “You dinguses aren’t done yet? We finished packing all of Wayne’s mugs and there’s dozens of them! I’m getting Nance!” She huffs and leaves.

Steve grimaces. “We should get to work before Nancy comes. But, um, wanna ditch the girls after and hang out?”

When Eddie shakes his head, Steve backtracks. “Unless you don’t want-”

Eddie shakes his head even harder at that. “Like fuck if I don’t.” He grins. “Get to work, big boy, then you can tell me how hot you find me and we can kiss about it.”

They finish packing everything in record time after that.

[bbokicidal]

A Simple Analysis. | OT8 [SKZ]

Warnings: I'm gonna be straight discussing these men and their pp sizes so if you don't want to read about that then just skip this post, no biggie.

Notes: I'm just theorizing what I think they're like 'n I included some good 'ol references. Please note - these references include pictures/videos of the boys AS WELL AS pictures that are NOT the boys but are references to what I picture in my head when I write smut for them. I also need to thank @skzms because I Lowkey could not find bulge pics/vids on my own and their post really helped me out w that.

Extra Warning: There are twitter links in this post, so you know what that means!! Watch at your own discretion losers, I don't want ppl in my inbox whining that I use refs that 'don't look like them' like obv jfc let me hop on bub quick to ask Chris for a dick pic smh.

Extra extra warning: I like slowly lost the ability to think the more I wrote this because all I was doing was looking at SKZ cock so I mean. forgive me.

Chris

HEA. VY.

Heavy Heavy Heavy !!!! I said what I said !!! And if you want to know why, you can simply look at this video!! If I'm being totally honest here, I don't think he's massive down below but I do think he's a little above average at least. Maybe -- mm... six and a half inches? Pretty sure it's pretty, pink, and always leaking pre because he gets hard so easily.

Also, pretty sure it's relatively thick. I mean, we've seen it a few times before in his pants/shorts, so... definitely enough to make you whimper when he's splitting you open. <3

I'm not even gonna like. explain why I think this bc I'm pretty sure we all know but it's veiny as fuck and you cannot argue w that.

And his favorite thing is when you mention during sex how full you feel just bc of how heavy he is. :]

In conclusion: Pretty pink fat cock that is more than enough to make you feel incredible each time you fuck. <3333

Minho

This man is... packing. p a c k i n g.

Packing like I'm pretty sure it's not like thick thick but it's thick enough and it's probably more on the purple side than the pink side, and it's so fucking long--

Not as heavy as Chan but definitely bigger. Bigger, longer, one pretty blue vein running up the side. Literally so perfect and just the right size for your hands to fit around. Also not too long to the point where it hurts to take it but definitely... big. Seven, at least. At. Least.

And his favorite thing is when you whine about how he's fucking you so good that you might die. Dunno why that comment specifically gets to him, but he makes sure to fuck you a little deeper after that.

In conclusion: pretty cock for a pretty man and so fucking yummy.

Changbin

Okay look people might disagree but I think Binnie's a lil on the smaller side !!

Now look. I'm not saying 'bah this bitch has a small cock' I'm just saying it's not a cervix-kisser like a few of the men on this list. It's just right!! It's the perfect size to be perfectly comfortable when fucking and he knows that 'n he's happy with it. (I'm thinking five, bc five is a comfy size.)

However.

He will ABSOLUTELY split you wide fucking open with how thick he is. This man has the chubbiest, pink, mouth-watering, pussy-dripping, eyes-rolling-back, tears running down your thighs, cock ever !!! He's gotta prep you for so fucking long and there is always soooo much foreplay to you two having sex because he's just so thick that if you don't prep lots it's gonna hurt a lil and Bin really really just wants to take care of you. :(((

And his favorite thing is seeing the way you struggle to take him in your mouth because of how thick he is. :]]]]]

In conclusion: best cock on this list. <3

Hyunjin

Hoh. My God.

Hyunjin,,,, ... Hyunjin's packing a fucking rod of a cock, I can't even lie to you. I'm like 90% sure it's at least eight inches and if it isn't then I'm dead. Y'all thought Minho was big? LAWD have mercy, Hyunjin's got a fucking PIPE on him. A third leg, if you will. Shit slaps his thigh when he walks if he don't wear briefs.

SO. PRETTY. I keep saying all their cocks are pretty BC THEY ARE I JUST KNOW IT but Hyunjin's cock is actually fucking gorgeous like it's the type where even if you're someone who's like "I don't like dick pics" and he sends you one?? you're like "omg y'know what I've had an epiphany"

Not like heavy or thick like the others but soooo long, soooo pretty, soooo mouth watering. The type of cock that has you actually drooling and getting fucked dumb every time he puts it in you.

And his favorite thing is when you do just that ^ and go all quiet n whimpery during sex because your brain is mushy.

In conclusion: Monster cock and no one can convince me otherwise !!

Jisung

Mm, okay. I think it's -- average?? But see I dunno why but I'm picturing a little on the thinner side. (AND NO THAT ISN'T MY SUB JI SUPREMACY MINDSET SPEAKING) but just bc it's a little thinner doesn't mean it's not heavy !!!

And even though it only might be like - five and a half, it's still so cute and so pretty and so fucking tasty!!!

Also like a firm believer that he jerks it at least twice a day, sorry not sorry.

And his favorite thing is when you blow him because you just take it so well and he loves seeing it all disappear down your throat <33 mm mm mmmm !!

In conclusion: Mmmm,,, cutest cock on the list <3

Felix

Y'all keep saying Felix has a little cock just bc you enjoy Twink Felix and look - I too enjoy Twink Felix but I also believe in frat boy Felix supremacy SO -

Big dick Felix in the building !!!

Pretty sure he's above average. Like, 6 or 6 and a half, maybe?? SO pretty, cut, pink, so so cute, so fucking yummy looking.

Easily like, the slickest cock on the list. And if you know what I mean, you know what I mean. if you don't that too bad ig.

The type of cock you wanna like. put in your mouth forever and just never stop giving him head fr.

And his favorite thing is when you jerk him because sometimes he just doesn't have the energy or care but he wants it. Plus your hands look so much better on it than his do. :ccc <333

In conclusion: Pretty, big, hefty cock that fills you up soooo good. Also constantly leaking cum n making a mess but you didn't hear that from me !!!!

Seungmin

Y'all,,, I'm not just saying this because I'm a Seungmin bias but,,,

This man has a fucking. rod. Not like Hyunjin-length rod but rod that's like at least seven inches and I refuse to believe otherwise because have you seen the,,,,

Fucking!!Monster!!Of!!A!!Cock!!!!

Thick! So thick! So heavy! Rivals Chris w how heavy he is !!

And his favorite thing is when you choke on it because raaahhh!!! (im not okay)

In conclusion: 2Min Monster Cock Squad

Jeongin

Holy God y'all.

Think I mentioned it once in a post where I was like, "P sure Jeongin has a big dick because as soon as he hit 21 he had this massive boom in confidence n I'm p sure it's bc his dick grew like 6 inches"

Sooooo,,, pretty sure he's also in the monster cock squad.

Like, at least seven inches, again. So big, so tasty. The type of cock that makes you pray to God it won't rip you apart because I just know he fucks hard, bro.

And his favorite thing is when you actually scream during sex because of how good he makes you feel. <3

In conclusion: Jeongin big dick supremacy, we all know he's packing a fucking log of summer sausage in his boxers.

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

[inkdrinkerworld]

Inn Love

cw: friends to lovers, cowboy!james, innkeeper!reader, pet names, fluff, scene setting really

wc: 2.6k

“Please Jamie? I just need a couple pounds of butter.” You bat your eyes at him, all sweet and innocent but James knows you.

“If I give you what I have left I won’t have any to sell in the market this weekend.” He’s trying to stand firm. He really really is.

For all your sweetness and innocence, you’re like a viper to James’ strength of will.

“I’ll pay you more than the market.” You’ll definitely try, but James can never charge you full price.

“I’m sorry, darling. Go to Malloy, he sells butter too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “No one sells butter that’s as good as yours, Jamie.” You’re trying as hard as you can, James seems unmoved. So you up the ante. “I’ll bring you one of the pound cakes on top of payment.”

James falters a bit then. You bake the best in the entire town. At your inn, The Secret Garden, that’s one of the best reviews after the impeccable mattresses. You also know James has the softest, sweetest spot for pound cake- especially the blood orange pound cake you make.

He groans and you squeal, your boots clicking on the cobble. James gestures for you to come into his house.

“You’re so fucking evil.” he mumbles, reaching into his second fridge and handing you three pounds of butter. You take a quick peek and find his fridge stocked with pre packaged butter wrapped pretty in parchment, cheese in there too. There’s even milk. James is the best damn dairy farmer this town has ever seen and it’s a wonder how he ever has enough butter.

“You are an angel, James Potter.” you wrap your arms around his neck, and James’ hands automatically wrap around your back.

He’s big and warm, smells like leather and blood oranges and for all his muscles James is surprisingly soft.

James can’t fight the smile on his lips when you let go of him. You really are sweet. “You’re lucky I made more butter today.”

You gasp, not at all surprised. “You playing hard ball with me, Jamie?”

He nods, setting his hat on the counter. “Maybe I wanted a pound cake for free.” he teases but James would never take anything from you without paying you no matter how much you try to get him to. He doesn’t really care that you’re friends, he’s paying you for everything.

“You’re losing angel status, Potter. I gotta go, gotta bake for breakfast tomorrow and for the market this weekend.”

“See ya’, darling.”

James spots you while you’re closing up your booth at the market and hands off the empty crates he was hauling to his friends, Sirius and Remus.

He jogs over to you, and places his hands on your shoulders. You startle and almost swing a punch at him but he catches your fist.

“Okay Rocky,” he chuckles when you put your hand to your chest, breathing heavily like you’d just run a mile.

“You scared me, James! How don’t you make noise when you walk?”

James rolls his eyes, taking your crates from you. You move to packing bags.

“I make lots of noise, you’re just in your head.” He says, you shrug with a smile.

“Did they buy all of your butter?” you ask as you start walking towards your truck, James close behind.

“And the milk and the cheese.” You roll your eyes at his cocky tone.

You know James better than most here. You went to school together, you used to ranch with him when you were younger and when his mom and dad still owned the ranch.

Then you’d both had to grow up, you going to business school and James having to take over the ranch after his mom and dad had gotten sick.

You’d come back for the funeral and been there when James couldn’t get out of bed to deal with the ranch and all the shit that came with that and stayed till he got better and could do it himself.

Then James helped you with the construction of The Secret Garden, your inn that became your baby.

All this to say is, you know James Potter and he’s not as cocky as he pretends to be.

Sure he’s any woman’s dream. With his inky curls always peeking out under his hat, his muscle tees that show off tan, muscled arms, his pretty brown eyes that remind you so much of browned butter and his fucking dimples.

But James is a sweetheart.

“I told you about that tone, Jamie. Makes you sound too sure of yourself.”

James only chuckles, placing the crates in your tray and the rest of your stuff.

“I’m sorry weren’t you telling me the other day that my butter’s the best?”

You wave him off, laughing as you open the back door.

“Do I give you your loaf now or at family dinner tonight?”

James smiles, this is the one routine you and James still have from when you were kids. You go over on Sunday night for family dinner and then you go to the inn and try to get to sleep before your three am alarm.

“I just spent all day in the hot sun and you’re gonna deprive me? You’re cruel, darling.”

You laugh, handing him the loaf and then reaching in your cooler for a bottle of water. “Here Jamie.”

James’ mouth is already stained pink with the icing from your cake. Crumbs clinging to his shirt and chin.

“James! Have some dignity.” your words are broken up with your laugh, James smiles when you hand him the open water bottle.

“Thanks, darling.” Half the loaf cake is gone, and James guzzles the water like he’s been dying of thirst the whole day.

You watch James drink, aware that you’ve been staring a little longer than necessary and James knows it too because he winks at you.

“What are we having for dinner, James?”

James smiles, “Beef, you wanted that last time when we had chicken.”

You smile, giddy as ever. If it’s one thing James can do is roast beef; it’s always tender and perfect.

“Do you need me to come over early and do the potatoes? With the rosemary and thyme?” James nods, breaking off another little bite of the cake.

“Meet me there in an hour? I know you gotta do dinner at the inn.”

You shake your head, “I got Mary doing dinner tonight, and I wanna check on Snowglobe.”

James’ hand falls over his heart, a look of mock offense on his face. “Do you not believe me when I tell you he’s okay?”

You roll your eyes, “Can’t I want to take my best boy for a little leg stretch?”

James grumbles, “Best boy? Snowglobe took two years to train when we were kids.”

You smile as you remember all the days you’d sleep in James’ room complaining about how Snowglobe hated you and would never warm up to you.

“And now he’s the best horse a girl could have.You’re just jealous Jamie.”

He says nothing, just takes his loaf cake and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll follow behind you. Try not to drive like you’re on a race track, yeah?” You nod, getting into your truck and letting James close the door for you.

You don’t listen to James’ words and speed towards his ranch, foot to the pedal even as you swing into the grocery for chocolate for dessert- lest you and James pass away without a sweet treat after dinner.

At his place, in the Big House, you and James work side by side prepping dinner. He seasons the beef, you season the potatoes and put them to roast and then start on a chocolate cake.

It’s not a fancy one, but it’s occasion enough for a chocolate cake.

“How long till everything is finished?” Sirius asks, hat on his chest as he walks in holding a six pack.

“About an hour.” You and James say at the same time. Remus rolls his eyes as he steps in behind his boyfriend.

“I got your fruit, you didn’t stop by.” He holds out three bowls of cut fruit and you smile.

“Thanks Rem, I swear everyone came for bread today! I sold out of it so fast I really contemplated going back to the inn and baking more.”

The boys hum, smiling when James opens a beer and slides it to you. You take it with a nod and a smile. Quickly, you uncover the bowl of watermelon, taking a few pieces and smiling at the sweetness.

“It’s cos it’s fucking amazing bread. Lasts the whole fucking week too.” A compliment from Sirius is always genuine- as long as you’d known him, about two years, you can count on one hand how many sweet words the man says.

Conversation lulls, James talks about his plans for the week, Sirius talks about how there’s too many people trying to build big condos in your town- he’s in real estate and Remus talks of how much simpler life had gotten since he’d started raising chickens again.

You shoot out of your seat, James watches you curiously. You pull the cake from the oven and turn to all three of them stern as can be, “Those potatoes have ten minutes. I’m going to see my horse, do not let them burn.”

You rush out of the Big House without another word, boots clicking against the wooden floors and then crunching on the gravel path as you make your way to the stables.

“Snowglobe, baby.” You call, passing each stall till you find your baby’s.

Snowglobe is an old boy, almost twenty four, but he’s always been perfect. He’s all white, a pretty shiny sort of white on his coat that makes him look like fresh fallen snow. Hence his name.

He raises his head as he sees you, tail flicking as you reach a hand into his stall.

“I missed you, old boy.” You kiss his nose, stepping into the stall and getting a brush. You’re sure the farm hands James hired keep him well groomed, but he likes a bit of pampering and he deserves it too.

You brush through his mane, talking to him and sneaking a couple apples to him.

There’s a knock on the stable doors and you startle, you hear James’ deep chuckle before you see him. “Dinner’s ready,”

You kiss Snowglobe on his nose again. “I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll go riding, baby.”

James rolls his eyes when Snowglobe puts his face on your shoulder, stopping you from moving.

You grin wide, “I promise, old boy. We’ll go riding all evening.”

Snowglobe seems pleased because he lifts his head and lets you go.

“He’s as clingy as you are,” James says as you walk out beside him.

“He’s not clingy! He’s the best and I don’t come see him nearly enough.”

James scoffs, “The four times a week you ride him up and down the ranch isn’t enough?” He bumps your hips with his.

You shrug your shoulders with a smile, “He likes the exercise and your boys still saddle him. He doesn’t like it.”

James is well aware, Snowglobe tosses saddles off him if he’s feeling particularly annoyed with the weight of them some days.

James pushes open the door to the Big House. You walk past him, taking your seat on the table and groaning.

“This is gonna be fucking great.” Sirius laughs at your swear, and loads up your plate- roast potatoes, roast beef and salad.

By the time you’re all finished dinner, you and James have had two slices of cake each and you’re both sprawled on his sofa.

Remus is laying on Sirius with his hat on his stomach and Sirius’ is pulled low on his face.

“I gotta get going,” you say, breaking the silence. Your words are groggy, sleep close in your reaches the longer you lay beside James.

James sits up, “What time is your alarm?”

“Three thirty.”

James tries pulling you down beside him, but you don’t budge. “I’ll drop you back in the morning.”

You huff, a little amused. “What time do you usually wake up, James?”

“Four. I gotta check the fences though, so three thirty ain’t bad.”

There’s no use arguing with him, and you don’t really want to. He stretches out on the sofa,

Sirius and Remus are out cold, James doesn’t even move them. He just throws a blanket over them.

“C’mon, the guest room is always ready for you.” James sounds just as tired as you feel, his eyes look a little glassy too.

“Thanks Jamie,” you push open the door and smell the lavender spray you use at night strong as if you’d just sprayed it.

“Course darling, your blanket’s there too. Come get me when your alarm goes off, yeah?” James kisses your forehead, you smile.

“Yeah Jamie. Go get some sleep.”

You climb under your blankets, grinning when you smell the linen detergent James uses. Sleep comes quick, your eyes heavier than they’ve been all day now that you’re laying down.

-

Someone is shaking your shoulder and you don’t like it.

“Stop,” you groan, pushing the hand off you and pulling your blanket over your head.

“Darling it’s nearly three thirty. Come get some coffee.”

You groan, twisting in protest under the covers. “No. I’ll be down at three thirty.”

James rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me use advanced waking up tactics.”

Your head pops out of the covers, hair a little messed up. “You are not tugging this cover off me James. I swear to god.”

James smiles, “You’re so pleasant in the morning. C’mon, we’ll have coffee and one of those breakfast sandwiches and I’ll drop you off.”

The grumble you let out makes James laugh some more.

“Give me five minutes.” James nods, leaving the room and letting you go about your morning routine.

You find James pulling two sandwiches from his oven, setting yours on a plate and biting into his immediately.

“Thanks Jamie, where’s my coffee?”

James tilts his head to the pot, your favourite cup sitting right beside it.

“Your creamer’s in the fridge.”

You frown, “Where did you get sugar free creme brûlée creamer in the middle of summer?”

James shrugs, “Not telling. But it’s there.” James takes a sip of his own coffee, black with just a touch of sugar. “It’s turkey in the sandwich too.”

You smile, fixing your cup and then shuffling towards James to kiss his cheek.

“You’re cute, thank you Jamie.”

His cheeks redden without meaning too. “Eat so we can go darling. You got scones to bake and what is it today? Eggs and bacon with toasted sourdough?”

You nod, biting into your sandwich. “Yeah and I gotta do cookies today, want me to bring any over?”

James frowns, “Today?” You nod, taking the last bite of your sandwich and finishing off your coffee.

“Taking Snowglobe out after I finish up dinner at the inn.”

James rolls his eyes playfully. Since the moment Snowglobe stopped fighting you, the pair of you had been inseparable. “Yeah, you can bring a couple. Make sure and eat lunch.”

“Left overs?” Your eyes are wide and hopeful as you look at James. He feels his chest constrict a little.

He opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl, “Got everything here for you.”

“Angel status has been restored Jamie,” James grins, dimples poking out. Truly, he’d never been worried, you’re never actually upset with him ever. Angel status is always applied, but he can’t deny the way it makes him feel when you tell him that it is.

“You’re so gracious!” James bows, making you giggle and slap his shoulder. “Ready?” He asks as he rights himself. James opens the fridge again, pulling out the bowls of fruit Remus had brought over and setting them on your lunch.

“Ready, Jamie.”